The Silent Cry from the Coffin
On the day before my grandchild’s funeral, a faint voice came from somewhere. “Huh? What?” As I listened closely, it seemed to be coming from inside the coffin. Trembling with fear, I opened the lid of the coffin, and there was my three-year-old granddaughter, Olivia, who was supposed to have died from illness, tied up with chains.
“Grandma, you know…”
As unbelievable facts were told from my granddaughter’s mouth, I was at a loss for words. Unforgivable. How could this happen? The anger welling up inside me exceeded my limits of patience.
Chapter 1: The Beginning of Doubt
I lost my husband in an accident when I was thirty-eight. As a widow, I devoted all my energy to raising my son, Timothy, who was thirteen at the time. When Timothy was thirty-four, he married a woman named Sarah.
“You can finally relax now,” my friends all said, acknowledging my years of hard work.
Timothy and Sarah lived about a thirty-minute drive from my house, maintaining a comfortable distance. Soon after their marriage, we found out she was pregnant, and I was eagerly awaiting the birth of my first grandchild. When Sarah was in her third trimester, I visited their house to share some vegetables.
“We weren’t sure about the baby’s gender for a while, but it turns out it’s a girl,” Timothy said.
“Oh, how exciting!” I replied.
“Yes, but I really wanted a boy,” he sighed.
The couple seemed visibly disappointed that the baby wasn’t their desired gender.
“With a girl, you’ll have the joy of choosing cute outfits,” I said, trying to cheer them up. Of course, I thought the gender didn’t matter as long as the baby was born healthy, but I was trying to boost their spirits. However, they were so shocked they didn’t respond at all. Still, I thought once they saw their adorable newborn, they’d forget they ever felt that way.
A few months later, my granddaughter was born safely. They named her Olivia, and she was the sweetest little girl. I truly understood the saying “too precious for words.” I visited my son and daughter-in-law whenever I could to see my granddaughter. However, as I observed the two of them, something bothered me. Even when Olivia cried for a long time, they hardly paid attention to her.
“Oh my, what’s wrong?” I’d say, reaching out to pick her up.
But Sarah would glare at me. “Mother-in-law, don’t do that. She’ll get used to being held.”
“But… but isn’t it pitiful to leave her crying like this?” I was trying to help Sarah feel a bit more relaxed, but it seemed that wasn’t the right thing to do.
Timothy chimed in with a bitter expression. “She’s just fussy because she’s sleepy. It’s trendy now to teach them to sleep on their own from an early age.”
They both looked annoyed that I had voiced my opinion. “I suppose child-rearing has changed a lot since my day,” I said, deciding to step back and observe for a while.
However, as Olivia grew, my doubts about my son and daughter-in-law’s parenting only increased. When I visited their house, Olivia was always wearing ill-fitting clothes, and she would eagerly devour the snacks I brought as if she were starving.
Are they really taking proper care of her?
Worried, I tried to talk to my son about it, hoping to offer some help. “Stop nagging! Don’t interfere with how we raise our child!” Timothy shouted, refusing to listen. What’s more, every time I said something, he started treating Olivia roughly. Witnessing such behavior, I found myself unable to speak up and decided to keep quiet.
A little while later, around Olivia’s third birthday, Sarah became pregnant with their second child. While I was babysitting Olivia during their prenatal checkup, they returned home overjoyed. They had found out their next child would be a boy.
“Yes! I’m so excited!” Timothy exclaimed.
“That’s wonderful news, Olivia. You’re going to have a little brother,” I said.
“Yes! I can’t wait to meet my brother!” Olivia cheered.
Seeing Timothy and Sarah’s happiness and Olivia’s joy, I felt relieved. Maybe they’re slowly becoming a real family, I thought. However, my relief was short-lived.
Around this time, Olivia started falling ill frequently. Several times, I’d receive a message from Timothy the day before a planned visit saying, “Tomorrow won’t work.” When I asked why, he’d say Olivia wasn’t feeling well. Even when I offered to visit and check on her, they refused. After persistent pleading, they finally allowed me to come over, and I rushed to their house.
