Author Note:
This chapter is kinda meh, but at least someone dies. 🫤
Trigger Warning: Loss & grief, graphic violence and gore, disturbing imagery, transphobia, death
_____
"I'm so sorry Fawn," I apologized, turning away to cry into my suit sleeve. "This is all my fault."
"You bet it is." Skyler agreed.
They were right. This was all my fault.
My back crunched up. I slammed my elbows onto the casket to cry into my sleeves.
Fawn lied in the open casket. Her face was completely clear of eyebags—anything to indicate she was sleep deprived. I kept telling myself she was only asleep, since I knew she needed a nice, long uninterrupted sleep.
"Bestie, don't be too hard on yourself." Tabitha told me, placing a cold hand on my shoulder. "It's not like you killed her."
"Yeah..." I lightly brushed the influencer's hand off, turning around.
Everyone was standing around talking, smiling and laughing. No one cried or even seemed remotely sad about my sister's death.
"Do you guys even care?!" I shouted at the crowd.
"About what?" Tabitha innocently inquired.
"Fawn is dead!" I shouted at her, clenching my fist. "And all of you are standing around talking and going on with your lives as if she never existed!"
"It's not like we knew her that well." Minerva pointed out. "She was holed up in her room for most of the killing game."
"Plus, that horrific motive is over now." Rory stated, smiling as if they were about to giggle. "And we're all still alive."
"B-But... Fawn..." I sniffled, my vision watering.
"She's gone." Ameila shrugged. "But we aren't. We need to celebrate our survival, rather than mourn the failed survival of others."
"Agreed." Vanessa nodded. "Who's down for a party at my house?"
"Woohoo! Let's fuckin' party at Vanessa house!" Hunter cheered.
The others followed the equestrian's lead, cheering and clapping at Vanessa's proposal.
What...?
Everyone ripped off their formal black clothes, revealing white ones underneath. They threw confetti, popped party poppers, and sent colorful balloons flying to the ceiling.
Why doesn't anyone care? My sister is dead...!
"They only care about themselves." Whispered my sister. "As long as they get to live, it doesn't matter how many people die."
"No..." I frowned. "They're my friends. I trust them."
"What have they done for you?" Asked my sister's cadaver.
What have they done for me?
...
Why should I trust them?
"Well—" I started to say, before getting rudely interrupted.
The door to the funeral home slammed open, a hazy, shadowy figure stepping through the doors. Everyone trembled in its presence, stepping out of the way as it walked towards me.
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