Chapter 2

I did not know how much time passed. It felt as though I was finally pulling myself free from a long, endless nightmare. The burning pain that had consumed my body was gone.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized I was standing lightly in the middle of the living room, as if I weighed nothing at all.

In the kitchen, the large oven had gone silent.

There were only a few small, grimy handprints smudged across the glass door.

I tilted my head and leaned closer, peering through the oven window. Inside, a blackened mass lay perfectly still.

Was that me?

Just then, I heard the sound of a key turning in the door. My parents were back from the hospital, carrying my little sister in their arms.

Instinctively, I rushed toward them, but my body passed straight through their arms. I could not touch them at all.

They also could not see me.

Carefully, they laid my sister into the cradle in the living room. Only after her breathing settled did my mom finally press a hand to her chest, still shaken.

"Thank goodness Tanya is fine," she said. "If something had happened to her, I would never have forgiven that girl."

My dad watched her carefully and spoke in a cautious, gentle voice.

"Yanne made a mistake. I'll make her apologize to you. For now, let's let her out.

"She's still a child. Don't lock her up for too long."

My mom stood there, her body stiff as stone.

She stared at the kitchen door, lips pressed tightly together.

I knew she was still angry at me.

'But Mom, I'm already dead. Dead children can't open oven doors and come out to say they're sorry.'

Seeing that my mom did not move, my dad let out a long sigh. He reached for the kitchen door handle and spoke softly toward the inside.

"Yanne? Daddy's little princess? Come out. Don't be afraid. Daddy's here."

The only answer was a dead silence.

My dad frowned and slowly turned the handle.

The door opened a crack.

An indescribable smell rushed out through the gap.

It was the stench of a body burned for too long at high heat and then left sealed in an enclosed space to rot and decay.

My dad's face changed instantly.

My mom rushed over as well, irritation still written across her face at his decision to open the door.

"Johnson, don't interfere. I want to see how long she can…" Her voice cut off abruptly.

She had smelled it, too.

Her gaze locked onto the oven.

A thick, murky yellow liquid was seeping out through the crack in the door.

It was what remained of me, melted by extreme heat.

I thought my mom would be afraid, that she would be shocked, and that she would finally realize something was wrong.

However, she did not.

After a brief moment of confusion, her expression was swallowed by overwhelming rage. She pointed at the filthy puddle, her body trembling with fury.

"Yanne! I told you to reflect in there, and you…you actually went to the bathroom inside just to disgust me?!

"How can you be so filthy, so shameless?!"

'No. That's not it, Mom.'

I ran around her desperately, trying to explain, even though I knew it was useless.

'Mom, I didn't want to disgust you. I'm just dead.'

I wanted to tell her the truth, but she could not hear a single word.

Looking at her twisted expression, grievance and despair flooded over me like a rising tide.

Even my death was filthy in my mom's eyes.

She turned and walked away.

My dad sighed and closed the kitchen door.

Boundless bitterness soaked into my soul like ice water.

'I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to make you angry.'

However, no matter how many times a dead child apologized, their mother would never hear it.

I followed my dad as he walked to my bedroom door and knocked gently.

"Yanne, you've been too naughty this time. How can you upset your mom like this?

"Come out and apologize to her. Then we'll put this behind us."