Chapter 3

After they returned from the morgue, the house felt suffocating.

My mother locked herself in her room. She didn't eat or drink. She just sat there like her soul had slipped out of her body.

My father sat on the living room sofa, smoking one cigarette after another. In just half a day, he looked as if he had aged ten years.

Emily's eyes were swollen and red. She crept toward my father, her voice small and shaky. "Dad... Do you think... Did Mr. Thompson actually do something to her?"

"Shut up!" My father slammed his cigarette into the ashtray,…