CHAPTER 2 THE WOMAN WHO KNOCKED FROM HER OWN COFFIN
CHAPTER 2: THE KNOCKING FROM THE DEAD
The funeral attendant tightened his grip.
"Ma'am, enough."
Elena's heart hammered against her ribs.
Then it happened again.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Three faint sounds.
So faint that anyone standing farther than a few feet away would have missed them completely.
But Elena heard them.
Because she was already listening.
Because ever since she'd entered the chapel, something had felt wrong.
Terribly wrong.
The room froze.
Elena's eyes widened.
"There!" she screamed.
"Did you hear that?"
Nobody answered.
The silence became unbearable.
Mark's face twisted with anger.
"This is insane."
He turned toward the attendants.
"Get her out of here."
The two men moved forward.
Then—
Knock.
The sound came again.
Louder this time.
Not from the walls.
Not from the ceiling.
Not from outside.
From inside the casket.
A collective gasp swept through the chapel.
Several mourners stepped backward.
One elderly woman dropped her purse.
A child began crying.
The funeral director turned pale.
"No..."
His voice barely escaped his lips.
"No, that's impossible."
Sarah's hand flew to her mouth.
Her eyes locked on the white casket.
The same casket she had spent two days selecting.
The same casket she had kissed goodbye less than thirty minutes earlier.
The same casket that supposedly contained the body of her sister.
Emily.
Dead at twenty-eight.
Declared deceased forty-eight hours ago after a severe allergic reaction.
At least that was what everyone believed.
Knock.
Knock.
The sound came again.
This time there was no doubt.
Everyone heard it.
Everyone.
A scream erupted somewhere near the back row.
The chapel exploded into chaos.
People stood.
Others ran toward the exits.
Phones appeared everywhere.
Someone shouted for an ambulance.
Someone else yelled for police.
The funeral director stumbled forward.
His hands trembled.
"Open it."
Nobody moved.
"OPEN IT!"
The command echoed through the room.
Mark stared at the casket.
His face had lost all color.
He looked like a man watching reality collapse before his eyes.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The attendants approached.
The brass locks seemed impossibly loud as they clicked open.
One.
Two.
Three.
Sarah couldn't breathe.
Her chest felt tight.
Her knees weak.
This wasn't possible.
Emily was dead.
She had identified the body herself.
She had signed the paperwork.
She had planned the funeral.
She had chosen the flowers.
The songs.
The photographs.
Everything.
Dead people did not knock.
Dead people did not fight to get out.
The final lock opened.
Nobody moved.
For a moment, everyone simply stared.
Afraid.
Because if the impossible was waiting inside...
Then everything they believed was wrong.
The funeral director swallowed hard.
Then lifted the lid.
A collective scream tore through the chapel.
Emily's eyes were open.
Wide open.
Terrified.
Desperate.
Alive.
The young woman gasped for air as sunlight struck her face.
Her skin was pale.
Her lips dry and cracked.
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
For a second she seemed unable to understand where she was.
Then she saw the crowd.
Saw her family.
Saw the hundreds of horrified faces staring back.
"Help me..."
Her voice sounded broken.
Raw.
Almost animal.
"Please..."
Sarah collapsed to her knees.
"Oh my God."
Mark stumbled backward.
The strongest man in the room suddenly looked like he might faint.
Emily tried to sit up.
Her arms shook violently.
The confined space had left her weak.
Disoriented.
Panicked.
Elena rushed forward.
Ignoring everyone.
Ignoring the chaos.
Ignoring the questions already beginning to explode around her.
She reached into the casket.
"Easy."
Emily grabbed her hand.
Hard.
So hard it hurt.
As though Elena were the only thing anchoring her to reality.
"You heard me."
The words emerged as a whisper.
Elena felt tears burn her eyes.
"Yes."
Emily began crying.
Not softly.
Not politely.
The uncontrollable sobs of someone who had faced death and somehow returned.
The chapel erupted.
Paramedics rushed through the doors moments later.
Questions flew from every direction.
How long had she been alive?
How had this happened?
Who declared her dead?
Was it negligence?
Fraud?
Something worse?
Nobody had answers.
Not yet.
But as Emily was lifted onto a stretcher, one detail became impossible to ignore.
A detail that would soon transform this miracle into a nightmare.
Bruises.
Dark bruises around her wrists.
Around her ankles.
Bruises that had not been there before.
Bruises that suggested something horrifying.
Something nobody wanted to consider.
Emily wasn't just buried alive.
Someone might have wanted her buried.
And as the ambulance doors slammed shut, Elena noticed a man standing near the rear exit of the chapel.
Watching.
Not shocked.
Not relieved.
Not confused.
Afraid.
Very afraid.
The moment their eyes met, he turned and ran.
May you like
And Elena knew.
The real story was only beginning.
