The Dead Daughter They Couldn’t Escape

Mom dragged me out of the bathroom and dumped me back onto the bed.

My soaked clothes clung to my skin, making me shiver even harder. The fever left my head so heavy that I could barely lift it. The curtains were pulled tight, leaving the room dark and airless.

From the living room, I could hear the television and my brother, Derek Cox, laughing at his favorite show.

"Derek, come eat some fruit. I cut it up for you," Mom called, her voice suddenly soft and sweet.

"Leave me alone. I want to finish this."

"That's enough TV," Dad said, though there was no real anger in his voice. "You've got a big exam tomorrow. Go get some sleep."

"How's Gemma doing?" Derek asked.

The living room fell silent.

A few seconds later, Mom snapped, "Why are you talking about her the night before your exam? Don't put that in your head! She's sick because she's taking the hit for you, and that means you'll be fine. Now go to bed and get some sleep. You need to be sharp tomorrow."

So that was all I was to them.

Someone to take the hit for Derek.

My body was freezing, but the cold spreading through my chest was worse.

I stopped fighting. Any desire I had to survive died when I realized they only cared about what my suffering could do for Derek.

I closed my eyes and felt my body grow lighter. The pain and the fever that had been tearing through me slowly drifted away, replaced by a strange, weightless calm.

Then, I began to float.

Hovering near the ceiling, I looked down and saw my body lying on the bed. My face was ghostly pale, my lips dry and cracked, and my eyes closed.

The girl below me wasn't moving. Her chest had stopped rising.

Was I dead?

Why could I still see everything, then?

I stared down at my own body, too confused to feel afraid.

When I reached for the girl on the bed, my hand passed straight through the blanket.

I went still.

A moment later, the bedroom door opened, and Mom walked in. For one hopeful second, I thought she had finally come to check on me.

Instead, she went straight to the closet without so much as glancing at the bed.

She opened the doors and started digging through my clothes. "What is that smell?"

Frowning, she covered her nose, then crossed the room and threw open the curtains.

She shoved the window up, letting a blast of cold air rush inside and pass straight through my transparent body.

Mom pulled one of Derek's old jackets from the closet, turned around, and left, slamming the door behind her.

She never looked at me.

She never noticed the cold, lifeless body lying just a few feet away.

I drifted after her into the hallway.

"Mom, why do you need my old jacket?" Derek asked as he came out of the bathroom.

"You have your exam tomorrow, remember? I'm taking your jacket to the psychic so he can do something to bring you luck."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Mom, that's not going to change my score."