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I never understood why they did not talk to me. It was like I did not exist. I knew something was not quite right. The night I fell ill everything changed.

I fell ill in early November. I kept shivering and I had a terrible fever. I had spent several days bedridden when the doctor called round, he checked my temperature and listened to my heart. The look on his face told a thousand words, there was something terribly wrong. I do not know why it took me so long to find out.

On the 19th of December everything changed. I awoke, and for the first time in over a month I felt human, alive enough to leave my bed. I wondered why my mother was not beside my bedside as had been every day of my illness. I crept out of my bed and a wave of sadness hit me, it felt like a completely different house. Everything was cold and ghost like.

As I entered the front room I was distraught to see my father holding my mother both sobbing. I too wanted to cry but as I blinked no tears flowed out. Why had I found it impossible to cry? I wondered why my parents were in tears, it was close to Christmas, my illness had gone, surely it was a time for rejoicing not crying.

I looked around the room. There was no joy or laughter as you would expect in this the most festive of seasons. The tree was up but no ornaments hung. A roaring fire stood in the corner but the bright flames did not warm the room. It felt cold and lonely. I returned to my bedroom. I could not continue with the misery of the room.

For several days I remained in my bedroom. I did not feel like celebrating advent. During the time spent in my bedroom my mother and father did not visit me once. I thought it strange that they did not come. Maybe they thought I was still terribly ill and did not wish to see me in distress, maybe they were too busy preparing for Christmas, maybe there was another reason for it.

On Christmas Eve I decided to venture downstairs. I walked into the front room where my mother and father stood. I was happy for they were not crying. I smiled, I expected them to run over to me and hug me. I was ignored, maybe they did not notice me. I spoke, nothing, why did they ignore me?

That Christmas was the worst. That was the day I found out. I was so exited; Christmas time, my mother and father would talk to me and play with me. When I walked into the front room it was clear it was Christmas. Stockings on the fireplace, gifts under the tree. The only thing was missing was love and joy. It was Christmas day, my parents wept, there should have been joy but instead there was sorrow.
'Daddy, Daddy, why don't you talk to me?' I asked. He ignored me. Why did he always ignore me? I stood in front of him and cried. My father ignored me.
'This would have been for our Alice.' Spoke my mother. Tears trickled down her face as she picked up a small neatly wrapped pink parcel. What was she talking about? I was still here. Why was I constantly being ignored? I watched my mother unwrap the delicate box. Inside was a beautiful gold necklace with an elegant fairy hanging from the chain. My mothers sobs became louder and the pain inside me grew. I turned around unable to face my mother.

As I turned I found myself starting straight at my father. This was the moment I discovered why my parents were ignoring me. My father reached forwards as if to touch me. His hand reached strait through me and clasped his pipe on the table behind me. Those few seconds felt like a lifetime. My whole life flashed before me. I finally knew why they did not talk to me. I finally knew why they ignored me
'Daddy, daddy, I'm dead'.