Cassie died when she was six. For a whole three minutes, she wasn’t responsive. The strange thing was, she could hear everything that was going on around her. The strangled yell of the doctors, the flatlining of the machine, the screams of her mother in the next room. If she were to be completely honest, she felt indifferent about dying—she still does—and every time she thinks about it, it always seems to lead back to Amber. 

Cassie died just a few months after her sister did. Amber had a kind of sickness that infected her lungs. Cassie doesn’t remember much, she was so young, but Amber seemed to be gone in a matter of weeks. One day, she was the smiley, optimistic teen that she called her sister, but the next, Amber was gasping for air, blood spilling from her lips. 

As it turns out, this sickness is hereditary, and Cassie has it. It was devastating for her parents to hear, especially after losing their other daughter to the same disease, but after the doctor had given Cassie a very watered-down explanation—one that her little six-year-old brain could understand—she remembered a small part of her being fine with it. Happy, really. Happy that she might finally be able to see her sister again. 

This time is different, she can feel it. This time she might actually die. 

It happens in her sleep; at least she thinks it does. Maybe she’s just in that weird place where her body’s asleep, but her brain isn’t. She can hear everything, and it gives her a strange sense of deja vu, like she’s unlocked a memory she didn’t know existed. 

“Cassandra? Cassie, can you hear me?” A voice cuts through her cloudy vision, causing her to focus on the strange sensation. Her throat feels like it’s being ripped in half, her vocal chords bleeding from the pressure. 

She wants to answer the voice, she wants to tell them that she’s not dead; not yet, anyway, but she can’t. Her body won’t let her. 

The voice says something else that she can’t decipher, and the intensity in the way they say it makes Cassie want to claw her way out of this seemingly impossible situation. 

Her ears are ringing, the sound so high pitched that it could be confused for a dog whistle. It mades her head ache with fatigue. 

Part of Cassie thinks this is a good thing, one more burden lifted off the shoulders of her parents, but she knows that’s not true. Sure, they will mourn her death, cry in eachothers arms for months, but they’ll move on. They always do. She watched with her own eyes when Amber died. Within a year she’s sure they were over it. Either that or they had gone numb.

Within the darkness that suddenly envelops her, her body slowly materializes, starting at her feet and slowly climbing its way up until she can see the tip of her nose. The area surrounding her is pitch black. She can hardly tell up from down, when the nothingness is so severe. She’s not dressed in a hospital gown anymore, but instead a completely white shirt and pants, fit with matching shoes and socks.  

“What…?” she mutters, flexing her fingers. They don’t feel like hers, but more like an artist's interpretation of what they might look like. She can’t tell what’s wrong with them, maybe it’s the size of the fingernails, maybe they’re too long, or too wide, but they’re not hers. 

The quiet is suddenly sliced open, an ear-splitting scream corrupting her thoughts. It takes her a moment to place the voice, her brain too sluggish to do much of anything, but soon it clicks. Amber. It’s Amber. She can tell her voice from anywhere. 

“Amber?” It starts off as a mutter, her body slowly catching up with her mind, but it quickly escalates into a full-out scream, “Amber!”

Her body moves before she can tell it anything else, dragging her through the darkness.  She feels like she’s not getting anywhere, and everywhere she turns, she sees only black, making it feel like her body is stuck on some kind of eternal treadmill, running her in circles. She sprints until her lungs run dry and color clouds her vision.  It’s only then that she allows herself to collapse. She covers her ears as best as she can, not used to her unfamiliar and dream-like limbs. 

After what seems like hours of agonizing noise, the screams slowly diffuse into whimpers, along with the occasional hiccup. She slowly stands, wiping the tears from her eyes. It’s embarrassing how much this affects her. She died eight years ago, for crying out loud, but she guesses the cries of anyone would make her crumble, no matter how soft. 

A few feet in front of her lays a moaning mess of a body. Blood surrounds it in a circle so perfect it might look purposeful, the dark liquid hardly visible against the black of the void. 

This must just be in her mind, this thing shouldn’t be able to hurt her, yet she still hesitates when walking towards it. 

