The story of a girl and her family. Only it's not what you think... One shot
“Fuck!” I cried out, tripping over my own feet. I knew no one would hear me. I stared at the streets full of people. They were so happy… I watched a couple stroll past me, holding hands and smiling. I saw an old woman clutching a bouquet of flowers climb into a taxi. Probably visiting the cemetery. I walked back to my house, letting myself in. My parents sat on the couch holding my baby brother. I nodded a greeting to them, but they didn’t respond. I walked to my room. Well, what was once my room. It was my brother’s. How could they? I’d only been dead a year! I felt tears burn in my eyes as I reached out to touch my surroundings. Why would they want their baby son to grow up in the same room that his dead older sister killed herself in?!
There wasn’t a single memory of me left in the house. They’d forgotten me. They never cared about me. They were only kids when I was born and they continued to act like kids. I couldn’t live with them. I got treated like shit everywhere I went. I suffered so much in my life but they wouldn’t even let themselves remember me?
Eighteen years later, I’m still stuck as fifteen year old me and I have a friend. My brother. He killed himself too… Apparently he was compared to me. Kieran and I crept back to the cemetery to sleep. To our surprise, our parents were standing by our gravestones, crying.
“Nice to see they’re a bit more mature” I giggled. I noticed a young girl standing beside my mother. I glanced down at the child. She looked just like me.
“Kiara, this is where your brother and sister live” my mother whispered, choking back tears as she knelt down and traced patterns with her fingers. Kiara did the same. My father just stood there, staring vacantly into the midnight air.
“They don’t care. When she gets sick of them and kills herself, they’ll replace her too” I muttered coldly. Kieran nodded in agreement. I would have given anything to prevent the inevitable, but how could I?
After all, I am dead.