THE DEATH PROJECT || by @onlyadelinee

ch.1: thalia

It had been exactly a month since Estella's death. One month. Four weeks. Thirty-two days. My sister is dead. No one could believe it; I still can't believe she passed.

"Receive the Lord's blessing. The Lord bless you and watch over you. The Lord, make his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you." The priest continues, "The Lord look kindly on you and give you peace; in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

I lifted my gaze from the dull grey concrete floor. A thick layer of hazy mist covered the sky, making it darker than usual. The clouds seemed to weigh down on the world, making the place a lot more gloomy and ominous.

As the priest's voice faded into the somber silence of the cemetery, I felt a heavy weight settle in my chest. I would've never thought she'd leave us this early, but she did. I struggled to hold back tears that threatened to spill over.

The mourners began to disperse slowly, offering me sympathetic looks and murmured condolences as they passed. But their words felt hollow, unable to bridge the gaping chasm left by Estella's sudden departure.

Tears were streaming down everyone's face as I glanced around. I would say that I am too. Except I just couldn't shake the feeling that we're being lied to.

The police ruled the death as a suicide. The report issued stated that Estella stabbed herself with a knife through the back. I could still remember the look on my family's face when they received the news. My sister, dead. It was enough to cause a heart attack.

Estella's death was unexpected. There was no logical explanation for it. She seemed to have the perfect life—great friends, excellent grades, numerous awards.

But something doesn't add up, I know it. When the police went to me and my parents, I couldn't bring myself to tell them what Estella told me right before her death—those chilling last words that confirm my suspicions. She was not a victim of suicide but a victim of murder. And whoever did it is still out there, lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike again.

I could still vividly remember the sound of Estella's screams through the phone. The memory of Estella's piercing screams echoes in my ears, drowning out the sounds of mourning and the rustling of leaves.

It echoed in my mind, followed by the sound of her body hitting the ground and her last gasping breaths. It was a haunting symphony of terror that still rang in my ears.

It was etched into my mind like a haunting melody. Every night, as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep, her cries echoed through my head and tore at my heart.

'She left us. I can't believe she left us'

A voice suddenly snapped me back into reality. It was Kylie, one of Estella's closest friends. To say she was a social butterfly was an understatement, and had a knack for dragging my sister to every party in town. Kylie is the closest being to a sister to me after Estella. She even managed to look stylish at a funeral in a sheath dress, which fits her perfectly.

'She left us' I answered, 'Way too early'

I kept my head in the ground, unable to look Kylie in the eye.

The guilt weighed heavily on me. I could've saved Estella. I should've known something was wrong when Estella called me. Estella doesn't usually call me; she always preferred texting over calls. I should've realised sooner, before she dropped dead. I was the last person to contact Estella to hear her voice. Me. I could've saved Estella.

I couldn't tell the police; it felt like a secret. I couldn't bring myself to tell them. It felt like a dark secret that's not mine to tell.

'It's gonna be different without her,' Kylie said as she put her hand on my shoulders.

'Yeah, a lot,' I replied. 'She was the best.'

Estella was the best. To me, to her friends, to everyone. Her death is cruel and unfair. She shines bright, and the world without her seems much duller. The fact that everyone believed that she took her own life adds insult to the injury, making her death seem mere. Everything seems grey without her, a feeling of emptiness that lingers like a heavy fog.

We stood facing the grave silently. As if paying our respect could make up for the fact of her death.

Why didn't I save her?

Why didn't I figure out something's wrong?

She could still be alive if I was smart enough to figure it out.

Time felt as if it slipped through my fingers. Soon, the people around me begin to disperse, heading back to their homes and normal lives. I remain rooted to the ground in front of her grave, unable to move. I just stared at her grave, regret floods my mind as I can't seem to tear my eyes away from the engraved stone.

The shrill ding of my phone shattered the silence. A notification.

I unlocked my phone and it read.

unknown: pay her debt, or else.