I woke up inside my own coffin, unable to move, convinced it was all a nightmare, until I heard my husband say, “Don’t open it. We already said our goodbyes.” There were only three of us by the grave, and no one knew I was still alive. When the gravedigger heard a knock from beneath the lid, I stayed silent… because I had just realized why my husband was in such a hurry to bury me.
PART 1
“Don’t open the coffin. We already said our goodbyes to her. Cover it with dirt and let’s get this over with.”When I heard my husband’s voice, I realized I wasn’t dead.
The worst part was that he wanted me to be.
My name is Samantha. I’m thirty-six years old, and until that morning, I believed I knew the man I had shared nearly nine years of marriage with. I woke up in absolute darkness, lying on a rigid surface, with my hands placed over my chest and a sweet, suffocating smell of trapped flowers.
I tried to open my eyes.
Nothing.
I tried to move a finger.
Nothing.
I tried to scream.
I couldn’t even make a sound.
All I could do was think and breathe with enormous difficulty.
Then the vehicle carrying me stopped, and I realized something that chilled me to the bone: I was inside a coffin.
My last memories came back in fragments. The night before, I had dinner at our home in San Diego with my husband, Christopher. Our longtime friend, Pamela, had supposedly stopped by to drop off some documents. After dinner, I started feeling strange. I remember Christopher catching me when my legs gave out.
“Rest, honey. Something you ate probably didn’t agree with you.”
Then, nothing.
Until that coffin.
When they finally stopped moving me, I heard footsteps and two familiar voices.
Christopher.
And Pamela.
I felt relieved for a few seconds. I thought they would open the lid, realize I was still alive, and everything would be over.
But Pamela laughed.
“Finally. Once they bury her, we can stop pretending.”
“And we can enjoy what her father left her,” Christopher replied. “I put up with too many years for this.”
In that instant, I understood.
My father had died two years earlier and left me properties, investments, and a house in La Jolla that were exclusively in my name. Christopher always said money didn’t matter to him.
Now I knew exactly how much his words were worth.
An older man approached.
“Isn’t any more family coming?”
“No,” Christopher answered.
“And don’t you want to open the coffin so you can say goodbye?”
Inside, I screamed with all my strength.
Yes!
Open it!
I’m alive!
But Christopher replied:
“There’s no need. We’ve suffered enough. Just bury her.”
I heard them walk away.
No tears.
No prayers.
No goodbye.
Only the footsteps of my husband leaving with my best friend.
Then I heard something else.
A dog.
First, it sniffed around. Then it began to whimper. Its paws scratched at the wood.
“Barnaby, stop that,” the older man said. “Come here.”
The dog didn’t obey.
The workers began lowering the coffin.
I felt it moving.
Then, a dull thud.
It had reached the bottom of the grave.
Panic overwhelmed me.
I thought of my deceased mother. My father. All the friends who probably didn’t even know I was supposedly dead.
Christopher had arranged my funeral so quickly that no one would have a chance to question anything.
Then the first handful of dirt landed on the lid.
The sound was small.
But I will never forget how it sounded.
Then another.
And another.
Barnaby began barking desperately.
The man tried to pull him away, but the dog jumped into the grave and started scratching at the lid furiously.
I gathered what little strength was returning to my body.
I moved one finger.
Then my hand.
I knocked once from inside.
Very weakly.
The barking stopped.
“What was that?” the gravedigger murmured.
I knocked again.
This time, he heard it too.
There were a few seconds of silence.
Then the man shouted:
“Zachary! Come back! Help me get this coffin out!”
And as hands frantically removed the dirt they had just thrown over me, I could think of only one thing:
If I survived, Christopher was going to discover that he had made the biggest mistake of his life.
And no one could yet imagine what was about to come out of that grave.
Do you want to know what happens next? Type ‘BABY’ and you’ll see the FULL Story in the c0mments
