Cursed by Death

Chapter 1

        I curl up in the armchair in front of the fire, pull my wool blanket over me, and close my laptop. I've just finished my online classes for the day. I get up, walk to the kitchen and open the fridge. I take out some leftover cranberry sauce and eat it with a spoon. Leaning against the counter, I close my eyes.
        Life is good.
        My iPhone buzzes, and I open my eyes. I pick it up. It's a text from Amber. "Hey..." it says.
        I frown. That's odd; Amber is always peppy. I open Messenger and type a reply: "Hey, what's up?"
        Amber answers quickly. "I can't do this anymore."
        My heart quickens. I text her back. "Are you okay?"
        Her answer: "I need your help."
        I let out a breath. She's just playing ominous. I send a response. "Wow, that sounds dark! Stop being so mysterious, haha!"
        There's a long pause. Then she finally replies. "I'm sorry."
        "No need to be sorry. What's going on?" I text.
        She takes a while to reply. "Nothing. Be strong. Good-bye."
        I quickly text back. "Wait.. what's wrong?" But she doesn't answer. Worry floods through me. Did she...kill herself?
        But then I remember - Amber's the happiest person I know. She's always smiling and cracking jokes. Besides, even if she were depressed, she would have told me. We're best friends; that's what friends do.
        Right?
        I don't have time to think about it anymore, because the front door opens. Mom and Dad come in.
        "Hey, honey!" Dad smiles and gives me a hug. "How was your day?"
        "Great, thanks." I kiss him on the cheek and go to help Mom.
        She hands me her bag. "Thanks, sweetie," she says, as I carry it to the couch. She walks over to it and sits down. I sit down next to her and snuggle up, my head against her chest.
        "Did you take it easy today?" I ask, squeezing her hand.
        That is the question I've been asking for the past couple weeks, and the reason for that is that Mom is a bit overweight. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem, except lately, she's been having some trouble climbing stairs. Dad tries to convince her to lose weight, but I know all she needs to do is take it easy.
        She chuckles. "As easy as I could."
        I pat her hand and stand up, stretch, and yawn. "Well, I'd better be getting to bed." I go upstairs.
        "Aren't you hungry for supper?" Dad calls.
        I yell back, "Nah. I had a big lunch, and a little snack before you guys got home." I head into my room and climb under the covers. Then I snuggle up and drift off to sleep to the faint sound of conversation downstairs.