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My Ghost Came Home To Their Lies

My Ghost Came Home To Their Lies

Histoires courtes · Romance
Par:  CocojamComplété
Langue: English
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9Chapitres
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Synopsis

After Death

Regret

Familial Bond

Bias

Karma

My twin sister Claire and I have been at war our whole lives. A box of M&Ms? We’d count each one. Making sure we each got the exact same number of each color. Choosing bedrooms meant a tape measure. No one could have an inch more. When we were eight, Claire locked me in the basement. She tore apart my favorite American Girl doll. When I finally got out, I could only cry and gather the pieces. But she just threw herself on the carpet. Screamed that I pushed her. Dad drove out in a blizzard to buy me a new doll. He got into a bad car accident. He never came back. Our whole world fell apart. Mom said we were broke. She couldn't afford to keep both of us. She agreed to let Aunt Susan take one. I killed Dad. It was my fault. I couldn't let Claire leave Mom, too. So Aunt Susan took me. And she never treated me like I was human. From then on, I woke up shivering in a freezing attic. No heat. Forced to shovel snow, scrub hardwood floors. Like a maid. When I got older, to pay off her Vegas gambling debts, my aunt took all my IDs. She sold me off. Gave me to the trailer park manager's son. A drunk. A gambling addict. At twenty-two, I got pregnant. No health insurance. He watched me writhe in pain, but he wouldn't spend the money to call an ambulance. I died on the way to the ER. I died, but I didn't move on. My ghost drifted back home. And I saw the impossible. Dad was alive. He, Mom, and Claire were in the lavish backyard. Celebrating Claire’s graduation from an Ivy League school. Mom paused while cutting the cake. “I wonder how Chloe is doing,” she said. “We tricked her into leaving. I just worry all the time.” Dad pulled up a photo from Aunt Susan on his phone. “Don't worry,” he said. “She and Claire fought too fiercely back then. Sending her away and separating them was for her own good. Look, Susan gets our thousand dollars a month. She's taking great care of her.” So that was it. My parents had teamed up to lie to me. And my aunt was lying to them with a fake photo.

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Chapitre 1

Chapter 1

Mom rushed to take the phone, zooming in on the picture.

She tried to see the sliver of the girl’s profile, and her eyes started to turn red.

“I’m afraid I’ll break down and bring her back, so I haven’t dared to fly over and see her all these years. I’m just so glad our Chloe has grown up well.”

I floated closer.

The girl in the photo had silky hair and long, delicate fingers.

She wore an expensive Chanel-style coat. A Manhattan socialite.

But that wasn't me.

My first year at my aunt's house, I shivered in a freezing attic.

Not even a thick blanket in the middle of winter.

Aunt Susan would throw cold water on me to wake me up.

Force me to my knees to scrub the floors.

My hands were raw, cracked, and bleeding from the cold.

My clothes reeked of cheap dish soap. That was me.

A sharp, dull ache suddenly hit my numb heart.

If I had been able to stay with Mom and Dad, would I have lived a carefree life like Claire, or like the girl in the picture?

At least I could have lived like a person.

Not an abused maid in an attic.

Not dead on a moldy mattress in a trailer park.

I started shaking uncontrollably.

I opened my mouth, wanting to scream that I was right here. That I wasn't okay at all.

But no sound came out.

Suddenly, Claire ran right through me and put her head on Mom's shoulder.

She stared at the photo, pouting.

“Looks like Chloe is living the high life in Paris with Aunt Susan.”

“Dad, you said you only send a thousand dollars a month. That designer coat is a six-figure piece. A thousand dollars wouldn't even buy a button. Aunt Susan must really love her like her own daughter.”

“Do you guys remember when I was little? That expensive cheerleader uniform? It got a tiny snag on a wire fence, and she got so jealous she cut a huge hole in it with scissors.”

She was still lying. Even now. She was the one who ruined that uniform, but she blamed me without a second thought.

Dad frowned, annoyed. “This is better,” he grumbled. “She was so much trouble. Just thinking about it gives me a headache.”

“Today is Claire's big day. Let's not talk about that jinx.”

Then he pointed at the girl in the picture.

