Her Neglect, My Undying Haunted Soul

Eva Graham POV:

The news anchor' s voice, a grim monotone, continued to echo through the lavish living room. "We urge all adventurers and hikers to avoid the New England National Park area. Law enforcement officials are not commenting further at this time, but the scene is active and considered dangerous."

Kellan, still glued to the screen, let out a low whistle. "Man, that's wild. Remember that glamping trip? We were right near there."

Carina, ever the dramatic one, shivered theatrically. "Don't even say that, Kellan. It's creepy. I'm glad we left when we did."

Hilda, her forehead creased in a frown, stared intently at the screen. A flicker of unease crossed her face, quickly replaced by her usual disdain.

Kellan suddenly jumped up, his eyes alight. "Wait, this is perfect! I can tell all my college buddies I almost got caught up in a crime scene! That'll totally boost my cred."

Hilda' s brief tension dissipated, replaced by a slight smile. "Well, that's one way to look at it, dear. But let's not make light of a serious situation."

She turned from the screen, her focus shifting. "Now, about your grandmother's birthday. Have you both thought about what you're going to say for her speech? It needs to be heartfelt, but not overly sentimental. And of course, the gifts. Kellan, you know what she prefers."

"Eva always helped me pick out Grandma's gifts," Kellan mumbled, a rare hint of sadness in his voice. "She had a knack for finding just the right thing."

Carina, sensing a shift in attention, quickly interjected. "Don't worry, Mom. My gift is absolutely perfect. Grandma will be thrilled."

Kellan, already distracted, turned back to the TV, clicking through channels. The news report was gone, replaced by a mindless reality show.

Hilda' s smile faltered at the mention of my name, a familiar sneer tightening her lips. "Eva always had to be the special one, didn't she? Always manipulating Gwendolyn with her 'uniqueness'."

She stood up, her silk dressing gown swishing around her ankles. "I'm going to bed. This whole Eva situation has exhausted me."

She retreated to her spacious bedroom, the door clicking softly behind her. I followed, a silent observer in her gilded cage.

Hilda sank onto her king-sized bed, picking up her phone. She scrolled, then checked her messages. Nothing from me. The silence from my end was deafening, even to her.

She remembered our last conversation, a yelling match, as most of ours were. I had tried to explain why I couldn't come to some charity gala she was hosting. I was working, barely making ends meet. She had accused me of being ungrateful, of trying to sabotage her.

A strange, unfamiliar churn twisted in her gut. It wasn't concern, not really. More like… irritation that her carefully curated life was being disrupted.

She recorded another voicemail, her voice sharper than before. "Eva, this is your mother. I' ve called, I' ve texted. Your grandmother' s jubilee is this weekend. If you don't show up, there will be serious consequences. I'm through with your games. Do not disappoint me."

She threw the phone onto her bedside table and closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep. My ghost hovers, wanting to cry, but no tears would come.

Consequences? You have no idea, Mother.

I remembered my graduation six months ago. My proudest moment. I had graduated with honors, a degree in graphic design, a path I had chosen myself. I called them, eager for them to be there. But Carina had a minor sniffle, a "terrible allergic reaction" to a new perfume. They cancelled at the last minute.

"We can't leave Carina in this state, Eva," Hilda had said, her voice devoid of apology. "You understand, don't you? Some things are more important."

I didn' t understand. I never did. When I expressed my disappointment, they had banished me. "If you're going to be so dramatic, Eva, perhaps it's best you find your own way. We've done enough for you."

I hadn't told Gwendolyn. She would have been furious with Hilda. I never wanted to cause trouble for her. And I couldn' t bring myself to use her connections to find a job, even when I was starving. My pride, what little I had left, wouldn't allow it.

Hilda knew my weakness. She knew I craved her approval, her love. She had used it against me countless times, threatening to cut me off, to disown me. In the past, I would always cave, always apologize, always try to win her back.

But now, I was dead. Her threats were meaningless. The strings that bound me to her were severed.

The next morning, Hilda woke up to a stream of messages. Not from me, but from her friend, Penelope.

Penelope (8:00 AM): Hilda, darling, everything alright? Haven't seen Eva around. She's usually so good about checking in on me.

Penelope (8:05 AM): I bought her that little art book she wanted for Christmas. Planning to give it to her at Gwendolyn's party. Hope she comes!

Penelope (8:10 AM): I know she's been struggling a bit, but she's such a sweet girl. Always thinking of others.

Hilda read the messages, a strange sense of unease settling in her chest. Penelope meant well, but her constant praise of Eva always grated on her nerves. Eva had always been a "sweet girl" to everyone else, a "troublemaker" to her own family.

She tossed her phone onto the bed. Penelope's words were a distant echo. The quiet in the house, however, was deafening. No calls from me. No texts. Nothing. And for the first time, Hilda felt a cold dread creep into her heart. It wasn't just silence anymore. It was an absence. A void.