My Mom Told Me to Die on My Sister’s Celebration Day Chapter 07

My Mom Told Me to Die on My Sister’s Celebration Day Chapter 07

Corbin sat beside my bed with both hands gripping his head. Despair swallowed him whole.

I died… to set you all free.

But you look even more broken than before.

I reached out to hold them, but my arms passed right through—nothing but air.

As if he sensed something, Corbin suddenly looked up. His eyes were bloodshot.

His voice cracked.

“Eira… you’re still here, aren’t you?”

But no one answered.

A long silence stretched out, and then the sobbing started again.

At Mom’s insistence, an ambulance still came.

But the paramedics took one look and shook their heads before leaving.

Soon, police cars pulled up outside.

The medical examiner confirmed it was suicide.

“Rigor mortis has already set in. She’s been dead for at least twelve hours.”

“You never came into the room the entire time?”

Mom broke down completely.

“I wanted to go in—I really did!”

“But I heard something fall inside, and I thought… I thought she was just throwing a tantrum! So I didn’t go in.”

“It’s my fault… it’s all my fault!”

The officer glanced at the alarm clock lying on the floor.

Then at the curtain still swaying in the breeze.

He let out a heavy sigh.

“The window blew the clock off the desk.”

“If you’d gone in last night… she might still be alive.”

He looked at the family sobbing nonstop.

There was nothing left to say. He turned and walked away.

Everything after that was a blur. The arrangements. The paperwork. The funeral.

While sorting through my belongings, they lifted my mattress.

Hidden beneath it was an old rusted tin box. It wasn’t locked.

Inside was a thick notebook. The pages had yellowed with age.

Dad opened the first page with trembling hands.

The entry was dated five years ago—the day Sienna tested into the city’s top middle school a grade ahead.

Today, Sienna ranked first in the entire school.

At dinner, Mom told me that because I was the older sister, I had to be better than her.

If I couldn’t even beat Sienna, I was the family’s shame.

But I’m really not smart.

I try so hard in class, but I just can’t get math or physics.

Maybe I’m just not meant for school.

Dad turned another page.

The handwriting became darker. Messier. Pressed so hard the pen nearly tore through the paper.

I didn’t make top three on this exam.

Dad ripped up my test in front of all our relatives.

He said I wasn’t as good as Sienna and didn’t deserve to be his daughter.

Mom told me to get out too.

I was so scared.

I really tried my best.

To stay awake while studying, I stabbed my thigh with a compass every night.

Pain was the only thing that kept me from falling asleep.

It was the only way I could keep solving practice problems.

Mom moved closer. She kept reading.

I can’t sleep anymore.

I stay awake all night staring out the window.

Sometimes I want to jump. But I can’t.

If I died now, Mom and Dad would think I was just a coward trying to escape school.

And Corbin… his grades are so good.

I have to work harder if I ever want to catch up to him.

Corbin’s tears splashed onto the page.

He had never known… I’d been carrying all of this alone.

I ranked first on today’s practice exam!

But something feels wrong.

I don’t have the energy to do anything anymore.

I went to the counseling office at school.

They told me I might be dealing with severe depression.

I finally worked up the courage to tell Mom.

She threw a dish towel in my face.

She said someone my age couldn’t possibly have depression.

She said I was weak. Overdramatic.

Just making excuses so I wouldn’t have to study.

The final page was dated three years ago. The night before my first SATs.

The paper was wrinkled from dried tears.

Some of the words had blurred. But they could still make them out.

My hands are shaking so badly I can’t even hold a pencil.

The physical symptoms keep getting worse.

They finally believe I’m sick.

But it’s too late.

I know I’m already broken. Completely.

Silence swallowed the living room.

The notebook slipped from Dad’s hands.

It hit the floor with a dull thud.

For three years, they believed they’d sacrificed everything for me.

They watched me every hour of every day. They spoke in whispers.

They thought that was love. They thought that was why I’d managed to survive this long.

It finally hit them.

It didn’t start yesterday.

Long, long before that, they’d been the ones pushing me, step by step, toward the edge.

“It was us…”

Dad covered his face, sobbing.

“We’re the ones who made her sick.”

“And we’re the ones who drove her to her death.”

He dropped to his knees beside my body, now covered with a white sheet.

He cried until he could barely breathe.

Corbin didn’t say a word. He just looked back into the tin box.

Something glinted inside—a flash of silver.

He reached in. There was an envelope.

And beside it… a brand-new stethoscope.

His name had been clumsily engraved on the metal—Corbin.