The Curse of Ballet Shoes Made Me A luna

"Sister, hurry and try them on! These ballet slippers are a gift I've saved up for ages to buy you!"

Fiona's voice was high-pitched with excitement as she handed me the delicate pair of slippers, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. And in that moment, I knew. I had been reborn into this cruel world once again.

The urge to strike Fiona, to claw at her face with my hands, was overwhelming. But the time for vengeance wasn't yet ripe.

I forced a smile, taking the slippers and examining them with feigned admiration.

"Fiona, you've grown up so much. I can't believe you're buying gifts for your sister now. Meanwhile, here she is, the older sister, clueless about everything."

"I can't believe you still act so ungrateful... And now you let your little sister buy you things? Pathetic."

My mother's tone couldn't mask the contempt she felt for me.

She never wanted me, had never wanted me. She kept Fiona close, doting on her, while I was cast aside like some mistake.

I had never even met my father until I was eighteen

Fiona, with legs-short and stubby, nothing like mine-had always been her greatest source of shame.

She'd begged for help, sought out sorcery, gone to every healer, and still, nothing had changed.

I stepped closer to Fiona, lifting the slippers up and holding them to the light.

"You have good taste, sister. These ballet slippers are beautiful."

Fiona's eyes sparkled, but then her gaze fell to her legs, and I saw it-the flicker of deep-seated insecurity.

I was about to speak, to finish what I had started, when a sharp crack split the air-my father's hand, landing across my cheek with a force that sent my head snapping to the side.

"You heartless little beast!" he snarled, his voice laced with fury. "If it weren't for you, Fiona wouldn't have these damn problems! You drained all her energy when she was inside your mother's womb. If you hadn't taken everything from her, maybe she wouldn't have been cursed like this!"

"Apologize to your sister, NOW!" he roared.