The air in the coffin grew thin, making the sleeping pills kick in harder and leaving me groggy.

I weakly pushed against the lid, but the solid oak didn't give.

Mom looked worried. "Did you double-check with the guru? Are you sure this is safe?"

Dad dismissed her concerns with a wave. "I've covered everything. This guy's top-tier, almost impossible to book. It cost 200,000 dollars to get his advice. He guaranteed that if Sarah stays in there for a week, all of Emily's negative vibes will be cleansed. He'll guide Emily's spirit back to us on the seventh day. And Sarah? She won't just survive; she'll be better than ever."

Relieved, Mom clasped her hands as if praying. "Lord, please, my poor Emily must come back."

Dad reassured her with a pat on the back. "She will. Emily was too good-hearted. If it weren't for Sarah pushing her too far, she'd still be here. It's all Sarah's fault, that harbinger of doom."

Mom's frown deepened, her sigh heavy. "Sarah's always been self-centered. A week in that coffin might teach her a lesson."

I could hear their voices fade, leaving a numbness in my heart.

The crushing lack of air sparked a fierce survival instinct in me.

Desperately, I thrashed against the lid, blood smearing as I struck my head.

"She's still so strong even after those pills; I better get some nails to make sure it's shut tight."

Mom hurried over to hold down the lid. "Yes, quickly, before she breaks free. If she does, the guru's spell might fail, and we can't let that delay Emily's spirit."

Despite the thick wood between us, their cold words felt like knives stabbing into my heart.

My screams were heart-wrenching. "Mom, it hurts—I can't breathe. Please, save me..."

"Quit your drama, Sarah. Wasn't killing your sister enough? Now you want to disrupt her spirit too? We're asking for such a small thing, and you can't comply. How did I end up with such a cold-hearted daughter?"

Dad came back with nails, each hammer strike echoing like it was hitting my soul. "Sarah, you owe this to your sister. Just stay put, and in seven days, you'll have everything. No more Emily to compete with for our love."

My voice was barely a whisper amidst the despair.

Love? Did I ever really feel what it was like to be loved?

After securing the coffin with nails, they tapped it firmly, satisfied only when it felt solid.

My face was wet with tears mixed with blood.

Trapped in the pitch darkness, I couldn't tell if it was day or night. Time blurred as I lay there, my fingernails broken, scraping helplessly at the lid.

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.

Wasn't it Emily who had tormented me? She had turned the tables so skillfully, casting herself as the victim and me the villain.

I lowered my gaze, tears salty on my tongue, filling my mouth with bitterness.

They never believed me. In their eyes, it was always Emily.

Even when she plotted filthy rumors against me at school, rallied bullies against me, tried to sabotage my exams— I told my parents the truth, but Emily just had to shed a few tears, play the victim, and they turned on me.

They would lash out, scold me, beat me, and throw me out into the rain for the entire night.

They believed every word she said and dismissed mine as mere excuses.

I endured and kept pulling back, trying to fit into a family where I was perpetually the outsider.

Now, dead, I was finally free from the desperate hope for a shred of the affection that never came.

On the sixth day, a foul odor began to permeate the house.

I was perched atop the coffin lid, watching my parents arrange Emily's favorite items around it—a stack of video games, bundles of play money, and elegant dresses.

All of which were Emily's favorites.

Mom, tears welling up in her eyes, voiced her worries. "I wonder where my Emily has been drifting these days. Is she cold? Hungry? Are there other spirits bothering her? She's so sensitive, what if she gets hurt?"

Dad put his arm around her, his brow furrowed. "Tomorrow is Emily's seventh day since passing. When she comes back, we'll make sure she has everything she needs."

As Mom dabbed at her eyes, she turned to the coffin and sternly said, "Sarah, your sister will be back tomorrow. Keep quiet in there; we don't want you upsetting her, got it?"

I remained silent, and Dad, clearly annoyed, grumbled, "Sarah, don't push your luck. Seems like you haven't spent enough time reflecting. Fine, stay there a bit longer, how about another week?"

As Mom started to speak, the doorbell rang.

It was Mrs. Thompson from next door.

"Hey Hank, what's that stench? It's like something's rotting, and it's seeping into my house!"

Dad paused, his face turning sour. "There's no smell here, you must be mistaken."

With a forceful slam of the door, he muttered under his breath, "What's she on about? Saying our house stinks. I don't smell anything. Absolutely ridiculous."

Mom looked lost for a moment as she stared at the coffin; then, anger flashed across her face. "Sarah, I know you're just holding your breath in there to spite us. Well, keep it up. But tomorrow, when we open this coffin, we'll see if you can continue your charade."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

Mom, I don't have to pretend anymore.

Because I'm already dead.

And now, you won't have to deal with your troublesome, unwanted daughter ever again.

As the summer heat intensified, the smell grew unbearable. Neighbors held their noses as they passed; those who couldn't ignore it confronted my parents, only to be angrily turned away.

My parents seemed oblivious to the odor, happily anticipating Emily's spirit's return.

The seventh day arrived.

My parents were already stationed by the coffin early in the morning.

I was also curious about how this supposed guru would bring Emily's spirit back.

He was scheduled for midnight, but the doorbell rang in broad daylight.

They exchanged looks and hurried to the door.

Upon opening it, they were met with a shock.

There stood Emily, lip quivering, eyes filled with tears, the same Emily who had supposedly drowned.

She rushed into their arms like a puppy rushing back to its mom.

Then she started sobbing, "Mom, Dad, I'm so glad to see you again."

The moment she spoke, Mom's shock turned to joy and thrill that she finally had her precious daughter back.

"Emily, is that really you?"

Frantically, she checked Emily over. "You're alive?"