Chapter 3

I heard two sets of footsteps shuffle around outside as Dad and Erik adjusted their positions. I also heard them draw deep breaths.

Another bang. Another hard shove against the door, which caved under impact. A crack sounded through the air as the wood splintered.

Terrified, I curled into a ball. The most painful memories buried deep in my soul swarmed over my head, drowning me. Breathing became difficult.

It was the eve of Independence Day.

In an attempt to show our family's united front, Dad held a barbecue specially for the occasion. Grease from the meat skewers dripped over crackling flames and red-hot charcoal, the heat rising from the pit carrying with it a mouthwatering, smoky scent.

Our relatives sat huddled around the barbecue pit as if it were a camping event. Everyone was beaming and laughing.

Erik perched beside me, diligently turning the skewers for Dad and addressing him with just the right amount of respect.

Dad ate it up.

"Erik's working on quite a forward-looking project in our company this year," Dad praised Erik's visionary work in front of our relatives.

I lowered my head and poked a piece of meat with a skewer.

Suddenly, I felt something icy being fished out from under my shirt collar. It was the silver necklace, the only thing Mom left behind.

"What's this?" Erik pinched the small crescent moon pendant between his fingers. "It's already black with oxidation. Why are you still wearing it?"

I tried to snatch it. "Give it back!"

Erik raised his arm so that the necklace was out of my reach. He dangled it before Dad. "See what Andrea's got, Dad. She's still holding on to useless things like this necklace. Didn't you say that improvement comes to those who can part with things?"

Dad's gaze lingered on the necklace for only a second. He said nothing, only picked up a large piece of meat from the grill, still dripping with grease, and set it on Erik's plate. "Here. Eat up."

Only then did he take the necklace from Erik. He didn't so much as look at it.

"Trash." Dad flicked his wrist, and the delicate silver necklace and its tiny crescent moon pendant drew an arc through the air, landing on the burning-hot grill.

A hush settled around us.

I watched as the silver necklace gradually discolored above the embers of the crackling charcoal, surrounded by smoke and grease. It wasn't long before the silver crescent moon turned black.

No one spoke up for me. The relatives acted like they hadn't seen this turn of events.

Erik even smiled as he speared the piece of meat Dad had put on his plate. He blew on it to cool it, then popped it into his mouth. His words came out muffled as he spoke around the chewed-up meat. "Thank you, Dad."

Dad turned a skewer on the grill. "Eat your food."

I stared at the food smoking on the grill. I wasn't hungry anymore.

What was left of Mom was left to blacken among the scraps of food on the grill. It was just as well, I supposed, that the necklace went before me.

With a final bang, the door caved open, and splinters flew everywhere. The door hadn't been shoved open as much as it had imploded. Its frame hung crookedly off the wall.

Dad had shouldered the door open, and the momentum made him stagger as he barged into the room. Erik, equally winded, trailed after him.

But they both stopped short.

There was none of the mess and resistance they'd expected to be waiting for them in the room. On the contrary, everything was too organized.

The books had been stacked neatly on the desk. The chair had been put away under the desk, too, and the curtains were open halfway. The afternoon sun spilled through the window at a slanted angle, illuminating a single spot on the floor.

I lay quietly on the bed, wearing my favorite white dress.

I was completely silent.

Erik's breath grew shallow and erratic. Frowning, he hurried over to the bed. "What's playing dead going to do for you? Get up already…"

His words died on his tongue. He reached for my arm to pull me out of bed, but drew his hand back the moment his fingertips grazed my skin.

Such was not the temperature of a living person.

Erik stared at me, then slowly and stiffly turned his gaze to my nightstand. On it was a bottle of sleeping pills, already emptied. My phone lay next to it, its screen still bright.

The familiar interface of the Family app was on display. My total score was last recorded at a negative figure in red, and my name ranked lowest on the scoreboard. The blue icon was facing the entire room.

Erik's face went from an angry shade of red to deathly white. He parted his lips to say something but couldn't seem to find his voice. A dry croak escaped his throat.

He backed away, only to knock over the chair by the bed after his knees caved in. He fell in a heap.

Dad froze at the door. Rage had been churning in his chest when he shoved the door open. The excuses he'd prepared and the show of fatherly love he was about to put on for the relatives popped like bubbles alongside Erik's wordless response.

He looked past Erik's limp figure on the ground toward me, then noted the empty prescription bottle on my nightstand. At last, his gaze fixed on my still-bright phone screen.

The admonishment and humiliation he'd prepared for me were now pointless.

Meanwhile, the relatives in the chapel downstairs finally sensed the odd silence above them. Their frenzied whispering ended. Someone couldn't keep their curiosity at bay any longer and stood up, craning their neck to peer up the stairwell.

Dad still stood at the door, unmoving.

The judgment he'd readied for me had started. Only now, he was the subject.