Sculpted in Death

The moon waned and became full again.

Brenda finally thought of me. She took her phone out to check. Her mouth twisted into a smirk. "She's not coming home even when it's a holiday. What on earth is she up to these days?"

Layla lay sprawled across the couch. She was on cloud nine. Recently, her piece made it through the preliminary rounds and entered the final round of the competition.

Photos of the sculpture had gone viral on the internet. Many experts were impressed by her work. People started referring to Layla with the title of a sculpting prodigy.

The glory she earned was built upon my remains. Yet, I had to sit in a corner and listen to her slandering my name endlessly.

Layla pretended to look at her phone. "Hazel told me she won't be back for the holidays. Maybe she's celebrating with her boyfriend?"

That was complete nonsense. I never had a boyfriend.

I furrowed my brows as I could not understand why she would lie like that.

Brenda's eyes hardened after she heard Layla's words. "I knew it. She must be hiding something for her to not come home all this time.

"She started dating as soon as she went to college. If she needed a man so badly, she should have chosen to work at bars or clubs. She could have scored herself a rich man and brought home some money.

"What's the use of her dating the young boys in her college? She'll only be sleeping with them for free.

"If it weren't because I tried to save that useless child back then, someone like me, who had a medical degree, would not have ended up working as a pharmacist now. Not only is the pay low, but I also have to suck up to others."

I could not understand how someone like Brenda, who had received that level of education, could always curse at me like a shrew about a series of different things each time.

In truth, it was Layla who had tricked me back then by saying that her doll got stuck on a tree branch. I had climbed the tree to help her retrieve the doll.

Yet, when I told Brenda what happened, she shot me a baleful glare and slapped me. "You brat! You're putting the blame on your sister when you're the one who's at fault!

"Layla is a good child. Why would she ask you to climb a tree? You're spouting blatant lies now!"

She slowly moved her right wrist in circles. Her eyes were red. "If I had known you'd only bring me trouble, I would have just sat on you after you had fallen off the tree."

I silently wiped a tear off the corner of my eye as those memories came back to me. Even though I was already dead, the thought of what happened then still made me feel sad.

Layla curled her lips in delight. She got up from the couch and assumed a docile demeanor. She put her arms around Brenda's shoulders.

"Don't be angry, Mom. It's not worth it for you to get mad at someone like that. You have me, right?"

This was what she always did. Layla could switch between her two different selves effortlessly.

Brenda's expression gradually softened. She stroked Layla's hair gently. "My Layla is the best. Well, Hazel can do whatever she wants. She's only going to get knocked up eventually if she carries on like this. We'll see what she'll do about it when that happens."

I closed my eyes for a moment. That was my biological mother. Yet, she would not hesitate to say the most hurtful words to me.

Both Layla and I were our parents' daughters. I just could not understand why they only ever seemed to care about her.

Feeling indignant, I squeezed myself in between the two of them. I carefully wrapped my arms around Brenda's waist. It was something that I had wanted to do for years but dared not do.

However, I could not sense any warmth from her even though I had stuck my body close to hers.

After that brief moment they had thought about me during the holidays, the Larsons once again forgot all about me.

That was until Philip came home one day looking completely thrilled. With an invitation card in his hand, Philip almost tripped and fell as he entered through the door.

From what I could recall, the only other time he acted like this was when I was still in primary school. I had won first place in an art competition held at the district level at that time, and Philip was invited to give a speech on stage as a parent representative of the student who won.

Although Brenda treated me harshly, Philip would still look out for me at the time.

Philip placed the invitation card on the table and announced excitedly, "Layla, the results from the final assessment are out. You won first place! The organizers have invited us to an event happening this week to receive your prize."

Layla spun around several times as she was overjoyed. Brenda gave her a tight embrace. "My baby is so amazing! I'm so proud of you."

Then, she pecked Layla on the forehead.

The sculpture, which had my bones and flesh incorporated in it, stood by itself in a corner of the room.

At that very moment, I felt an awful sensation as though all of my insides were turning. I could not even stay on my feet. Perhaps my remains inside the sculpture were crying out to me, begging me to help set them free.

I slowly hovered toward the sculpture and caressed its hand. A deep sense of grief and despair washed over me.

Philip seemed to have sensed something and turned his eyes toward us just then.