The Rebirth of the Dead Heiress

This was it.

I knew that we would finally reach this stage where dad would chase us all to our rooms. Fight. It was like a circle that always happened. They have this argument, tell us off to our rooms, and continue the argument in hushed voices...

So fishy.

I wanted to delay—Like every other day— but dad noticed, narrowing his eyes at me "What are you still doing here, Sara? Take Sikara with you, tuck her in, don't let me repeat myself, child."

I rolled my eyes "You didn't have to shout, I was going already." Standing up from my seat in the dining room, I walked to the couch where my little sister Sikara was sleeping peacefully ignoring all the noise that my parents and my aunt were making. She was in her little world. I wish I could be like her...without a care about how wicked this world was and the pact that aunt Grace keeps on mentioning.

"Sika baby," I tapped her, but she didn't move. As usual, she sleeps like a rock. I turned over to the other side of the couch and picked her up, carrying her gently in my arms. Even as a little girl, My sister Sikara was the most beautiful person I have ever set my eyes on.

Her soft brown hair fell above her shoulders, and her beautiful big green eyes she inherited from my dad...in fact, all her facial features were so soft, every feature accentuating her face. Sikara was very beautiful.

I carried her to her room beside mine and laid her gently on the bed, carefully draping her personally-chosen Disney princess duvet over her body. 'The weather was cold' I said to myself as I sat beside her. I dragged the duvet up her body again, as I gently patted her head, I didn't want her to catch a cold, that would mean another round of babysitting.

From inside Sikara's room, I could still hear my parents and aunty's voices, arguing over the pact that aunt believes is right while dad and mom think aunt was just crazy as usual.

Whatever they always argue about whenever they tell us off to our room wasn't a nice thing, because it always ended up with aunt leaving the house the very next morning.

The question was that if this argument always ended with aunt leaving the house the very next morning, why does aunt bother to start up the argument? I mean, I can understand that she wanted to make Sikara happy because, Sikara was always the one who requests for her famous story, aunt telling her and it leading to an argument, an argument that leaves the two siblings (Dad and Grace) strangers for days.

"Tell her the truth Chris, she deserves to know" I heard aunt say as I walked out of Sikara's room.

Minutes ago, I had woken up in a twisted position in my sister's room. I fell asleep while tucking her in. Moving closer to their conversation, I wonder what truth they were talking about. And who did they want to tell?

My parents were weird and mysterious.

"She doesn't deserve to know shit. When was that right incorporated into the Pineville constitution??" Mom asked

"Olivia, don't be stupid. The day she finds out, don't say I didn't warn the both of you." I heard my aunt say, followed by a yawn.

"It isn't the right time Grace, just drop it. And mind your words too, Olivia is my wife." Dad says.

"Fine...Fine" I could imagine aunt raising her hands in surrender.

And for the next minute, they started speaking in hushed voices. I tried listening but it was futile. I just gave up and went off to my room. How much weirder my family got, wasn't my cup of tea right now. I had school tomorrow, an assignment to submit, and things to do. I had a life outside this mysterious family and some pact.

I wish I could be so blunt like Samuel and speak to my parents without giving two fucks. But I couldn't. I didn't have Samuelson's blunt tone nor did I have Sikara's carefree attitude. I was just myself. And this wasn't the first time I cared about how my parents saw me. I just didn't like myself, I didn't want to be 'me' anymore, I wanted to be different.

Sighing, I walked towards the bathroom of my room, loosened my bun, and looked closely at my face in the mirror. No wrinkles or freckles either. It was just plain old me looking back at myself. I inherited my mom's gray eyes, but mine was much duller and ugly. No life. My skin was a little pale and my lips were always chapped. I was nothing special after all, that was why I get walked over and picked on for being the daughter of the mysterious Pier family. Being called a witch wasn't something that I wasn't used to...

I licked my lips and reached for the tap. I wasn't going to take my bath tonight. The cold was too much. After I finished washing my face, I dried it with my towel and headed for my bed. I had an essay to write on my ideal vacation destination. But I was too tired to even pick up my pen to write. Today was a hectic day. Any day Aunt Grace visits was always a hectic day.

Thank goodness, submissions weren't until next week. I already have an idea of what to write, I mean, my ideal vacation is all I've ever talked about in front of my brother Samuel, and he laughed me to death about it. But I just had a nagging feeling that this ideal dream vacation would change.

Taking a deep breath, I wondered what it would be like to have a dead heart. A heart that doesn't feel and cares, a heart that would be immortal to the harshness of this world, a heart that belonged to me alone.

Aunt Grace was right after all; "you learn to run from what you feel and that is why you have nightmares."

I felt myself slowly slipping into the world of unconsciousness.