“Whatever Chloe has, our Claire has to have too. I'll go to Fifth Avenue and buy you that coat tomorrow.”

Seeing them laugh, Mom wiped her tears and smiled, as if she’d already forgotten the daughter she was just talking about.
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9
Chapter 1
Mom rushed to take the phone, zooming in on the picture. She tried to see the sliver of the girl’s profile, and her eyes started to turn red.“I’m afraid I’ll break down and bring her back, so I haven’t dared to fly over and see her all these years. I’m just so glad our Chloe has grown up well.”I floated closer. The girl in the photo had silky hair and long, delicate fingers. She wore an expensive Chanel-style coat. A Manhattan socialite.But that wasn't me.My first year at my aunt's house, I shivered in a freezing attic. Not even a thick blanket in the middle of winter.Aunt Susan would throw cold water on me to wake me up. Force me to my knees to scrub the floors.My hands were raw, cracked, and bleeding from the cold. My clothes reeked of cheap dish soap. That was me.A sharp, dull ache suddenly hit my numb heart.If I had been able to stay with Mom and Dad, would I have lived a carefree life like Claire, or like the girl in the picture?At least I could have lived like a pe
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Chapter 2
She cut a large slice of cake for Claire, and Dad raised his camera to capture the moment.I remember that camera. Dad was always taking pictures of us with it.One for Claire, one for me. Always the same pose.Mom made two beautiful scrapbooks, too. One for Claire, one for me.They always said I was the troublemaker. Now, there were several scrapbooks in the cabinet. All of them were Claire’s.Life was so much easier for them without me, wasn't it?As they flipped through the photos, the ache in my heart turned into a bitter sting.There was Claire’s tenth birthday. An outdoor barbecue at a fancy country club with her friends.Pink balloons, a little tiara, a long table covered in perfect desserts.Everyone looked so happy.It’s been so long. I can’t even remember the other girls’ names.All I remember from that year was the blizzard. The attic was drafty, and Aunt Susan locked me in there to freeze.I waited for her to leave, picked the lock, and ran to the payphone at the corne
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Chapter 3
My nose stung. What about the promise? The necklace was supposed to be mine.In that moment, it was like Mom forgot everything. Forgot her own words. Forgot she had another daughter.I had nothing. No designer wedding dress, no garden reception, no clean-cut, respectable husband.Just moldy trailer park walls and a gambling addict.And now my necklace was going to Claire, too?Just like when we were kids, I fought to get it back. I scrambled to grab it!But it was no use. My hand passed right through it, again and again.I could only watch as Claire put it on. She spun excitedly in front of the full-length mirror.I stood there, defeated. Something hot and stinging slid down my face.But… why am I crying? I'm already dead.That night, before sleeping, Mom seemed to remember something. She picked up her phone and looked at the fake Paris photo again.“Chloe, your sister is getting married. You’re all grown up now, too.”Her finger gently stroked the screen, her voice thick wit
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Chapter 4
Dad looked completely baffled, as if he’d just heard the most ridiculous joke.“What kind of crazy talk is that?”“My older daughter is getting married next month. My younger daughter is in Paris, prepping for her entrance interview at a top art school.”“Besides, would my daughter marry some low-life gambling addict?”“Just some nutcase trying to scam for money.”David chuckled and headed back to his office.“That’s what I figured. I had security kick them out.”At noon, Mom brought sandwiches to Dad’s office for lunch. She overheard the receptionists gossiping.“The nerve of some broke people these days. Dragging their whole family here, claiming to be Arthur’s son-in-law. As if Arthur would have a son-in-law like that.”The words hit Mom’s ears.For some reason, a wave of unspeakable panic washed over her.A mother's intuition made her break out in a cold sweat.She tried desperately to push the terrifying thought away. She forced Dad to call Aunt Susan right then and there, jus
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Chapter 5
