She was a stranger to this place. Her blond hair was done up in sloppy pigtails, obviously done up by herself. Though she was wearing a beautiful, white lacy dress, there was a mustard stain down the front. Her face was dirty, her face sticky with drying tear tracks.
Everything she remembered was different, was bad. But as this little girl stood in the doorway, she knew she had to compose herself.
Her family was eating dinner. But this innocent little child was unwanted, a stranger among her own flesh and blood. As she wandered in the room, it became more obvious that she wasn't welcome here. She inched towards the table and no one looked up. Her Lion King place mat had been moved, and there wasn't a plate or glass out for her.

She looked up at her father in confusion, but he continued to shovel food into his mouth as though she weren't even there. Though his hands were ruddy, leathery, and lifelike, he seemed more like a robot than a real person. A shadow of the father she knew.
Her mother took no notice of her, either. She picked at her food, nibbling a bite of garlic bread here and there. Her head was bowed, and her stringy blond hair falling into her face like a curtain. Her actions were more human, but watching her just made the little girl sad.
The place was so quiet! The girl had no siblings. She had no name that she could remember.

You see, when you're dead, you tend to forget things.
Dead... she was dead. As this became more and more aparent to the girl, she began to drift away; she looked down and could see the linoleum right through her once-shiny mary janes. "I'm dead..." She said, in a voice that was barely audible to herself.

Her parents heard her comment, they snapped their heads up in a rough, inhuman motionm their necks hanging at awkward angles. They started laughing, blood oozing out of wounds that she hadn't even noticed before.
There was blood all over the kitchen floor, and all over her evanescent dress. Why hadn't she seen it before?
They were dead, too!

Looking down, she discovered a large butcher knife enclosed in her chubby white hand. The bodies of her parents were lying at her feet, she'd been staring at their spirits all along!
They closed in on her, the laughing shattering the walls; shattering the world!
She'd done this to them, and she would pay for it.