The Death of Lian Core

Chapter 1

The rain poured heavily, as if it wanted this grave ceremony to be flooded. Tears from the sky fell equally on the humans gathered here for the death of Lian Core. One of the patients who didn’t receive much attention from the nurse and doctor, because they said she was just "pretending."
They had no doubt about it.

They said, "You're okay," then left her.

They said, "You can handle it," then crumpled her spirit like a discarded piece of paper.

I saw Martha Bismuth standing under the awning beside the Home of Girls principal, Marie, her eyes obscured by the heavy curtain of rain. The droplets splattered against her skin, mingling with the sweat of her frustration. Martha had always been a pillar of strength, a fortress against the chaos of the hospital.

But now, as I watched her, I could see the sadness in her eyes—an empty, pale soul. Just like everyone else, all of us sad for the loss of Lian. But I knew something else that my peers didn’t know. The truth, the monster, and the twisted death and words that lingered in the shadows.

 I could hear their whispers, the half-formed thoughts that danced around the air like smoke. "She was just attention-seeking," they said. "She brought this on herself." But what they didn’t know was that Lian had been reaching out, her cries for help muffled by the indifference that surrounded her.

And Martha—oh, Martha—had been the one to push her away.

I watched as Martha's fingers trembled slightly, her hands gripping the edge of the awning as if it were the only thing anchoring her to reality. The rain drummed a relentless rhythm, a sinister reminder of the storm brewing within her. I could see the flicker of guilt in her eyes, a shadow that twisted and writhed, refusing to let her go.

She was haunted, and the grave before her was not just a resting place for Lian, but a mirror reflecting her own failures.

But Martha, there was something else. A deep twisted one.

Suddenly, I noticed something shift in the corner of my vision—a figure lurking at the edge of the cemetery. I squinted through the downpour, and my heart raced as I recognized the silhouette. It was Lian. But how could that be? The girl had been buried, her body laid to rest beneath the earth. Yet there she stood, drenched and ethereal, her eyes hollow and searching.

"You didn’t care," Lian’s voice echoed, chilling and clear, directed solely at Martha. She stared straight into Martha's eyes, her gaze piercing through the veil of rain and sorrow. The air around us thickened with an unbearable tension, and I could feel the atmosphere crackle like electricity.

Martha flinched, her breath hitching in her throat as the reality of the moment crashed over her. The mourners around us seemed oblivious, lost in their own grief, but I could see the truth unraveling before my eyes. Lian’s spirit was not merely a figment of guilt; it was a manifestation of the darkness that had seeped into the very fabric of the hospital.

As Lian's hollow eyes bore into Martha's, the weight of unspoken words hung in the air. "You pushed me away when I needed you the most," Lian continued, her voice a haunting melody that echoed in the rain-soaked cemetery.

In that instant, Martha's face contorted in terror, her eyes wide with disbelief. A blood-curdling scream escaped her lips, piercing the heavy atmosphere like a knife. She staggered back, her hands clutching her head as if trying to block out the truth. The shock of Lian's ghost had shattered her composure, and I could see the flicker of panic igniting within her.

Then, without warning, Martha collapsed to the ground, her body convulsing violently. Epileptic seizures seized her, the twitching movements a stark contrast to the stillness of the cemetery. Panic erupted among the mourners as they rushed to her side, their faces a mix of fear and concern. They gathered around her, shouting for help, hands trembling as they tried to stabilize her.

But amidst the chaos, I felt a chill run down my spine. I turned my gaze back to Lian, and my heart sank. Her face was blunt, devoid of emotion, a stark contrast to Martha's frantic terror. She stood there, an unyielding specter, and my heart broke as I realized that my best friend's ghost was looking at me. All I wanted was to reach out, to hug her, to tell her how much I missed her.

But Lian remained distant, her expression hauntingly calm as if she had long since accepted her fate. I could feel the weight of grief pressing down on me, a suffocating reminder of the loss that had torn our lives apart. The rain continued to pour, mingling with my tears, blurring the line between the living and the dead.

But Lian remained distant, her expression hauntingly calm as if she had long since accepted her fate. I could feel the weight of grief pressing down on me, a suffocating reminder of the loss that had torn our lives apart. The rain continued to pour, mingling with my tears, blurring the line between the living and the dead.

"Li... Lian," I tried to speak, but my voice was drowned out by the chaos behind me. The frantic cries of the mourners, the shouts for help, all of it faded into a distant echo as I focused solely on Lian's ghostly figure. I wanted to scream, to beg her to come back, to tell her that I missed her, to help her understand that she was never alone. But all I could do was stand there, frozen in place, as the reality of our friendship began to unravel before my eyes.

As I reached out, desperate to bridge the gap between us, something shifted in the air. The rain intensified, each drop feeling like a reminder of the tears I had yet to shed. Lian’s form flickered, her features blurring as if she were caught between two worlds. I could see the pain in her eyes, a silent plea that twisted my heart.

Then, just as suddenly as she had appeared, she began to fade, her figure dissolving into the mist of the rain. "You have to remember," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the din. "You have to remember what they did to me."

The words struck me like a bolt of lightning, igniting a fire of realization within me. It wasn’t just neglect that had taken Lian from us; it was something darker, something buried beneath layers of denial and indifference. The hospital, the very place meant to heal, had become a cage, imprisoning the vulnerable and silencing their cries for help.

As Lian's ghost slipped further from view, I felt a surge of determination rise within me. I could no longer stand by and let her story be forgotten. I had to uncover the truth, to expose the darkness that had claimed her life.