I was 12, she was 8. My parents always favored her - the baby, the princess, the one who could do no wrong. I was the responsible one, the one who had to be mature, the one who was expected to sacrifice. I resented her so much. One day, we were at the top of the staircase arguing about something stupid - I think she took my stuff. I was angry. She was being bratty, saying she'd tell mom I was being mean to her. She turned to run down the stairs to tell on me. In that moment, I made a decision. I pushed her. Hard. She fell down the entire staircase. 14 steps. I watched her tumble. I heard the thuds. She landed at the bottom, not moving. I screamed for my parents like I was shocked. I said 'She slipped! She was running and she slipped!' Everyone believed me. My parents rushed her to hospital. She had a broken arm, fractured ribs, head injury. She was in hospital for 2 weeks. My parents were traumatized. I played the concerned big sister perfectly. 'Is she going to be okay?' 'I should have caught her.' 'I feel so guilty.' The guilt I claimed to feel? I didn't feel it then. I felt... relief. She got hurt, she couldn't be the perfect princess anymore, she needed help. For once, I wasn't invisible. That was 15 years ago. I'm 27 now, she's 23. She fully recovered physically but she has a scar on her forehead from that fall. Every time I see that scar, something twists inside me. NOW I feel guilty. Now that I'm an adult and understand what I did. I tried to kill my little sister out of jealousy. She could have DIED. She could have been paralyzed. I've spent 15 years watching my parents treat her with extra care because of 'the accident.' My mom still says 'Ever since that fall, I'm extra protective of her.' My dad installed railings on every staircase in every house we've lived in. My sister has a slight limp sometimes when it rains - the doctors say it's from how she landed. I did that. ME. Last year, my sister got married. In her wedding speech, she thanked me for 'always protecting her as kids.' I wanted to vomit. People clapped. My parents were crying. I smiled and cried too, but for different reasons. I cry because I know the truth. I cry because I'm a monster who hurt a child out of jealousy. I cry because my entire family loves me not knowing what I did. Sometimes I want to confess. But what would it do? Destroy my sister? Destroy my parents? Destroy our family? That fall changed the trajectory of her life. She was a dancer before that. After the injuries, she couldn't dance competitively anymore. I took that from her. I'm in therapy now (my therapist doesn't know this story). I'm trying to be a better person. I overcompensate with my sister - I'm overly helpful, overly supportive. Maybe I'm trying to make up for it. But nothing can undo what I did. I pushed my 8-year-old sister down the stairs and let everyone believe it was an accident for 15 years.