When I finally saw Olivia after a long time, she looked emaciated.
“Doesn’t she need to be hospitalized? If she’s at home, it can’t be that serious, right?” I asked.
Timothy hung his head, covering his face with his hands. “We thought it would be better for her to spend her remaining time at home,” he said, his voice trembling.
Hearing my son speak like this, I knew something was terribly wrong. “What’s her diagnosis? It must be quite serious, right?”
I was filled with disbelief and a desire to take Olivia’s place if I could. After that, I visited Olivia as often as time allowed, but my son and daughter-in-law gradually prevented me from seeing her, saying it might tire her out. This went on for about a month, and then it happened suddenly.
“Olivia has passed away,” Timothy informed me, and my world went dark.
Chapter 2: A Whispered Plea
She was only three years old. She had so many joyful experiences ahead of her. Thinking about how I couldn’t do anything for her, I broke down in tears. I was also worried about Sarah, who was in her final month of pregnancy, and my heart ached imagining how devastated she must be.
When I went to my son’s house, funeral preparations were underway, and Olivia was already in her coffin. As I approached the coffin, wanting to see Olivia’s face, Timothy, who had just entered the room, stopped me.
“No, don’t open it,” he said. “She went through tough treatments, so her body is in bad shape. I don’t want you to see her like that.”
That bad? I imagined a truly horrific end, unable to even see Olivia’s face. Though part of me couldn’t accept it, I tried to tell myself that Olivia would always be in my heart. Changing the subject, I asked my son if there was anything I could help with, but he said, “We’re fine for now.” So I decided to go home for the time being.
The next day, I visited their house again. It was the day of the funeral, but strangely, no one else had arrived yet besides me.
“Who else is coming?” I asked.
“No one. We want to send her off quietly, just as family,” Timothy replied. “Sarah’s parents are working overseas. We contacted them, but they said they couldn’t make it in time for the funeral, though they’d definitely come later.”
I understood. It was sudden, and it might be difficult for them to return at such short notice. We’ll give Olivia a proper send-off, even if it’s just us, I thought.
I was standing in front of the coffin, reminiscing about the time I spent with Olivia, when Timothy’s phone rang, and he stepped outside to take the call. At that moment, I heard a faint “Help me” coming from somewhere. Listening closely, it seemed to be coming from inside the coffin. Trembling, I opened the lid, and to my shock, there was Olivia—who was supposed to be dead—bound in chains and pleading for help.
“Olivia? What on earth is going on?”
I was confused by this sudden turn of events, but I knew without a doubt that my son and daughter-in-law were involved. I quickly helped Olivia out and hid her in the closet, telling her, “Wait here for just a bit, okay?”
“Sarah’s gone into labor!” Timothy came running back, his voice full of excitement. “I’m taking Sarah to the hospital now, so you should go home,” he said, gathering his wife’s belongings and tidying himself up.
“What about Olivia’s funeral?” I asked.
“That’s not important right now. The boy who’s about to be born is what matters,” he said this as if it were the most natural thing in the world, without even a change in his expression.
“But it’s sad to leave Olivia alone. I’ll stay here and keep watch,” I suggested, feeling it would be more convenient to remain in the house.
“Just because we’re not here doesn’t mean you can look inside the coffin. It would make Olivia sad,” Timothy warned, looking thoughtful for a moment before hurrying out of the room.
Even if you tell me not to look, it’s already too late, I thought to myself. After confirming that Timothy and Sarah had left, I rushed to the closet where Olivia was waiting.
“Olivia, it’s all right now,” I said, hugging her tightly. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”
After that, I heard an unbelievable story from her. As I had suspected, Timothy and Sarah were indeed the culprits. I will never forgive them. Unable to contain my anger, I decided to punish them and began preparing to corner the two of them.
Chapter 3: The Fake Funeral
The next day, I received a call from my son. “A healthy baby boy was born!” he announced in an elated voice.