She can’t help but think about how dehumanizing this looks. To be reduced to something someone calls an ‘it’ must be its own form of punishment. 

An uneasy feeling fills the air, and she feels like she should have the free will to walk away, yet she can’t make herself do it. 

Not yet.

Matted black hair covers what she thinks is its head. It’s so mangled that she can’t tell where the blood is coming from, only that it’s covered in it. Its clothes are in shambles, ripped haphazardly and devoid of any recognizable color. 

Abruptly, it starts coughing. Hacking, even. It’s so violent that its whole body trembles and shakes. Its head whips around with the movement, showcasing a bloody spurt that trickles down its chin. It's only when she sees a flash of green that Cassie recognizes who this is. Amber’s cloudy green eyes stare back at her, unblinking. The sight almost makes her sick, and she has to suppress a gag, the taste of bile creeping up her throat. 

“Cass…?” At first she doesn’t understand what she says, her speech is so garbled. But after a few seconds, the words hit her in the chest. She hasn’t been called that name in years. The term of endearment catches Cassie off guard. 

“Amber?” she whispers. She kneels in front of her body, trying to get another glimpse of her. This isn’t her. This can’t be her. Not with the missing teeth, black eye, and blood covering every inch of her body. It’s not her Amber. She’s almost unrecognizable. 

Cassie’s hand moves of its own accord. Her fingertips are just inches from her face when Amber lets out such a pained groan that it makes Cassie recoil away from her. Her hands claw and scratch at her body, leaving fresh blood in its wake, bright red mingling with the brown. She reaches out, grabbing onto Cassie’s ankle. She tries to wiggle out of her grasp, but her grip only tightens. 

“Please!” Her voice is gravely and scratched from disuse. Tears leak out of her eyes, streaking down her bloodied cheeks. 

“You have to help me,” she says, her voice morphing into something even more sinister, “You have to let me out, please!” 

Soon, her tears soak Cassie’s socks, mixing with the blood from her hand. Her fingernails dig into her leg as she climbs her way up Cassie’s body. At first glance, it looks like the blood scattering Cassie’s pants are only from Amber’s wounds, but as she watches the splotches on her pant leg slowly grow bigger, she realizes that’s not the case. It might just be her imagination, but within the commotion she swears she sees Amber’s fingernails sharpen, ripping and digging into her flesh. 

She wonders if this is just a preview of what is to come when she dies; or maybe she’s already dead, and this is her punishment. It’s a dark thought, but a thought nonetheless. 

She tries to shove Amber away, pushing at her face and shoulders, but eventually she climbs eye-to-eye with her. This is definitely not Cassie’s sister, it’s some deranged animal that just happens to look like the sister that she lost so long ago.

A mixture of blood and spit dribbles from Amber’s mouth onto Cassie’s face, creeping towards her eyes. She wants to tell her to get off, but she can’t. Even though she knows this isn’t Amber, something inside her won’t allow herself to be angry with her, not when this is the first time she’s seen her in eight years. 

Cassie grunts and squirms, Amber’s nails breaking through the skin on her arms. She looks at her almost greedily, like she can’t wait to watch her die. 

Amber’s eyes don’t look green anymore, but a deep mixture of hatred and sadness like Cassie has never seen. Her own tears trail their way down her cheeks, pooling in her ears. Amber’s head is so close that she has to cross her eyes to get her into focus. 

Slowly, Amber aims her mouth down towards her right ear. She licks her lips and whispers something. It makes Cassie shiver. 

“Can’t you join me? I’m so lonely here.”

She can’t answer her. She doesn’t want to die. She can’t die. People need her. The real Amber would want her to live; if not for herself, then for her, to give her everything she couldn’t have. 

The imitation of Amber slowly gets closer to Cassie’s face, her teeth morphing into fangs.

Think about Mom and Dad. 

Think about life.

Think about Amber.

Just as she thinks that she’s lost, that she’ll never be able to live a life for Amber, a ripping sensation claws at the back of her throat, and she’s back, gasping for breath through an oxygen mask, her dead sister’s face tattooed on the inside of her eyelids.