All Chapters of The Words That Killed Me: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

By one in the morning, the tide had reached the lighthouse's second floor.The rusted iron door had been forced open by the waves, and seawater rushed into the stairwell carrying rocks and debris with it.I pushed an abandoned wooden table across the bottom of the stairs. It couldn't stop the water, but for a while, it could temporarily block the debris being swept in by the waves.When I was done, I leaned against the wall and slowly sat down. My chest was starting to hurt again. After I stopped taking medication at sixteen, I'd passed out many times.A teacher at the orphanage, Teresa Bennett, had secretly taken me to get checked out.The doctor said there was something wrong with my heart and that I needed to stay on medication long-term. Otherwise, the next time my condition flared up, I might never wake up.I refused treatment because the doctor before him had told me never to take medicine again.People later told me that the doctor had no right to make that decision for

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the Foster house.My injuries were gone. My soaked dress was dry again, and my broken leg no longer hurt.I stood in the middle of the living room and looked down at the floor. I had no shadow.Conrad carried flowers and walked straight through me. He didn't stop or look back.I followed him into the ballroom. They were setting up the birthday party that had been interrupted the night before.Mom felt Gemma had been wronged, so first thing that morning, she'd ordered fresh flowers and another cake.Dad sat on the couch making a phone call. "Freeze all the cards under Carly's name. They can be reactivated when she comes home and apologizes to Gemma."I felt my empty pockets. There was no need. I'd never used the card anyway.Nolan stood by the window and called me several times in a row. Each time he heard the message saying my phone was off, his expression grew darker."So now she's using her disappearance to threaten us. Let's see

The hallway at the medical examiner's office was cold.I followed them through two sets of doors and saw myself lying on the other side of the glass.The medical examiner had removed my bloodstained dress. A white sheet covered me to the collarbone, leaving only my pale, swollen face exposed.The moment Mom saw me clearly, her legs gave out. Dad caught her in time, but she shoved him away as though she'd been burned."That's not Carly. She has a tiny mole at the end of her left eyebrow. This person doesn't."A staff member put on gloves and wiped the remaining dirt from my brow with a cotton swab.The faint mole appeared.Mom's voice stopped abruptly. She raised a hand toward the glass, her fingertips hovering over where my face was. "How can she be so cold? She was still warm when she left home yesterday."The staff member didn't answer.Of course, a dead person couldn't stay warm forever.Nolan stared at my tightly clenched left hand. Her hand had turned pale and waterlogge

My funeral was scheduled for seven days later.Mom wouldn't let anyone put makeup on me. She said I'd suffered enough while I was alive and shouldn't have strangers touching me after I died.But she didn't know that I'd never been afraid of strangers. I was only afraid of someone treating me well, then suddenly telling me none of it had been real.On the day of the viewing, Mom chose a white dress for me. The tag was still attached to the sleeve. It was the first gift she'd bought me after I came home.Gemma had said she liked it too, so Mom told me to put it away for the time being and said I could have it once Gemma got tired of it.Later, Gemma forgot about it, and I never dared wear it.Mom's hands shook so badly she could barely hold the scissors as she cut off the tag. "Carly, I'm giving it to you now. This is yours. No one gets to take it from you."I sat beside the casket and watched her straighten the hem of my dress over and over. She'd finally admitted that some thing

A year after my death, Mom sold the Foster family home. She said a house that had no room for me didn't deserve to be called a home.Dad used the money from the sale to establish a mental health support center. He didn't name it after me.Ms. Bennett told him I'd hated being the center of attention while I was alive and wouldn't have wanted my story turned into a symbol of the Foster family's attempt at redemption.Dad listened, then quietly removed the plaque he'd already prepared. It was the first time he'd considered whether I would want something before making a decision for me, even though it was already too late.Mom moved into the small house Grandma Jo had left me. It was barely five hundred square feet, with yellowing walls and a kitchen faucet that was always leaking.There, she found records from my childhood.When I was seven, I'd collapsed while washing dishes and was taken to a clinic, where I needed three stitches.When I was twelve, I'd suffered from frostbite af