Hey people! Once again, this is a story about if Edward had a sister. It's my first fanfic so please be nice and give me reviews! Anything helps!

All my life, I've lived in my brother's shadow. He was always the perfect one, the favorite one; I was always pushed aside. Don't get me wrong, I love Edward more than anything. I only wish that my parents had at least pretended to care; I don't think there was even one instant when they loved me.

In my mother's eyes, I was never good enough. My childhood was constantly filled with her scoldings--- "A lady never runs about the yard, especially with no shoes on!" "Haven't I told you not to bother me?" "Why can't you behave well, like Edward?"

My father, on the other hand, preferred to ignore me completely; he was either busy preparing Edward to be a soldier, or he was holed up in his study. He only had eyes for Edward, so I was always shooed away. All I ever wanted was his love, and he treated me like another history book on his shelf.

The only person who ever loved me was Edward, the last person you would expect. Believe it or not, he hated how our parents treated me like some child from the streets. He acted as my protector and my best friend. I could talk to him openly about anything and he would listen to me. If I was upset or sad, he would always be there to dry my tears.

But, of course, my mother would whisk him away to help her with something or other and scold me about my "bad behavior." Because of this, we would usually only talk at night when she wouldn't notice.

Though my father was set on Edward becoming a soldier and protecting our country, Mother insisted upon him taking music lessons. So, by the time he was eight, Edward was practicing on our little upright piano for hours on end. Despite his longing to join the army, he loved the piano as much as he loved me.

I used to sit by the door while he was practicing and listen to the little songs he would write. Like him, I was enthralled with music and longed to learn.

By the time I was nine, I had begged him enough to teach me how to play. I would often get frustrated, but Edward was endlessly patient for someone with only three years experience. He was never harsh when he told me that my playing didn't sound very good that week; he would always give me a compliment along with whatever needed work.

Eventually, when my playing was good enough, he would write little songs for me. Nothing too complicated (like now), but enough to make me feel loved.

Sometimes, after my lesson, Edward would invite me to come out and play ball with him and his friends. Even though I was two years younger than most of them, they treated me like they treated Edward: as a friend. That is, until my mother would come storming out into the yard.

"Margaret!" she would yell, making the boys more than aware that I was in fact a girl. "How many times must I tell you?! Ladies do not run about the yard!"

"But Mother," I would plead, "I'm not a lady! I'm only ten. I want to play ball with Edward!"

At any mention of his name, my mother would smile fondly at Edward. Then she would turn back to me, venom in her glare. "You will come inside this instant, young lady!" She would then proceed to pull me to the door while I stared sadly at my brother. "I honestly don't see why you can't just behave, like Edward."

That was the killer. That simple phrase told me that Edward was her favorite; that she would never, could never, love me. No matter how many times she told me, it still caused as much pain from the first stab to the turn of the knife.

Sooooooo, whadya think? Sorry bout the length but it looked longer on paper than it did on the computer. Please review! Is 4 reviews too much to ask before i update again?