Novel & Cerita My Sister's Grave

Closer. I turned sharply this time, wiping my tears angrily. “Why are on earth you here?” I snapped. “Haven’t you done enough?” His expression didn’t change. Calm. Controlled. Like always. “I needed to talk to you.” I laughed bitterly. “Talk?” I repeated. “About what? Have you not spoken enough? You completely ruined everything, you knew I was her sister, didn’t you?” His jaw tightened slightly. But he didn’t interrupt. “My sister…” My voice broke again, softer this time. “Do you even understand what this means?”

My sister's skin was blackened and hardened, just like necrotic meat that'd gone through twelve sessions of punctures. My sister was subjected to the bed where she told me, "Don't go after Charles. His family's too powerful. Just pretend I never existed." I swallowed all my bitter anger and resentment as I swore to do as she wished. She died three days later—at 5:17 a.m. I was in the corridor, on my knees, and bawling my eyes out. I buried my sister underneath the tree on the hill behind our little town. Gregory asked a carpenter to whip up a coffin on the spot. It was made out of pine and never painted.

How could they take everyone I love away from me? I sat there, tears streaming down my face, holding onto my sister one last time. Standing up, I sought for a suitable spot and began digging with my bare hands to lay my sister to rest. I couldn't bury my father, or mother, or brother, but at least I could bury my sister. I gently placed her in the hole, holding onto her tightly as tears flowed uncontrollably. "May the moon goddess's light illuminate your path to the underworld, where shadows dance in eternal embrace." I whispered softly.

I scoff, thinking that death is a fitting punishment for someone as evil as the occupant of this grave. I continue walking, my legs trembling as I approach his grave. I pause when I see fresh flowers, a sign that she must've been here recently. I push the flowers aside and read the words, my heart aching: “HERE LIES JAMES JOHNSON, a friend and a brother.”

“Dead,” Charles repeated slowly, staring at the woman standing at the end of the drive. “Aunt Margaret. My father told me his sister died as an infant. There’s a grave. I’ve seen it. There’s a headstone in the family plot with her name on it.” “I know,” the woman said softly. “I’ve seen it too. Years ago, before I understood what it actually meant. I used to think it was strange that my own grave existed somewhere I’d never visited.”

I wonder if this will be my death place. "Out of the way, grieving mama." I made a left turn and finally got to my sister's grave. I brought my flowers with me as always—I would never leave without them. "Beatrice…" I read the name out loud. My heart is saddened. Everything I did was to get her revenge. I know she would have been more wicked than me if she were in my shoes. She wouldn't sleep a single night knowing that her sister's killer is out there breathing. "I love you so much, and I hope you see all my efforts to bring them down. I am never going to let any of them breathe while you lie here lifeless… I… I will…" Tears rolled down my cheeks as I said th

But first, she went to a flower shop and bought some flowers. "Big sister, I apologize if I haven't visited you in a while," she said, placing Lena's favorite white roses in front of her grave. It was a mausoleum, and beside Lena's were their parents' graves. She paid her respects to them too, although she wasn't very close to her parents even when they were alive. It was always Lena who patiently talked to her. So she loved Lena so much. She missed her a lot. "Yesterday, I finally saw Big brother Miguel," she began telling her sister.

The sky was gray. Not stormy, not weeping — just gray. Quiet. Still. Like even the heavens didn't know how to mourn someone who'd been both victim and villain in the same heartbeat. Tasha was buried beside our father. Not among the pack members — not in the honoured stone ring — but here, on the outer ridge where traitors rested. A lonely patch of earth. No carved markers. No polished stones. Just soil and silence. I stood between the two graves — the father who abandoned us and the sister who betrayed me — with white moon lilies clutched in my hands.

She then placed the bracelet in her pocket, knowing that it would be a constant reminder of her sister. As the pack members finished digging the hole and placing Alexandria's casket inside, Mia stood at the edge of the grave, her eyes fixed on the bracelet in her pocket. She knew that her sister was gone, but she also knew that she would always be with her in spirit. Mia stood quietly watching as they cover her sisters grave with gravel, staring hole in front of her. Her father, Kylo, stood next to her, his eyes fixed on the ground. The air was silent, except for the occasional sound of birds chirping.

Every vertebrae of the spine could be felt, rolling as he walked, threatening to pierce the back. He felt with stomach drop at the cemetery gates came into view, an icy chill replacing it. The sight brought to the forefront his mortality, memories of friends and family lost in the other world. The image of seeing his sister, stiff and like a china doll in her cheap plywood casket, carefully positioned to hide the wounds that ended her. He had only been four at the time he had been led into the church, the incense burning his nose and the echo of his tiny footsteps banging in her head.