On the second day of my death, my body grew even stiffer.
After waking up, my parents began tidying up the house.
That used to be my job.
After we turned seven, my mother said she wanted to teach us sisters life skills.
My sister would get by with her sweet talk and playful antics, while I, feeling sorry for my mother, happily helped with the chores.
Somehow, cleaning the house eventually became my responsibility.
I watched as my parents busied themselves around the house.
Once the ceremony of returning home was over, the lively atmosphere gave way to the silence that follows.
It was the first time I realized how big and quiet our home really was.
Out of boredom or frustration, my father cursed while cleaning the floor, looking towards my room.
"You little troublemaker, you have to make a scene on such a happy day."
Yes, I was really dead now.
If he knew I was dead now, would he regret it?
A faint bitterness rose in my heart.
"It's better that she didn't come. After all, that man is a thug. Who knows what he might do if he loses his temper."
My mother's voice pulled me back from my thoughts.
"Besides, they were both with Janet. What if they notice something? That would be disastrous."