The Death Timer

When our whole family saw the death timer for my sister will end on her sixteenth birthday, she became the most important person in the family. She suddenly took priority in everything, from food to dresses, and even bedtime stories. I felt for her, but I was also jealous that she was given everything. However, a day before her sixteenth birthday, my parents locked me up in the storeroom in fear that I would make a mess of things. I kept hammering the door, crying, "Mom, let me out! I'm having a fever, and my head hurts!" Mom didn't believe me. "Just stop! Your sister will die in just a day, and you're playing sick to gain our sympathy?! Don't you understand anything?!" "No…" I tried my best to argue, only to hear my parents comforting my sister. Eventually, my consciousness blurred, and I heard nothing… Chapter 1 My body was suddenly weightless, and I could glimpse the warm light in the living room through the old door. My mother, Bea Chandler, was patting my sister's back. My father, Gio Fox, was hanging his head, his shoulders slumped. My sister, Stella Fox, was wearing the only new dress they bought—a pale blue gown sewn with tiny sparkling stars. They were sitting closely beside each other, but Stella's face remained deathly pale under the bright lights, her lips drained of all color. "Is Tina really alright?" she asked softly and nasally. "I heard her crying that her head hurts…" "Don't worry about her." Gio brushed it off nonchalantly. "Exactly," Bea agreed, carefully fondling Stella's cheek and tidying her bangs. "She isn't sick—she's always pretending so that we'll worry about her, even though you only have one day left… " She trailed off, choking with tears just then. "You just focus on celebrating your birthday. Don't let her ruin your mood." Stella pursed her lips in silence, but the furrow on her brow deepened. I knew that she always believed that she owed me, what with our parents putting her before me in everything as long as we could remember. I didn't even get a single cold egg, let alone new clothes and toys. Even so, Stella tried her best to sneak her snacks to me, to trim her new dresses so that they suit me, and to always defend me whenever our parents snapped at me. She would always apologize to me, saying that I was suffering because of her. But our parents always disagreed… just like now. Sighing just then, Bea gazed at Stella wistfully as she said, "Stop taking her side. That brat has been jealous for as long as we can remember, and she doesn't like it when we favor you. Or did you forget what happened on your fourteenth birthday?" Stella's fourteenth birthday was also the moment I came to understand the reality that Stella was going to die. Our parents bought a butter cake for once, with fourteen tiny candles on top. Bea was gingerly lighting the candles while Gio used the same old camera he'd used for years, taking pictures of whatever birthdays Stella had left. I was hiding behind the door, watching as the candle flames brightened her face. Then, she closed her eyes to make a wish, while our parents were fighting back tears. Then, I charged straight for the table. I didn't know what I was thinking—perhaps I was just jealous, or I just couldn't accept the reality that my kind sister would be gone forever. I knocked the cake off the table, sending it to the floor in a pile of buttery mess while the candles were snuffed out. "Don't celebrate Stella's birthday!" Chapter 2 I was screaming just like those spoiled brats who would freak out at public places, and I still remembered how my parents looked at me. I didn't try to escape when Gio's slaps landed repeatedly, while Bea kept sobbing without stopping him. It was Stella who stopped him, running over and shielding me with her thin, frail body. "Stop, Dad!" she cried, her voice cracking. "It's all my fault… It's all my fault…" Later that night, she sneaked into the room and gave me a piece of candy she was hiding. I saw the red gash on her wrist, which she got when she shielded me. "Sorry, Tina," she whispered just then, poking my swollen cheeks. "I'll be gone soon… And then no one will take anything from you. - In the living room, Bea lovingly touched Stella's cheek, her fingers brushing her bangs. "Don't worry about her, Stella," she said wearily. "That child has been jealous of you as soon as she learned to talk. You know that." I was stunned, but it was true. I was jealous of Stella for getting all the love and all the new dresses, and for the way our mom was always hovering around her every day. I was jealous that she would always be our parents' favorite as long as she was alive. I floated toward them, reaching for Bea's hand to tell her that I was really sick and that my head hurt. However, my fingers passed through her as if it was air. I was left hovering in mid-air, staring blankly at my pale fingers. Then, I turned toward the storeroom door, which was tightly shut with faint light spilling out from underneath. I floated over, passing through it, and found myself curled up among the junk. So, I was already dead, even before Stella's death timer reached zero. Memories then flooded my mind, with a scent