“I’m telling you, you’re going to write a check today and settle this debt. And you’re taking this brat off our hands. Or I’m going to the tabloids. Let's see how the world likes this headline. Two rich, decent folks leaving their own daughter to rot and die in a trailer park like a piece of trash!”The words dropped like a bomb. They blew our perfect wedding to pieces.The string quartet stopped. The air went thick with a silence you could choke on.Martha froze. The crystal champagne flute slipped from her hand. It hit the grass with a dull thud.Her mouth hung open. The air rushed out of her lungs. Her world went blank, filled with a high-pitched ringing in her ears.I floated beside her. I watched her shoulders tremble. And I felt… a strange calm.This is what breaks her?Arthur was the first to snap out of it.His face was grim. He strode forward and shoved the man, who reeked of whiskey and cheap weed.“Get the hell out! You pieces of trash, trying to grift us for booze money!” A
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Chapter 6
The gambler didn’t give my father a chance to speak. He shoved his stinking face right up to his nose.“The check. Now. I don’t care which bank. A cashier’s check. Now.”He pointed a finger at the dirty bundle in Mrs. Miller’s arms. “And you can take the little thing.”He straightened up, sizing up the mansion with a laugh. “All this space. We’ll just move in. Me and my Ma. It’ll be cozy.”Arthur took a half-step back.He’d never been this close to white trash in his life.The smell of booze, sweat, and moldy clothes made his stomach churn.“Get out.”He roared, shoving the man with both hands.The gambler stumbled and fell onto the grass.Then he went berserk.He scrambled up. He grabbed a heavy silver tray. He hurled it at the champagne tower.Glass shattered everywhere. Expensive Dom Pérignon flowed into the grass with the flower petals.He kicked over the floral arch, ripped off tablecloths. Silverware crashed to the ground.Guests screamed and backed away. High heels sank into
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Chapter 7
Arthur lunged, grabbing a fistful of Aunt Susan’s expensive silk dress.“Where is Chloe?!” he roared, his eyes on fire, spittle flying into her face. “You tell me right now!”Susan stumbled but quickly regained her footing. She smoothed her hair, straightened her back, and snapped back.“Arthur, have you lost your mind? You’re going to believe some crazy grifters over your own sister?” She raised her voice, trying to drown out the murmurs. “I told you, Chloe is in her studio in Paris, preparing for her final critique!”Arthur’s eyes were wild. He shoved his phone into her hand.“Fine. FaceTime her. Right now. In front of everyone. Let me see her in Paris!”My aunt’s face went pale. She smacked the phone out of his hand.It tumbled onto the grass.“Are you insane? They don’t allow electronics during a final art school critique!” she shrieked.But Martha suddenly remembered something. She stumbled onto the lawn and picked up the phone.Her fingers trembled as she opened the photo album.
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Chapter 8
When Arthur learned that his own clever little trick had been the thing that pushed me into the abyss, his knees buckled. He slid onto the hard bench of the police station.He grabbed his hair with both hands. Huge, silent tears splattered onto the polished floor.Martha clutched her chest and collapsed into a chair, sobbing until she nearly passed out.My death was still under investigation. The cops locked them up for extortion and trespassing.My parents followed a police car out to the city limits. To the trailer park.The place where I had lived—or been mortgaged—for four years.The moment she stepped out of the car, Martha saw the rickety tin trailer. A choked sob escaped her lips.She was probably thinking of the fake photo, of the high-class girl in Chanel.She simply couldn't connect the daughter she thought was studying art in Paris with this foul-smelling hellhole.A cop pushed open the warped, broken door.A wall of stench hit them—mold, urine, and cheap weed.The tiny s
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Chapter 9
Claire snatched the cheap plastic box from Arthur’s hands as if it were her mortal enemy.She slammed it onto the hardwood floor.The plastic shattered. A cloud of grayish-white powder exploded into the air.“You’re insane!” Martha screamed.Claire, still in her high heels, began to stomp frantically on the ashes.Martha threw herself onto the floor of broken glass, trying to shield the dust with her body.Claire was completely unhinged. The sharp heel of her shoe slammed into her mother’s back. Again and again.The empty look in Arthur’s eyes instantly filled with rage.He yanked his older daughter away and slapped her hard across the face.“Get out of this house!” he roared, pointing at the door.Claire clutched her burning cheek. Pure hate filled her eyes.She pointed at the dust on the floor. Her shrill voice cut through the hall.“Like you get to be the loving parents now! Weren't you the ones who faked her death and threw her away because she was too much trouble?”“You killed h
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