Chapter 1

I obediently curled up and squeezed myself into the cramped suitcase.

Over the years, I'd long since gotten used to treating it as my own secret hideout. Whenever Mom had a breakdown and smashed everything off the table, Dad would shoot me a look, and I'd climb right in. I'd zip it shut and pretend I couldn't hear a thing.

Like a game of hide-and-seek, I started counting, quietly preparing to count all the way to a hundred thousand. But this time, I didn't finish like I usually did.

My limbs went stiff and numb from being twisted up for so long. My knees pressed tight against my chest, making it hard to breathe. I clawed at the gap near the zipper with my small hands, but no matter what I did, it wouldn't budge.

"All of Ellie's things are in the suitcase, right? I'll put it in the car."

Dad's voice drifted in.

Hope flared inside me. If I hurried up and apologized, maybe I could beg him to let me out.

Then, the world spun. I felt the suitcase being lifted and flipped upside down, my body hanging inverted inside it.

The suffocation hit all at once. I thrashed and banged against the walls on instinct, but they were too thick and I barely had any strength. Even the weak cries I forced out were swallowed up by my parents' voices.

"The medium said to burn everything that needs to go. The child's spirit is trapped. If you don't help her move on, she never will."

"Shut up! Isn't this all because of Landon? He's the one who killed Ellie!" Mom cut in, her voice sharp enough to slice.

"If he hadn't dragged Ellie into that stupid game of hide-and-seek, they would have at least found her body. My Ellie… There's nothing left of her…"

Her voice went hoarse toward the end. Every word was heavy with pain.

My throat clenched shut, and I couldn't make a sound anymore.

Ellie Corwin's death had been lodged inside my chest for so long it felt like part of me now.

Inside the suitcase, the air turned thick and stale. My mind grew heavier and foggier, and my consciousness started to slip.

Through the haze, I thought I saw a little girl standing far in the distance, calling out in a bright, clear voice, "Landon, let's play hide-and-seek! I'm going to go hide!"

I froze for a second, and then my knees buckled, dropping me to the ground like it was muscle memory.

"No… No more hide-and-seek… I'm sorry, Ellie. It was my fault. I'm the one who got you killed."

The apology I'd rehearsed over and over in my head every time I was shut in that suitcase still came out a jumbled mess. What I really wanted to say was that if I could, I'd trade my life for hers, just like Mom always prayed for.

When I looked up again, my soul had drifted out of the suitcase.

What stood before me wasn't the sister I dreamed of day and night. It was my mother, frozen in place. She opened her mouth numbly, like she was talking to herself.

"Do we really have to burn all of it? Her things, her clothes, the dolls I made her… I dug every last piece out of the rubble.

"It's all because of Landon. Ellie can't even rest in peace because of him. Tell me he isn't God's punishment sent down on me!"

Mom's emotions surged again, the sorrow on her face twisting into deep, raw hatred. She'd taken the medium's word as gospel and believed the dead needed a proper burial with remains intact to find peace. In her mind, it was my fault my sister could never have that.

Dad's knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. He turned his head, his face tired and creased, his eyes sunken deep. Even his voice had no strength left.

"It's been long enough. Like the medium said, Ellie needs to go where she's meant to go, and the rest of us need to keep moving forward."

He smiled, but it was bitter. "We can always have another one down the road. A family of three, living a good life together."

Dad's tone was light, but it shook something in my soul.

A family of three, and I wasn't part of it. I was the one thing my parents most wanted to be rid of, and I'd always known it. My face looked so much like my sister's, and I carried the weight of her death everywhere I went.

That was why a few days ago, I'd secretly visited several orphanages, working up the courage to ask the directors if they took in children. But now, looking down at my transparent body, I thought maybe this was better.

I was dead. My parents wouldn't have to look at me and be hurt anymore.

Maybe my guilt could even start to fade, just a little, from their hearts.