Jill had always felt like she was living in the shadow of her older sister, which made her feel a deep sense of loneliness and resentment. When she looked at her own shadow, it was grey and dull, and it seemed to embody her feelings of being stuck in someone else's light.

No one noticed, no one cared.

Jill looked at the windowsill as her obsidian orbs trailed to the frames hanging on the wall from the hallway.
The umber tapestry remained furnished as if the image of her older sister was the light that stood out from the darkened background.

One of the frames held a photograph of Jill which was cut out to the corner or the frame.

Jill was just a shadow under Jackie's light.

No matter what she said or did, her family had eyes for their favored daughter. Jackie was the ray of sunshine while Jill was the smog that suffocated them with her presence.

She used to crave for their attention, for their affection, but somehow it wound up being one-sided. At one point, Jill started to resent her family and decided to fend for herself regardless of what others thought of her.

She had gone to pursue photography as an outlet for escapism, she had began taking photos of Jackie, her family, her yard, the neighborhood. She had started to collect photos to compile her own portfolio. Jill would use Jackie as an excuse to get her parents to cough up money for the things she needed; it was the least they could do, if they had no qualms spending thousands of dollars for Jackie's quinceañera then they should have no problem giving Jill $300 for a Nikon camera—and that cost is cheap compared to the other models.

During her teenage years, Jill had turned goth. She always had raven hair and dark irises, though her skin was a ghastly white, almost like paper.

The phantom of her own family, breathing in the same atmosphere yet invisible for them to see who she really was.

Jill had taken photos of herself in various goth clothes, at one point she went back to a more natural look to emulate somewhat of her sister's photos—a genuinely photogenic appeal. In a flash, all she managed to take was a somber photo.

She had given up.

The basis of photography was capturing the light in objects. The colors. The shades.

Jill looked back on her first portfolio.

There were many photos of her family, she flipped the pages, skimming through the photos and she hadn't realized that one of them had one of her shadow.

Oh wait, Jackie was the one took the photo when she wasn't looking. A grey shadow looming behind her.

She had argued with Jackie about messing up her project for photography class that day.

Jill propped her elbow on the desk and looked at the other photos with a similar motif, but all of the shadows of the objects and people were black, why was she the only one with a grey shadow?

Just like a pale shadow
That fades away during the night
Swallowed by the darkness
I'm hidden down below
My colors are exposed by the light
Your eyes are the compass
Guiding me when you glow

Only she noticed, only she cared.

Even in death, you still manage to be the sunshine while I'm still your shadow.