of dusky nostalgia. Back when I was around five, I really hated Stella. If there was one piece of candy in the house, it would be hers. If there was one apple, it would be sliced in two, but the much bigger slice would go to Stella, while the other went to me. New clothes always went to Stella, while I wore hand-me-downs with patches and loosened needlework. Even bedtime stories belonged to Stella. Bea's voice was always so tender as she read stories like The Little Prince or Andersen's fairy tales, telling Stella and only Stella about the stars and the moon. I would hide outside the door to listen. "What story would you like to hear tonight, Stella?" Bea would ask. "The Little Mermaid," Stella would reply. And Bea would start right away, her voice a calm, soothing creak in the night. I sat outside, curled up and listened to those beautiful words, my heart squeezed tight. Why didn't I get bedtime stories too? When I was seven, a neighbor gave us chicken in the summer. Bea made soup with it, with the drumsticks boiled to a golden sheen. As we ate, Bea gingerly put both drumsticks on Stella's plate, saying, "Eat more, Stella. It's good for your health." Staring at the tiny portions on my own plate, I burst into tears as I cried, "Why does Stella get both? I want some chicken too." Gio slammed his fork violently on the table right then. Chapter 3 Springing to his feet, Gio bellowed, "Why can't you understand, Tina?! Don't you know that your sister is sick?! She's going to…" He couldn't finish that sentence, so I still didn't understand. All I knew was that Stella always looked pale and coughed sometimes, and then our parents would look at her miserably. But I just didn't get it! "Why?! Why does Stella get everything?" I wailed, leaping off my chair and pointing at Stella. "Why won't you just die?! Give me everything! Give it back!" Stella's tears were gushing instantly, falling all over her plate. Her mouth was open, but no words came out. Bea then sprang to her feet and slapped me across the face—for the first time and very viciously. Stella ran over to protect me, but Bea caught her and shrieked, "She has to understand! She has to remember! She doesn't get to say anything she likes!" I still didn't understand, until the next day when I overheard our parents talking in the kitchen. "Nine years…" Bea was sobbing. "I know," Gio replied, his voice raspy. "Just nine years… Nine…" At that moment, I finally realized that Stella was really going to die—the timer over her head that no one else could see was counting down to her death. I watched as Gio and Bea tearfully took Stella to her room. After that, Gio said very softly, "We should… let Tina out." Bea was silent for a long while. When she spoke again, she sounded so weary that it was like talking took everything out of her. "No, leave her be… At least let Stella celebrate her birthday happily. It'll be the last time." I watched as she wiped her eyes, speaking to persuade herself, "She will understand. When Stella's gone, we can make it up to her." Gio didn't say a word and headed to the kitchen. He then headed to the storeroom with a small loaf of bread, calling out, "Tina? Daddy brought you bread. You should eat something. Don't starve yourself." I floated in front of him and crouched to look at him. His eyes were red, and there were plenty of wrinkles around his eyelids, while some of his hair had turned gray. He had just turned forty, but he looked more like fifty. "I'm here, Daddy," I called out. "I'm dead… Just come in and check on me, okay?" I reached out to touch his cheek, but my fingers passed through him just like thin air. "Tina?" He called out again just then and eventually sighed as he slid the bread through the door. "Guess you don't feel like talking, huh? Alright, just stay here and don't make a fuss. Once Stella… leaves, I will make it up to you." Realizing that he wasn't opening the door, I watched as he left and said quietly, "It's alright, Daddy. You don't have to." Because no one could make things right now. The hallway was silent after he left, until Bea stepped out of Stella's room, gently closing the door. She stood in the hallway, spacing out. She then looked at the storeroom door, pursing her lips as if conflicted. In the end, she came over, crouching outside where Gio just did. "Tina… It isn't Mommy's fault, okay?" she said very softly. Chapter 4 Pausing, Bea absentmindedly picked out the wooden splinters from the door as she continued, "It's Stella's final day. Just let her leave us happy, okay?" I floated in front of her and found her wiping her moist eyes so quickly that it was like she was afraid to get caught. "After that, I'll cook your favorite grilled steak, okay? A whole plate, all yours…" She trailed off, her voice no more than a murmur. "I'll get you new dresses with bows—you've always wanted those right? And I'll take you to the amusement park, to ride the carousel and the other rides… You've always complained that your friends have been there but not you, right?" Her tears finally fell at that point, staining the old tiles of the hallway. "You can have anything you want, so just don't make a mess today, okay?" I reached