49 days have passed since she died.
I still haven't gotten out of bed.
I only eat when I'm forced to.
And I do not talk.
Not to anyone.
Not since she died.
Not since it happened.
"Molly, get up you have to go to school today!!" My aunt says with fake enthusiasm.
Wait, school?
Hahahaha no.
When I don't make any move to get out of bed, my aunt lifts me up and out of my comfy bed.
I violently shake my head no.
I am not going to school.
No way.
I went for a few months after it happened.
But I just couldn't stay.
So many happy people are there.
Their joy makes me feel queasy.
"You are and that is final." My aunt says.
I really do not like Aunt Kara.
YOU ARE READING
49
Short Story"The number 49 never used to have any significance in my life. It was always just the number after 48 and before 50. But that was before it happened."
