Carolina POV

My mother' s voice, a distant echo now, still held the power to chill. She was still talking, unaware of my fading form. "She' s never been right, that girl," she murmured, her voice laced with manufactured sadness, the kind she used for distant relatives she barely knew. "Ever since she was a little thing. So moody. So… gloomy."

Carleton nodded grimly. "No sense of family loyalty. Always drifting. What will she ever make of herself?" The question hung in the air, a judgment already delivered.

Estrella, ever the dutiful daughter, spoke up, her voice honeyed with feigned concern. "Oh, Mother, Father, don' t be so hard on Caro. Maybe she' s just… lost. She needs us." Her words were perfectly calibrated, designed to paint her as the compassionate sister while subtly reinforcing my perceived failings.

Hulda' s expression softened instantly. "You' re too kind, my darling. Always thinking of others." She squeezed Estrella' s hand. "That' s why everyone loves you, Estrella. Unlike some people, who only think of themselves." Her gaze, though not directed at me, felt like a physical weight on my vanishing essence.

I watched, a detached observer, as Estrella' s performance unfolded. The slight tilt of her head, the well-timed sniffle, the way her eyes glistened without actually shedding tears. It was a masterpiece of manipulation, honed over years, and my parents were its most ardent audience.

They won' t believe me, even if I screamed the truth from the rooftops. I knew this. I had tried, so many times, to tell them about Estrella' s cruel games, her subtle sabotages. Each time, I was met with their unwavering disbelief, followed by lectures on my jealousy and imagination.

I remembered a time, I must have been eight, and Estrella was six. She' d deliberately broken my favorite porcelain doll, a gift from my grandmother. When I cried and told Mother, Estrella had immediately burst into loud, theatrical sobs, claiming I had pushed her and called her names. Mother had grounded me for a week and made me apologize to Estrella. I had stopped trying to explain after that. It was easier to just accept the blame.

It was always easier. For them, for me. This pattern, this dance of their adoration and my dismissal, had become as natural as breathing.

Suddenly, the door burst open. My older sister, the perpetually stressed but fiercely loyal Victoria, rushed in, her face pale with worry. "Estrella! My God, are you alright?" She ignored my prostrate form in the hallway, her focus, like everyone else' s, solely on the golden child.

Victoria rushed to Estrella' s bed, her hands hovering over her. When she saw Estrella' s small bandage and heard her soft assurances, Victoria exhaled a ragged sigh of relief. "Thank heavens. I was so worried."

Then, her eyes landed on my unmoving body in the hallway. Her face hardened, twisting into a mask of fury. "And she caused all this, didn' t she? That… that nuisance. Always ruining everything." She spat the words, her contempt palpable.

Estrella, seeing her cue, whimpered. "Vicky, don' t be mean. Carolina didn' t mean to… she didn't mean to cause trouble." But her words only fueled Victoria' s rage.

The entire family erupted. Carleton slammed his fist on the bedside table. "How did this even happen, Estrella? That girl is going to pay for this!"

Hulda' s teeth clenched. "She will regret the day she ever crossed us. She will regret it deeply."

Victoria' s eyes, usually sharp, were now narrowed with pure malice, fixed on my form.

Estrella, realizing the fury might be turning a little too strongly against me, and thus potentially damaging her "innocent" image, quickly intervened. "No, no, please! Don' t be angry at Carolina. I' m sure it was just an accident. She wouldn' t hurt me on purpose, I know she wouldn' t." Her voice was sweet, a perfect balm to their rage.

Victoria patted Estrella' s arm. "You' re too kind, darling. You always were. You always think the best of everyone." But her eyes still flickered with suspicion towards my body.

Hulda chimed in, "Estrella has a heart of gold. She loves her sister, even when Carolina is so… difficult." She looked at Carleton. "Estrella is right. We shouldn' t completely condemn Carolina without knowing the full story. Perhaps she needs help." But the tone suggested 'help' was more like 'reprimand'.

Carleton nodded, appeased. "For Estrella' s sake, we' ll let it go. This time."

I watched their harmonious tableau, a tight-knit unit of adoration and shared disdain, and a wave of indescribable pain, sharper than any physical wound, washed over my spirit. I was an outsider looking in, not just to this room, but to this family, this life.

