The Two-Minute Curse: Surviving My Twin's Hell

After my twin sister and I were accepted into the same elite university, our parents fully sponsored the freshman welcome banquet.

They told the university president, "This way, even at school, they can feel that parents will always be their unconditional support."

On the night of the banquet, my mother pressed a piece of paper into my hand.

"Elara, go to the podium. Read the address, and while you're at it, introduce your sister's upcoming toast. She needs the spotlight tonight."

Forcing down the tremors of an impending panic attack, I nodded submissively. "Thank you, Mother and Father, for arranging all of this. I'll read it right now."

Just as I was about to turn and read the address, a voice called out, stopping me.

"Elara, read the gratitude statement first. Remember, there's no such thing as a free dinner."

My father's voice cut through from the main table, ringing with an undeniable tone of command.

I froze at the podium.

Even though it was a perfectly heated banquet hall...

I felt a bone-chilling frost.

...

"Elara, read it aloud. This is your obligation." My father Arthur's voice echoed through the freshman banquet hall.

Hundreds of pairs of eyes locked onto me in unison. In those gazes, there was curiosity, scrutiny, and above all, the mocking amusement of people watching a good show.

I suffer from severe social anxiety and panic disorder.

In a room with more than ten people, my heart begins to pound uncontrollably, and a sharp ringing fills my ears. And right now, hundreds of people were staring at me.

"Read it. If you don't finish reading this gratitude statement, don't even think about having a single bite to eat tonight," my mother, Eleanor, warned me in a hushed tone from her seat beside Arthur.

She didn't even cast a glance my way, gently wiping Harper's fingers with a wet wipe on her other side.

Harper is my twin sister.

We share similar faces, but our fates are entirely different. She wore an haute couture gown, looking like a princess adored by the whole world.

I, on the other hand, wore an old dress she had discarded last year; the ill-fitting fabric squeezed me so tightly I could barely breathe.

"Sister, hurry up and read it, everyone is waiting for you. It's not easy for Mom and Dad to put us through college. Even if you're faking it, you should at least put on a show of gratitude." Harper blinked those innocent eyes, her voice sickeningly sweet.

My hands trembled like dead leaves shaking in the wind. The writing on the paper blurred and twisted before my eyes.

Of course, I knew what was written on it—it was something I had been forced to write yesterday under their coercion, filled with self-deprecating words.

"I, Elara Vane. As a burden with inherent character flaws who has brought endless trouble to this family, I hereby deeply thank my parents. Thank you for not giving up on me, and thank you for your unconditional love in tolerating my gloominess and incompetence. I promise that during my time at university, I will never bring shame to the family and will forever serve as a foil to my sister, Harper..."

Every single word was like a rusty knife, repeatedly slicing at my self-esteem.

"I... I..." I opened my mouth, but my throat could only produce broken, breathless gasps.

It felt as though all the oxygen had been drained from my lungs, the familiar suffocation crashing over me like a tsunami. My fingers spasmed, and cold sweat instantly soaked my back.

"Don't play dead. Elara, I'm counting to three." Arthur's eyes turned completely ice-cold.

"One."

I took a sharp, deep breath, only to choke and fall into a violent coughing fit.

My stomach spasmed—I hadn't eaten a single thing in the thirty hours since noon yesterday. They said starvation was the cure for my dramatics.

"Two."

A server nearby had already brought out the evening's main course—premium Beef Wellington, radiating the mouthwatering scent of butter and truffles.

The server placed it in front of Harper.

"Dad, sister might really not be feeling well, maybe we should just let it go?" Harper cut a small piece of beef and put it into her mouth, pleading in a patronizing, charitable tone as she chewed.

"I... I can't breathe well. Mom, can I just go to the restroom first?" I forced the words out of my throat, my voice trembling beyond recognition.

"You only get your dinner after you finish reading it," my mother added ruthlessly. She waved a waiter over, who stood aside holding a plate with a dry, shriveled slice of bread. "There's no such thing as a free lunch, Elara. Since you can't bring glory to the family like Harper, you should at least learn to bow your head and admit your faults."

I closed my eyes as tears hit the paper, smudging the ink.

Using every ounce of strength I had left, I spoke into the microphone. In a voice shaking so hard it was almost shattered, word by word, I read out that statement full of slut-shaming and character degradation.

The entire hall fell dead silent, before erupting into a wave of low, mocking laughter and hushed murmurs.

"So the eldest Vane daughter is actually a psycho..."

"I heard she's so jealous of her sister that it twisted her mind."

"I feel so bad for Mr. and Mrs. Vane, having to raise such a freak."

Those voices pierced my eardrums like needles. The moment I finished reading the very last word, all the strength was drained from my body, and I collapsed onto the floor.

That humiliating gratitude statement fluttered to the ground. I clutched my chest, dry heaving violently as tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.

"Enough! What an absolute disgrace!" Arthur stood up abruptly, snatching the bread from the waiter's hand and viciously dumping it into the nearby trash can. "Since you don't even know the most basic gratitude, you can keep starving! Until you learn how to be a proper human being!"

Eleanor moved her chair slightly away in disgust, as if I might infect her with some terrible virus. "Just ignore her. Let's listen to Harper's address; she is our true pride."

The banquet continued. I watched them in perfect harmony, happily enjoying their lavish dinner.

My stomach cramped and throbbed in waves of hunger and terror. I made no attempt to pick the bread out of the trash.

Not because I had any dignity left, but because I knew all too well—in this family, without their permission, I don't even deserve the instinct to survive.