Beyond the Grave: A Tale of Invisible Suffering and Lost Souls

I died. My body was turned into a wax figure by the murderer and given to my brother as a birthday gift.

That day, they celebrated joyously beside my corpse, even smearing cake on my face, laughing and singing the Happy Birthday song.

It was as if they remembered it was my birthday too, but how could they?

After all, they didn't even know I was dead, and even if they did, it wouldn't matter to them.

The day I died, it rained heavily, probably more than the day I went to ask for a loan from Kathy Ashton's family, because I felt my wandering soul was soaked through.

I hurried home, hesitating at the door, afraid that the water droplets on me would fall on the doormat and get it dirty, prompting my mom, Lisa Gilbert, to scold me again.

Oh right, I was a ghost. Water on me wouldn't drip onto the mat.

I no longer have to fear Lisa's scolding.

Happily, I stomped on the mat, and once satisfied, I entered the house.

The living room was warm with the heater on.

My brother, Matthew Gilbert, suddenly looked at me, tilted his head in confusion, then continued playing his game.

The aroma of apple pie and barbecued ribs wafted from the kitchen, accompanied by Lisa's voice.

"Anthony, call Raina. Why isn't she back yet?"

Lisa still cared about me.

"If she doesn't come back soon, she might as well never return. All I asked was for her to buy a gift for Matthew, and she acts like it's the end of the world. Raising a pet would be easier than raising her."

I worked part-time during summer breaks to earn twelve thousand dollars for tuition, and Lisa wanted me to spend ten thousand on a phone for my brother.

She also asked me to contribute two thousand for household expenses. If I did that, it would leave me with nothing, essentially forcing me to drop out.

"If it weren't for her, Matthew wouldn't be so slow..."

Lisa began her usual complaints about how I caused Matthew's condition, a story I could recite backward.

It was always about how I took more nutrients before birth and was born first, causing him to be born late and suffer from oxygen deprivation.

I was five pounds at birth, while he was just over three.

But back then, I was just a fetus. What did I know?

I sat on the sofa, looking up at the Superman-themed birthday backdrop, which read "Happy 20th Birthday, Matthew." with his photo printed on it.

My brother and I were born on the same day, and it rained that day, so I was named Raina Gilbert. Because he was born a minute later, he suffered from oxygen deprivation and almost didn't make it.

Our parents named him Matthew Gilbert, hoping he would be favored by heaven, healthy and safe in the future.

My dad, Anthony Gilbert, opened a large package and said, "We didn't raise her for nothing all these years. She still has to come back to take care of Matthew. Otherwise, what would happen to him after we're gone?"

Matthew was playing a classic mobile game in which the snake grew longer. He was doing well and the snake's body quickly filled the screen, making him the top player.

"Ah!"

Anthony's scream startled Lisa in the kitchen, and my brother, who was so shocked that his snake crashed into another, ending the game.

He stomped his feet, yelling, "I died, I died."

Anthony quickly comforted him, "Don't say such unlucky things. Even if your sister were dead, you wouldn't die."

Lisa came out, equally shocked, because Anthony had finished opening the large package.

It was a wax figure, an exact replica of me, astonishingly lifelike, as if crafted by a master sculptor.

I looked at the wax figure, smiling, but trembling with fear.

This wasn't a wax figure; it was my body!

Looking at my wax figure, I smiled yet couldn't hide the fear, with my right hand holding a phone.

I remembered. I remembered how I died.

I worked part-time as a house cleaner, and the murderer was my employer from yesterday.

He wore glasses, appeared gentle and refined, and seemed very kind. He said he had been looking forward to meeting me for a long time. He mentioned that tomorrow was my birthday and wanted to make me a birthday gift.

I curiously asked if we knew each other.

The murderer said he recognized me from a forum thread discussing the feeling of parental neglect.

My response was, "Probably if I died outside for a month, they wouldn't know or care."

Because of that offhand comment, I caught the murderer's attention.

Truly, being online alone could be helpless and terrifying.

The murderer seemed gentle, even when killing me. He didn't want me to feel pain, so he gave me sleeping pills, administered anesthesia, and then drained my blood.