My spirit felt trapped, bound to this lingering shell, forced to witness the final, cruel rites of my abandonment. I wanted to scream, to tear free, but I was utterly powerless. I could only stand by, a silent, unseen witness to the contempt they showered upon my memory, even before it was truly established.

Carolina POV

A few days later, Estrella was discharged. The hospital became a flurry of activity, all centered around her. Hulda bustled around Estrella' s room, carefully packing her cashmere sweaters and silk pajamas into a monogrammed weekend bag. She fussed over every detail, ensuring Estrella' s comfort.

Carleton, ever the pragmatic one, had his sleek, black sedan pulled directly to the hospital' s main entrance, defying all parking regulations. He stood guard by the door, impatiently checking his watch, as if Estrella' s delicate constitution couldn' t bear another moment inside the sterile walls.

Victoria, ever the doting older sister, refused to let Estrella tie her own sneakers. She knelt, her brow furrowed with concern, meticulously lacing them up as if performing a sacred ritual.

On the drive home, Hulda sighed dramatically. "I just wish Carolina had been there. It' s so unlike her to be so disrespectful. After all we' ve done for her." She tapped her perfectly manicured nails against the dashboard.

Carleton grunted in agreement. "She' ll get what' s coming to her. This time, she' s gone too far." The words, casual and inevitable, hung in the air like a guillotine blade.

A strange mix of emotions swirled within my hovering spirit. Dread, yes, a faint echo of the fear I once felt. But also, a profound weariness. What could they do to me now that they hadn't already? What else could they take?

This favoritism, this lopsided affection, it wasn't new. It had been the air I breathed since birth. Estrella, the delicate, beautiful younger sister, born premature after a terrifying car accident that had nearly taken Hulda' s life.

I remembered it vividly, though I was only four. The screech of tires, the smell of burning rubber. I had been in the back seat, unhurt, but Mother had been rushed to the hospital, bleeding. Estrella, a tiny, fragile package, had been born too early. Seeing her minuscule form in the incubator, hooked up to a tangle of tubes, had broken my parents' hearts. My father had blamed me.

"If you hadn' t distracted your mother, this never would have happened!" he' d bellowed, his hand connecting sharply with my cheek. "You' re a curse, Carolina! A curse on this family!" Hulda, pale and weak, had watched with a silent, defeated look in her eyes. It was then, I realized, that I had become the family scapegoat.

Another memory, sharp and vivid, pierced through the dullness of my non-existence. I was perhaps seven, clutching a worn, velvet-bound sketchbook, filled with my childish drawings. It was my most prized possession. Estrella, then five, had demanded it.

"I want to draw in it!" she' d shrieked, her voice rising to a terrible pitch.

"No, Estrella, it' s mine," I' d pleaded, pulling it away. "I' m drawing something for Grandma."

She' d immediately collapsed to the floor in a fit of manufactured tears, wailing about how I never shared, how I was always mean to her.

Mother had rushed in, her face contorted with anger. "Carolina! What are you doing to your sister? Give her the sketchbook at once!"

"But it' s mine!" I' d tried to explain, tears blurring my vision. "I was drawing…"

Estrella, still sobbing, looked up with wide, innocent eyes. "It' s okay, Mommy. Carolina can keep it. I just wanted to draw a picture for her." The lie was so perfectly crafted, so self-sacrificing, it made my stomach churn even now.

Later that evening, Father returned home. He hadn' t even taken off his jacket before Mother, her voice dripping with indignation, recounted my alleged cruelty. His face had darkened. He' d grabbed me by the arm, dragging me to my room.

"You ungrateful child!" he' d roared, his belt already in his hand. "How dare you upset your sister? You don' t deserve to be in this house!" The blows rained down, hard and fast. I cried, begging him to stop, but he just hit harder, convinced my tears were crocodile tears.

Mother and Victoria stood in the doorway, watching, their faces impassive. Not a single word of protest, not a single gesture of comfort.

After that, I stopped fighting. I stopped explaining. I simply endured. And now, in death, I was enduring the same cold abandonment.

Carolina POV

Back at the Fitzgerald mansion, Estrella was ensconced in luxury. She reclined on a silk chaise lounge in her opulent bedroom, scrolling through her phone, a picture of pampered serenity.