“Congratulations! We must celebrate. I’ll come to the hospital later,” I replied.
About three hours after the call, I visited Sarah’s hospital room.
“Look, Mom, it’s our long-awaited son. Isn’t he cute?” Timothy said excitedly as soon as I entered the room, holding up his newborn son. He and Sarah exchanged glances, smiling happily at each other.
You won’t be smiling for long, I thought to myself. When I asked them about Olivia’s funeral, their expressions changed instantly.
“Oh, we’re busy with the new baby, so we decided to just cremate her without a funeral. We’ll let you know when it’s all done,” Timothy answered dismissively, as if it were a bothersome task.
Now, it’s time for their punishment to begin. I gave a signal behind my back, and Olivia ran towards the newborn baby.
“Wow, he’s so cute! This is my little brother, right?”
Seeing this, my son and his wife were visibly shocked, looking back and forth between Olivia and me.
“Oh my, Olivia!” I pretended to be surprised by her appearance.
“You opened the coffin! Didn’t I tell you not to?” Timothy confronted me, his tone harsh.
I glared back at him. “How could you chain her up and lock her in a coffin? That’s despicable!”
“Huh? That’s none of your business, is it?”
I explained how I discovered Olivia when I opened the coffin lid. Olivia’s mouth was covered with cloth, but it had slipped a bit, allowing her to call for help. “Just imagine how scared Olivia must have been, unable to move in that dark box.”
As I started to say this, my son suddenly hugged Olivia tightly. “You came back to life! That’s great, isn’t it, Sarah?”
“Yes, it really is!”
They were putting on an exaggerated act, thinking they could fool me.
“Olivia, can you tell me why you were in that box?” I asked my granddaughter with a gentle smile.
“Well, Daddy and Mommy wrapped me up tight. Then they said a devil was coming, so I had to wait there,” Olivia explained, stumbling over her words but trying her best.
“She’s saying this, but can you explain what it means?” I asked.
Timothy had lost his earlier bravado and became less talkative. Not wanting Olivia to see me corner her parents, I beckoned her and said, “I need to have an important talk with your parents now. Can you wait in the hallway with my friend?”
“Okay, I understand,” she replied. I had asked a friend to come along and help me with this situation.
After confirming that Olivia had left the room, I slowly turned to face Timothy and Sarah. “Now, I need you to explain everything clearly,” I said.
Unable to withstand my piercing gaze, they quickly averted their eyes. “You can’t believe what a child says! That’s right, she’s only three years old. Her memory can’t be trusted!”
They desperately tried to deny their actions, refusing to admit what they had done. I took out a notebook from my bag and held it out to them.
“But what’s written here is true, isn’t it?”
Timothy’s voice cracked as he asked, “How did you…?”
Chapter 4: Evidence of Cruelty
This notebook contained details of their plan.
“Shall I read it aloud? ‘The funeral is fake, meant to deceive Mom.’” Further down, it was written that if Olivia died, they expected to receive financial aid for funeral expenses. I had found this while searching their room after they had rushed to the hospital when Sarah went into labor. It’s the worst to snoop around someone else’s house, but…
“That’s just notes I took about an interesting mystery drama I saw on TV the other day!” my son declared boldly, snatching the notebook from me. He looked triumphant, but of course, this wasn’t the end.
“Then what about this?” I said, pulling out another document from my bag and thrusting it at Timothy.
“What’s this all about?” he demanded.
It was Olivia’s medical report. When I rescued Olivia and hugged her, she winced in pain, saying, “It hurts.” When I lifted her clothes to check, I saw several bruises on her body. Suspecting my son and daughter-in-law of mistreating her, I immediately took her to the hospital. The doctor told me, “This child has been regularly subjected to physical abuse, and her nutritional state is poor. Is she not being fed properly?” He then provided me with this medical report.
“So that’s why Olivia devoured the food so eagerly when I brought some to your house before,” I said.
They kept their heads down, not answering.
“What’s going on? Why are you doing this?” I pressed further.