out to wipe her tears but couldn't. As for Bea, she waited for a while, but hearing nothing but her silence, her misery faded and was replaced by rage. She stood up so quickly she wobbled a little but snapped through her tears, "You're such a brat! You can't even understand your own parents once! We raised you for nothing!" With that, she turned and hurried away. - Soon, it was evening, and the skies were dark. Bea stepped out of the kitchen with a small basket with a red cloth, confetti, and scissors, ready to prepare decorations to celebrate Stella's birthday. Still, she had just reached the living room when the doorbell rang. It was my paternal grandmother, Wanda Smith. She was carrying a bulging cloth sack, forcing a smile when she saw Bea. Surprised, Bea moved to the side to let her in while asking, "Mom? What brings you here?" "To see… Stella," Wanda replied, her voice cracking. She opened the sack, taking out apples and some cakes. "It's her birthday tomorrow… So I came." "She's sleeping in her room," Bea replied, taking everything off Wanda's hand. "Just sit here. I'll get her." "No, let her sleep," Wanda said, shaking her head as she sat on the couch. She then looked around and suddenly frowned. "Where's Tina? I don't see her anywhere?" Bea's face dropped, and she avoided Wanda's stare as she tried to look busy with her red cloth. "She's… in her room completing her homework." Wanda stared at her in silence, eventually pressing, "Homework? I'll go see her." "Mom!" Bea sprang to her feet. "She was… throwing a tantrum! I locked her up in the storeroom so she would reflect on herself." Wanda paused, and she turned as she snarled every word, "What did you say?! You locked Tina up?!" "But she's supposed to know… Tomorrow, Stella is going to…" As Bea trailed off, Wanda glowered and stood up, stumbling for a moment as she moved too quickly. Bea reached out to catch her, but she shoved her away. "Bea Chandler!" she roared so loudly her voice shook. "Tina is your daughter too!" Bea was ready to argue, but Wanda cut her short. "Oh, I get it—Stella is born with that stupid death timer, and you all feel for her! That's why you want to give her the best of everything so that she will die happy!" Chapter 5 As Wanda continued, her voice grew louder, "But what about Tina? Doesn't she have it tough too? What has she gotten from you ever since she was a child? Stella's old clothes! Stella's leftovers! Even the family affection she was supposed to have is given to Stella!" "We're not…" Bea tried to argue, but her voice was meek and lacked confidence. Wanda continued just then, her voice cracking terribly. "They are both good children! But you two? As her parents, don't you feel like you owe Tina? Or does she not deserve any love? And now, you won't even let the sisters see each other one last time! "Tomorrow, Stella will be… gone, and Tina is supposed to be the baby sister treasured ever since they were kids! How is Stella supposed to leave now? Filled with regrets?!" Bea could only stay in her chair, hiding her face in her palms as her shoulder shook, "I-I just…" she murmured, her voice shuddering even through her fingers. "I just wanted Stella to be happy before she left us… I don't want Tina to make a mess…" - As night arrived, Stella's room remained tightly shut. Seeing Bea still standing outside, Wanda told her hoarsely, "Go to bed. You have an early day tomorrow." Bea twitched as if wanting to argue, but she ultimately only shook her head. "I can't sleep," Gio said, not moving as well. Wanda sighed but stopped trying to persuade them. Moving to the storeroom, she crouched and spoke through the door seams, "I'm right here with you, Tina. It's going to be alright." My tears started to gush again. - Time passed, and the candles all faded, leaving the living room in darkness. Eventually, the skies brightened from pure darkness to a deep blue before turning ash white. As the first light spilled through the window on the old floorboards, illuminating the dust in the air, Wanda got up and walked up to Stella's room. She wanted to knock, but her hand hovered in the air in hesitation. Eventually, she only called out, "Time to wake up, Stella." Click. The door opened, and Stella was standing there, smiling faintly. "Grandma… Mom… Dad…" Bea rushed over right then, holding her so tightly they could fuse together, her voice cracking. "Stella…" Gio hurried over too, his hands shaking as he tousled Stella's hair. "I'm fine, Mom," Stella said quietly, patting Bea's back. "I'm really fine." Wanda stood in a corner watching silently for a long while. Then, she remembered me and turned toward the storeroom. "Tina!" she called out, her voice ringing clearly in the morning air. "Quick, let Tina out!" It was only then that Gio and Bea remembered that I was still in the storeroom, smiling through their tears. "Yes, that's right! We have to let Tina out—she's still in the storeroom! It's great news… Stella is alive!" With Bea pulling Stella along and Gio leading the way, they were all smiles as they reached the storeroom. However, Gio had just opened the door when his face dropped. He recoiled suddenly, murmuring, "No, no, no!"