Victoria, humming a soft tune, brought in a tray laden with Estrella' s favorite herbal tea and delicate shortbread cookies. "I even learned your new recipe, darling," she cooed, placing the tray gently on a side table. "Just for you." Victoria, who rarely cooked anything more complicated than toast, had clearly gone to great lengths.

Carleton entered, a small, velvet box in his hand. He presented it to Estrella with a flourish. Inside nestled a dazzling diamond pendant. "A little something to cheer you up, my sweet girl."

Hulda, meanwhile, was rearranging a vase of fresh peonies on Estrella' s bedside table, ensuring the room was a perfect sanctuary. Estrella merely smiled, a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of her lips, acknowledging their adoration as her birthright.

I followed them, a silent wraith in my own family home. The familiar grandeur of the house felt alien, cold. It was their home, not mine. The warmth, the genuine affection, it had never extended to me. I want to leave. So badly. But I couldn't. I was a prisoner to this unfinished life.

Suddenly, the doorbell chimed, a bright, intrusive sound in the quiet opulence.

A moment later, Estrella' s boyfriend, Marcus, appeared at the living room archway. He was handsome, charming, and exactly the type my parents approved of. His eyes immediately sought Estrella, his face etched with concern.

"Estrella, my love, are you alright?" he rushed to her side, gently taking her hand. He' d brought a bouquet of her favorite white roses, their pristine petals a stark contrast to the dark suit he wore.

Estrella looked up at him, her eyes wide and slightly shy, a picture of vulnerability. "Marcus! I' m fine, really. Just a little shaken."

Marcus leaned in, kissing her forehead. His touch was tender, his voice laced with genuine affection. "I was so worried. I heard about the accident…"

A strange, sharp ache, something I hadn' t felt in this disembodied state, twisted in my ethereal chest. It was jealousy, raw and ugly, for a love I had never known. Marcus' s touch, his concern, they were meant for me.

Then, Marcus turned to my parents. "Where' s Carolina? Is she okay? I tried calling her, but she didn' t pick up."

Hulda waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, don' t worry about her. She' s probably off sulking somewhere. You know how she is. Always seeking attention." She rolled her eyes, a clear signal that Carolina was not worth discussing.

Marcus nodded, accepting her judgment without question. "Right. Of course." He turned his full attention back to Estrella.

Victoria, ever the helpful one, chimed in. "Maybe you should just break up with Carolina, Marcus. She' s clearly not good for you. Estrella, on the other hand, is loyal and kind." Her words were sharp, a thinly veiled push towards a new relationship.

Marcus' s cheeks flushed slightly. He glanced at Estrella, who offered him a delicate, encouraging smile. "I… I was planning on talking to Estrella about that," he mumbled, his gaze lingering on her.

Another wave of bitter, self-deprecating laughter rippled through my spirit. Of course. Of course, you were. He had been mine, once. But in this family, nothing was truly mine.

I couldn't watch anymore. I floated away, away from the sickening sweetness of their collective affection, away from the sting of betrayal. It was just another wound, another familiar ache in a lifetime of them.

Later that evening, the carefully constructed facade of peace began to crack. After dinner, Hulda paced the study, her face tight with irritation. "I still can' t reach Carolina! What is wrong with that girl? Does she have any idea how much trouble she' s caused? Estrella is still shaken, and she needs her sister' s support, not this… disappearance!"

My spirit hovered near her, a silent observer. I' m right here, Mother. Or rather, I' m not. And that' s the problem, isn' t it?

Hulda snatched up the phone again, this time dialing the hospital. Her voice, when she spoke, was imperious. "I want to speak to the nurse in charge of my daughter, Carolina Fitzgerald. Tell her to put Carolina on the phone immediately. She has some explaining to do."

There was a pause, a series of muffled questions from the other end. Hulda' s face tightened further. "What do you mean, she' s not available? I demand to speak to her!"

Then, the nurse' s voice, clear and concise, came through the phone, even to my spirit. "Mrs. Fitzgerald, I' m very sorry to inform you, but your daughter, Carolina Fitzgerald, passed away from her injuries shortly after admission."

The words hung in the air, cold and definitive.