You always strove to be perfect.

Your parents always told you, "You're not good enough. Just take a look at your brothers. Look at their intelligence, their stunning achievements." You would reluctantly shift your brown eyes to watch them work on another invention. Your brothers would scrutinize whatever they were working on, fix some parts, and go back to staring intently at it. Sometimes, you would see them finish an invention, and their eyes would gleam with accomplishment. You would turn back to your parents, who would look on with pride. "Now look at yourself." There would always be a long pause, and you would always understand the implication: you were nothing compared to your brothers.

Other times, when you'd show them something special—an award from school, a perfect report card—your parents would just scoff. "Thank goodness you're at least the slightest bit intelligent," your father would retort, and your mother would snort in agreement.

"Our little darling—at least she's trying to change her mediocre ways," she would say, and you would try to fight back the tears welling up in your eyes.

~Ω~

When the Clue Hunt began, you knew it was your chance to shine.

It was simple: get all the Clues, win the Clue Hunt, and receive an inkling of praise from your parents while you were at it. Get the Cahill serum, and your problem would be solved. No more insults, no more comparisons. Just an abundance of praise. It was the perfect plan.

But then the accident happened.

You weren't expecting it—in fact, you were flat-out denying it. When the Cahill siblings begged you to not turn the corner, not make that fatal mistake, you refused. The Man in Black—you thought that it was just an enormous fabrication so that they could get ahead in the Hunt. You thought they were lying to you, tricking you, trying to outsmart you. They were trying to stop you from winning; you knew it.

And you would have none of that.

So you went ahead, your brothers dutifully following along, and you looked left and right. There was no Man in Black in sight. Inwardly, you scoffed. Those Cahills were dumb to try and outfox you.

But then you went a bit further and set off the detonator and there was just pain and blankness and hurt from the accident, but there was more pain from how you knew how disappointed your parents were going to be when they realized that you had ruined everything.

~Ω~

When you were lying in pain in the hospital, visitors were scarce. Once, your childhood friend, Jonah came, who mixed sympathy with hip-hop slang. It was an awkward visit, but you kind of liked that you had at least one friend that didn't judge you. Your best friend Amber stopped by, too. Except her face had a look of disgust on it, and she asked, "Sinead, what happened to you?" And when you explained what exactly had happened, she wrinkled her nose, and awkwardly told you to get better, and maybe buy some new clothes.

The only other visitors were your parents.

"You. Are. A. Failure." Your mother enunciated every word to you, spitting them into your face. You set your jaw, and pressed your lips into a thin line, but the words still hurt, stabbed you like a thousand needles. "What is wrong with you?"

"You risked your brothers' lives and handicapped them for life. You should've known that the Cahill brats were telling the truth! Their weaknesses are trusting and caring! What do you have to say, young lady?" your father spat, and then turned to your mother. "Two-thirds of the triplets came out just fine, and this—this black sheep in the family ruined everything that we've worked for." You flinched. "Everything!"

Your mother shook her head. "Honey, this is not what we raised you to be. We raised you to be a star. A Starling. We raised you to be perfect." She sighed and slightly inclined her head. "Why don't you give a bit more effort, darling?" You knew that the names "honey" and "darling" were somehow supposed to make your mother's words sound loving, caring, but when she smiled, her grin didn't reach her eyes, and you knew that she was disappointed.

"I'm—I'm sorry," you muttered, your face turning red. You clenched the hospital blankets with your hands, turning your knuckles a stark white.

"'Sorry' isn't going to make up for your brother's blindness or your other brother's migraines," your father deadpanned, and shook his head. You hated when he did that, hated it so much, because it meant that you had failed.

Again.

Your mother clucked her tongue sympathetically. "Poor darling. You'll amount to something, someday," she sighed, and you felt the tears coming again. There was a lump in your throat that you tried to swallow, but it wouldn't go down. "I guess we'll be going now."

She eased up from the foot of the bed, and straightened her cashmere jacket. You waited for a kiss, a hug, anything. But your parents just left, not giving you another glance.

You were silent after their visit, just sitting on your bed. You tried to convince yourself that this happened all the time, and it was nothing to get worked up about. But the lump in your throat was growing larger, so large that you were choking, choking on the lump in your throat, choking so hard that your face was turning red, and then the choking turned into resentment. Why did your parents have to hate you so much, why did your brothers have to be so good at everything, why were you so imperfect, why were your parents so right? And you thrashed in your bed, tears streaming down your face, and then you began to sob loudly, and you cried for the longest time into the sickeningly sweet-smelling hospital pillow.

You were just Sinead Starling, and you weren't perfect. You would never be.

But that didn't mean that you would ever stop trying.

...I have no clue where this one-shot came from, but I'm pretty happy with what came out. I know it's not perfect, so, of course, flames are accepted, and constructive criticism is welcomed into open arms.

Congratulate Sun Daughter, aka Summer, who beta'd this oneshot. She is an amazing friend and author, and she needs to be showered with praise. Thanks so much, Summer! Also, thank you Another Artist aka Amy, who gave me the idea to revise the ending. :) Also, the tiny Jonah/Sinead implication was inspired by Joelle8, aka Jo. ^^ Finally, thanks a bunch to music4evah aka Muse and Syberian Quest aka Sy, who both helped edit a bit more. :)

~ Cascading Rainbows