Prologue
IT’S VERY HUMAN TO BELIEVE you are the main character of your own story. And whether that story is a comedy or a tragedy…well, that depends on you.
My half sister had a particularly strong case of Main Character Syndrome. She was convinced that she was a tragic heroine and acted the part every chance she got to avoid scrutiny. She would burst into tears and cry, “Nobody cares about meeee!” which, when paired with her beautiful girlish looks, masterfully garnered sympathy from those around her.
“Ohh, my sweet big sister, what a bee-yoo-tiful barrette you have in your hair. I think it would suit me better. May I have it?”
“No, Jill. I only just bought it, and I like it very much.”
“Noooo, how cruel of you. Why must you always be so mean to meeee?”
This exchange happened yesterday, and she cried her eyes out before I could even finish saying no.
My stepmother heard her crying and said, “Jill, is something wrong? Oh, there you go again, making poor Jill cry! You wretched child.”
“Oh, please don’t scold Leia, Mother! It’s all my fault. I was selfish and asked Leia if she would show me her barrette.”
“What a sweet girl you are, Jill! Can’t say the same for Leia.”
It was a vicious, unending cycle. My eyes filled with frustration whenever I had to listen to my sister and stepmother blathering away.
With things being the way they were, my sister and I couldn’t help but grow distant. In fact, I was scared to have anything to do with Jill. In the past, I would push back every time she was selfish with me, but her superb acting talents meant that everyone ignored my side of the story… So I’d resigned myself to my fate.
All I needed was for somebody to understand. I was so sure that one day somebody would understand my plight, but I learned firsthand just how naive that fantasy was.
The melting of the snow signaled the end of winter. On this spring day, with winter’s chill still lingering in the air, Philip, the son and heir of Duke Gilbert, invited me to his house and said, “Leia, I think you know why I’m breaking off our engagement. I’m aghast that you’ve been abusing your poor little sister right under my nose.”
I was utterly dumbfounded—I had no idea what I had done wrong. All the unfounded accusations only made my head ache.
He seemed to be under the impression that I was abusing Jill. That much was easy to decipher from the look of utter disgust on his face.
“Jill was in tears when she came to me. She said that you brag every day about how you serve the kingdom as a saint. That you mock her and call her useless for failing to become a saint herself. She said that the daily abuse affected her so much that the mere sight of your face gives her heart palpitations!”
Philip proceeded to outline all the ways I had supposedly abused Jill. I was a saint—that part was true—and Jill had failed the saint exam, due to a lack of natural ability. But I never once mocked Jill for it. I could swear that before God.
I did remember that she asked me what my work as a saint entailed, and I remembered giving an answer. In Jill’s mind, my response was likely warped into boasting about my own achievements. Jill was a genius at twisting the truth and presenting it in such a way that it sounded believable. It was so bad that if I didn’t keep my wits about me, I would even start to believe that I was truly at fault.
That was why Philip had so readily believed the lie that I was abusive. I heaved several silent sighs of frustration. What a mess I’ve gotten myself into again.
“I have never abused Jill. And I’ll swear this before God if I—”
“There you go, flaunting your sainthood again! You seem awfully proud of your own abilities, but if you think your superior talents will let you get away with anything, you’re sorely mistaken! If you truly consider yourself a saint, why don’t you try acting like one?!”
Anything I said was shot down on the grounds that I was boasting about my sainthood. Despite all his accusations, I did not believe that my sainthood let me get away with anything, and I never once bragged about being a saint either. But Philip had received Jill’s story as gospel—he had already written me off as the enemy.
“All right, let me approach this from a different angle. Please listen to me. Won’t you believe Leia Westoria is a humble human being? It’s unfair to take Jill’s story at face value.”
“Now you accuse Jill of lying?! Tears streamed down her cheeks while she pleaded her case to me; her voice was so frail it could disappear on the wind! Aren’t you her sister?! How could you be so cruel to your own flesh and blood?! I simply cannot fathom it!! Ohh, ohh…!”
I’d wagered that at least some trust for me remained in Philip’s heart, but sadly, my plea was in vain. Philip wouldn’t even hear my side of the story. Instead, he sobbed and begged me to pity poor Jill.
Could it be that my little sister’s Main Character Syndrome is contagious?
Seeing the tears on Philip’s face made me believe that had to be true. Even in circumstances such as these, Philip couldn’t abandon the premise that Jill was the tragic heroine of this story. My voice didn’t even reach him. The sad truth was that, the more I tried to refute Jill’s story, the more certain Philip became that I was evil incarnate.
As for Philip, he was lured into this narrative by the romance of being the hero protecting Jill, the heroine. Seeing his besotted state made me realize any attempts to win his trust would be pointless.