Semua Bab This Time, Don't Laugh While I'm Dying: Bab 1 - Bab 10

"Jenny, dinner's ready!"My mother, Gloria Chapman, called through the bedroom door, her voice laced with impatience.I didn't move, not because I didn't want to, but because I couldn't.My eyes were swollen into narrow slits. My lips had ballooned so much that I couldn't close my mouth, and my throat felt as though someone had stuffed a burning lump of charcoal inside it. Every breath felt like inhaling embers."Jenny! Did you hear me? Dinner is ready! Come out now!" Mom yelled again, louder this time.I could hear the irritation creeping into her voice. She was starting to lose her patience."Mom, she's throwing a fit again," my younger brother, Adrian Lupton, chimed in from the living room. "I just put a little peanut butter in her food as a joke." He laughed lightly, as if talking about something completely harmless.A joke.He said it so casually, as if putting peanut butter into the food of someone with a severe peanut allergy was just a fun little experiment, like droppi

"Mom, is Jenny okay?" Adrian asked, his voice suddenly quieter."Why wouldn't she be?" Mom replied from the kitchen while washing dishes. The rush of running water nearly drowned out her words."She's always like this, making a huge deal out of everything." She paused, then added, "Remember when you pulled her chair out? She was in bed for two months, but she turned out totally fine."I drifted into Adrian's room.His computer was still on, with a game running on the screen. He lounged in his chair with his feet propped on the desk, lazily sucking on a lollipop.Just then, his phone buzzed with a text from a friend. "Dude, how's your sister?"Adrian typed back almost immediately. "She's fine. Just faking it like always.""Your mom didn't yell at you?""Why would she? She knows that my sister is just being dramatic.""I see. Switch it up next time, haha."Adrian grinned and swirled the lollipop to the other side of his mouth as his thumbs flew across the screen."Sure. Next t

Mom's scream shattered the silence of the afternoon. She rushed forward and touched my face. It was ice cold. She then checked for my breath, but there was nothing. Her hands trembled as she frantically searched for my phone and dialed 911. "Please hurry! My daughter... My daughter, she... she isn't moving..." Mom was sobbing so hard that she could barely speak. She gave the address twice but got it wrong both times, her words coming out in broken fragments. "Please, you have to hurry... I think she's... I think she's..." She couldn't bring herself to say the word. She just couldn't.I floated beside her, watching her falling apart. For a moment, she felt like a stranger to me.It turned out she would cry for me. She could be afraid, and she did care about me after all.But why didn't she come inside and look at me? Just one glance, and she would have known that something was wrong. But she didn't. She just stood at the door for three seconds, then walked away. The ambulance

Mom replied, her expression blank, "Your sister is dead. She died last night. Her peanut allergy caused her to stop breathing. They couldn't save her."Adrian stood frozen, unable to process what he had just heard."No... that's impossible. It's just an allergy... I've done it before, and she was always fine...""Before?" Mom's eyes widened in shock. "You've done it before?"Realizing what he had just revealed, Adrian took a step back."I... I only did it a few times... I didn't think it was that serious..." he stammered.Mom stood up and walked toward him. "You've done this before? How many times?""Two… or three times... I don't remember..." Adrian's voice trailed off.Mom's face tightened. "Did she ever tell you that she felt sick?""She did... but she always got better after a while... I thought this time would be the same..." Adrian swallowed hard.Mom raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face.…It rained on the day of my funeral, just as the weather foreca

Mom went to see a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist diagnosed her with severe depression and recommended that she be admitted for treatment, but Mom refused. Instead, she went home and spent her days in my room, sorting through my belongings, reading my diary, and crying. Late one night, she walked into the kitchen and picked up a knife. I watched from beside her. Her eyes were empty and unfocused, like she was lost in a world of her own. She pressed the cold blade against her wrist and muttered, "Jenny... I'm coming to be with you." Just as she was about to do it, her phone rang. It was Grandma. Mom didn't answer. The phone kept ringing, and on the eighth ring, she finally put the knife down and picked up the phone. "Gloria, what are you doing?" Grandma's voice sounded frail and weary. "Nothing," Mom replied. Her voice was hoarse. "I dreamed about Jenny," Grandma said. "She asked me to tell you to stay strong. She said she's doing fine over there, so you don't need to