I had no energy left to scream. My fingers traced the wood one last time, then fell limply.
I died on the third day, my eyes wide open, the dried streaks of tears mingling with blood, creating a ghastly visage.
That night, my parents returned.
Noticing the silence, Dad grunted, "So, she gave up on her antics, thought playing dead would soften us? Four more days and Emily's spirit will return. Just keep quiet."
Mom added with a scowl, "Sarah, you made an unforgivable mistake. Spending seven days in that coffin is the least we can do. Think about Emily; she's gone for good while you just lie there comfortably. You should be thankful for that."
My spirit hovered, a bitter smile on my lips.
They called this a privilege, dying in a coffin.
They visited more frequently and were relieved by my silence.
Mom's demeanor softened. "Good you've seen sense, saves us all some trouble. We spoiled Emily because we were compensating for you. You bullied her, destroyed her things, and sabotaged her exams. She despaired because of you. Don't blame anyone but your own spiteful heart, always too cruel, even to your own sister."
Their words left me speechless.