Chapter 3

Daddy rushed over, his face still clouded with annoyance at Grandma for opening the door without his permission.

"Mom, leave Julian alone! I want to see just how long he can—"

Daddy abruptly stopped mid-sentence.

He caught the stench, too, his gaze locking instantly onto the large oven.

A trickle of murky, viscous yellow liquid was seeping out from under the oven door. It was the putrid fluid from my decomposing body.

I thought Daddy would panic, or at least figure out something was terribly wrong.

But he didn't.

Instead, he was stunned for just a second before his face twisted with pure fury.

Trembling with rage, he pointed at the stain and snapped, "Julian Johnson!

"Julian Johnson, I told you to stay in there and think about what you did, and you actually relieved yourself in there just to disgust me? How can you be so vile and shameless?"

No, Daddy, it wasn't like that.

I circled around him frantically, trying to explain that I hadn't tried to disgust him—I was just dead.

I wanted to tell him the truth, but he couldn't hear a word I said.

Looking at his contorted face, a wave of crushing despair washed over me.

In his eyes, even my death was something filthy.

Daddy turned on his heel and stormed off.

Grandma glanced at the oven and sighed, "Julian, you're being far too stubborn this time. How could you upset your father like this? Be a good boy, come out right now and apologize to him. Everything will be fine."

Seeing no movement from inside, Grandma shook her head and closed the kitchen door.

I stood frozen, an overwhelming wave of heartbreak drowning my soul.

I had already said I was sorry. But no matter how many times I apologized, Daddy would never hear me.

I drifted out of the kitchen behind them and saw Daddy storm straight into his bedroom.

He unlocked a drawer.

Daddy used to say that everything inside here was his most treasured possession.

He pulled it open. There were all the gifts I had made him over the years for Father's Day and his birthdays—a card with "I love you, Daddy" spelled out in glued-on flower petals; a crayon family portrait where all three of us had crooked, radiant smiles; and a bracelet I had spent hours weaving out of colorful embroidery floss.

I never knew Daddy had kept every single one of them.

But now, he began tearing up the cards and drawings like a madman.

Confetti-like scraps of paper drifted through the air, scattering across the floor.

I dropped to my knees in tears, desperately trying to scoop up the pieces and press them back together.

"Daddy, don't tear them up. I put my whole heart into making those. Now that I'm dead, I won't be able to make you anything else," I sobbed.

Without a moment's hesitation, Daddy picked up a pair of scissors and snipped the woven bracelet straight in two.

The colorful threads snapped apart, just like the bond between us.

I slumped to the floor, listening to his hysterical rant.

"Julian is just like his tramp of a mother! Neither of them is worth a damn! I only locked him up for one night, and he has the nerve to throw a tantrum and defy me. He doesn't deserve a thing. He can go rot for all I care."

I gently pressed my head against Daddy's hand, pretending he was stroking my hair.

"Daddy, I'm already dead. Surely you'd be happy if you knew."

As Daddy surveyed the mess on the floor, his eyes caught a class photo resting in the corner.

In the picture, I was standing among my classmates. Even though my face was smeared with cake, I had the happiest, brightest smile—the smile of a child who felt completely loved.

Suddenly, Daddy's phone buzzed.

My teacher, Glenda Sawyer, had posted a message in the parents' group chat.

"Next week is Julian's birthday. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, feel free to bring a cake for him to share with the class."

The chat instantly lit up.

"When Harper Gleason fell down the other day, Julian shared his strawberry cake with him. He is such a thoughtful boy."

"Yes, let's get him another strawberry cake for his birthday. All the kids love it."

The words "strawberry cake" struck a nerve.

Daddy let out a cold, bitter laugh and quickly typed out a reply.

"To all the parents, I'm Julian's father. It pains me to say this, but his mother and I are divorced—and it's all because Julian cared more about getting a strawberry cake than keeping his mother from running off with another man."

I paced back and forth in panic.

"I didn't do that! It wasn't like that!" I shouted, but he couldn't hear me.

Daddy kept typing.

"He'd trade his own mother for some food. I'm done. I can't raise a kid like this anymore."

The group chat instantly exploded in an uproar.

The same parents who had been praising me a minute ago all turned on me in a flash.

"Julian traded his mother for a cake? That's sick!"

"If he's already this selfish as a kid, I hate to see what he's like when he grows up."

Watching the accusations pile up in the group chat, I felt like thousands of needles were piercing my heart. It was a suffocating, stinging pain that cut straight through my soul.

That wasn't true. I never traded Mommy for a cake.

After putting his phone down, Daddy turned around and pulled Dustin into a tight hug.

"Dustin, don't be scared. From now on, you're the only one I'll ever love."

Seeing Dustin wrapped safely in Daddy's arms, my heart shattered into a million pieces.

Did Daddy really not want me anymore?

Dustin froze for a moment, then his panicked expression vanished, replaced by a sweet smile.

When Daddy had stormed into the kitchen earlier, Dustin had looked terrified. He must have been scared Daddy would find my body.

Seeing that Daddy hadn't discovered a thing, Dustin snuggled comfortably against his chest and rubbed his cheek against his shoulder.

"I love you forever too, Daddy."

I wrapped my arms around myself, pretending that I was the one being held.

Daddy would always love me, and I would always love him too.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, sharp and urgent.