Chapter 3

Robert perked up. "Oh, her right leg bone is missing. It might have scars or surgery marks that could help you trace her down. Her face got burned with acid. Fixing it will take time."

He sighed, peeling off his gloves. Next to him sat my bloody toy, but he failed to recognize his gift to me for protection.

After wrapping up his work, he checked his phone and got pissed off by what he saw.

He called Susan immediately.

"Did you see Emily's call? That liar is at it again, spouting junk to get under our skin," he huffed. "She still doesn't get it. If she hadn't forced James to come back, Rain Mire wouldn't have gotten him. Now she's saying she's being followed."

I wasn't lying. I was dead.

I'd never lie about such things to mess with them. I was desperate when I sent that SOS.

Unfortunately, neither of them had taken it seriously.

I heard Susan on the phone, just as pissed.

"I saw her message and ignored it," she said. "She's just dodging her duty. That kid doesn't give a damn about making things right."

I covered my ears, crushed by their rant.

Just as I thought they'd never know I was dead, my best friend, Sarah Johnson, stormed into the station. She said I'd been missing for two days.

A police officer went to take her report, but Robert stopped them. "No need. I'm Emily Miller's dad. She's not missing, just pulling this crap to guilt-trip me and her mom."

The police officer glanced at Sarah, stuck. He knew Robert's rank and backed off.

Sarah stumbled out with tears in her eyes. I wanted to chase after her, only to find my ghost was trapped there. I couldn't leave Robert's side.

He handled my skull and headed home.

Dinner was the usual: grilled salmon, spicy crab, and buttered shrimp. Susan remembered James's favorites but never cared I was allergic to seafood.

Once, Robert asked why I wasn't eating. I thought he finally gave a damn.

I gripped my fork and mumbled, "I'm allergic to seafood."

Susan slammed her fork down. "What did I do to deserve an ungrateful brat like you? I slave over this meal, and you act like I've sinned?"

I looked at Robert, my childhood hero who would shield me whenever Susan got mad. This time, he just plopped a chunk of crab on my plate.

"Eat up. Don't tick off your mom," he muttered.

Their stares pinned me down. I had to choke down the crab.

Later that night, my throat swelled up. I could barely breathe.

My eyes puffed up. My skin itched and burned. My voice was shot.

"Help..." I stumbled to the door, but it wouldn't open.

Panic hit me. I banged on it, croaking, "Help! Dad, Mom! Save me!"

Susan's voice came from the living room. She said, "It's just allergies. She won't die. Good thing we locked the door. Her tricks are annoying. James came to me in a dream last night, saying he wanted the new PlayStation. Let's go before the mall closes."

I begged them not to leave me. That would kill me.

What answered me was the door slamming shut. They ditched me.

I was devastated and resigned to fate. Maybe it wouldn't hurt that much if I died.

I curled up in a corner, waiting for the final moment. I didn't know how long it had passed when laughter came from downstairs.

"You silly goose, you know you're allergic to peanuts. You almost bought it."

"I couldn't help it. Please don't tell Mom."

"She already knows. She twisted her back, making all your favorite foods. It's fine. Parents don't hold grudges."

I felt like a sewer rat, sneaking peeks at the happiness I never had. I was ashamed but had nowhere to hide.

I wanted Robert and Susan to love me, to care about my allergies, to cook my favorites, and to nag me with love. But I was just the rotten kid who killed James.

I didn't deserve it. Still, I didn't want to die.