At first, my son wouldn’t even meet my eyes, but then he sat down in a chair, manspreading. “We wanted a boy, but she was born a girl. That’s the problem,” he blurted out.
“That’s… Children are precious gifts!” I said.
“No way. Girls are useless, aren’t they?” Timothy started talking non-stop, as if he had given up trying to hide anything. He explained that once they found out their second child was a boy, they decided they no longer needed Olivia. However, they thought it would be suspicious if she suddenly disappeared, so they came up with the plan to pretend she was sick and eventually claim she had died.
“Well, we haven’t been feeding her properly lately, so we thought she’d eventually just weaken and die on her own,” my son said this with a smirk, casually admitting to such a terrible thing without any hesitation.
There was one thing I couldn’t understand. “Even though you say that, you didn’t actually kill her. Isn’t that because, deep down, as parents, you truly love Olivia?” I asked.
Timothy and Sarah looked at each other, then burst out laughing.
“Love? There’s no such thing. If she died, we’d lose the child support payments, and our income would decrease, right?”
“That’s right. The only one we want to love is this son,” Sarah said, lovingly stroking the baby’s head she was holding.
At that moment, I realized my anger had reached its peak. “If that’s the case, there was no need to chain her up and put her in a coffin!” I shouted, suppressing the urge to slap them both. However, my anger didn’t seem to affect them at all.
“But that wouldn’t create the right atmosphere, you know? Besides, kids can do unexpected things, so we thought it would be safer to keep her restrained and locked in the coffin,” my son said matter-of-factly. My body trembled with rage at his nonchalant attitude.
“Also, you always come to our house and dote on Olivia, so we were worried she might tell you what we’ve been doing to her someday,” Timothy continued.
“So that’s why you pretended Olivia was dead? You thought I wouldn’t come around anymore?” I asked.
“Bingo!” Timothy said with a grin. “Now that we have our boy, you can have Olivia if you want her,” he added.
“That’s right. We don’t need her anymore, so do whatever you like with her,” Sarah chimed in.
They were treating Olivia like an object, and worse, they seemed to be enjoying it. Before I knew it, I had grabbed my son by the collar.
“Want to fight? I won’t go easy on you just because you’re my mother,” Timothy said provocatively.
But I realized that if I gave into this, I’d be no better than them. So I let go of my son and glared at them both. “I’ll raise Olivia and your newborn son myself,” I declared.
“What? Are you crazy? We’re not giving up our son! No way!” they shouted angrily.
It was time to deliver the final blow of my punishment.
Chapter 5: Justice Served
“I’ve already reported this incident to the police and Child Protective Services. You should be prepared for how the authorities will judge parents who abuse their children,” I said.
As soon as I said this, Sarah grabbed Timothy’s arm and kept shaking it, pleading, “What are we going to do?” over and over. But Timothy just stood there dumbfounded, unable to answer.
“I think the police might be arriving here soon,” I added.
“Wait a minute… what if they really take our son away? What should we do?” Timothy asked.
“That’s not my problem. You brought this on yourselves,” I replied coldly. “We’ll take good care of Olivia from now on.”
“So please tell them your report was a mistake!” they begged, bowing their heads to me.
“As if I could believe that,” I said, pushing them away. They muttered, “What should we do?” and slumped down where they stood.
After that, Timothy and Sarah were arrested, and the children were temporarily placed in protective custody. The incident was widely reported in the news and weekly magazines, with my son and daughter-in-law’s names and faces exposed. Even after they’re released from prison, they’ll likely live the rest of their lives being pointed at and whispered about.
As for me, I ended up taking in and raising both grandchildren. With another precious little one added to my life, I can’t stop smiling. My friends tell me, “You look so youthful these days.” Perhaps it’s because I have a new purpose in life. I’m not entirely displeased with the compliment. Olivia is a great help around the house, and I’m truly grateful for her. I’m determined to stay healthy and energetic so I can watch my grandchildren grow up. That’s what I’m focusing on now.
