Chapter 3

My consciousness felt like a single feather drifting in the breeze—weightless and free. I "saw" my body still lying there on the bed, exactly as I had left it, my face finally wearing a look of peaceful relief. The sun was still shining on me, but that face would never feel the warmth again.

I was dead.

The realization settled in clearly, devoid of fear or sorrow. All I felt was a peace I had never known before. I began to drift upward, passing through the ceiling and into the living room.

The house was empty now, though it still held the fading embers of the day's excitement. There were half-finished drinks on the coffee table from the guests, and Sophie's discarded clothes were draped over the sofa. It felt like a movie that had been put on pause, just waiting for the lead actors to return and resume their happy lives.

Time ticked by. I watched the sky outside turn from gold to amber until the world was finally swallowed by the night. I didn't know why I was still lingering here. Maybe, deep down, I just wanted to see them one last time.

Late that night, the sound of a car engine cutting out drifted up from below. Then came the rattle of keys in the lock, followed by my mother's voice—hushed, yet still bursting with pride. "Gosh, I'm wiped out. But we really held our heads high today. The Walkers couldn't have been more impressed with Sophie."

My father chimed in, his words a bit slurred from the drinks. "Well, look who her father is."

Sophie added, her voice a mix of exhaustion and her usual playfulness. "Dad, Mom, stop flattering me. By the way, where's Emily? She hasn't poked her head out all day, has she?"

My mother's tone turned ice-cold in a heartbeat. "Don't even bring her up. That wet blanket... I swear she's just trying to rain on our parade. Just you wait, I'm going up there to give her a piece of my mind. All she knows how to do is play dead."

I hovered in the air, watching coldly as she marched toward my room in her high heels, fuming. She didn't even bother to knock; she just grabbed the handle and twisted.

The room was pitch black, save for a sliver of moonlight filtering through the window, tracing the still silhouette on the bed.

"Emily!" my mother barked, her voice sharp and biting. "How long are you going to keep up this act? Huh? The whole family is over the moon for Sophie, and here you are sulking in the dark. What are you trying to pull?"

She strode over to the bedside. When I didn't move, her temper flared even more. "I'm talking to you. Are you deaf? Lost your tongue?"

She reached out and gave my shoulder a hard shove. I still didn't react. "Fine then, Emily. Think you're clever, do you? You think you can play games with me?"

With that familiar look of sheer annoyance, she leaned over, intending to drag me out of bed. "Have you had your fun yet? Have you no shame?"

She was convinced I was just faking sleep—trying to make a point about how everyone in the family ignored me. She even kicked the frame of the bed, muttering curses under her breath, "Get up already!"

It wasn't until she reached out to grab my arm, intending to yank me upright, that she found my skin was already cold and stiff.

In that heartbeat, she froze. The entire world seemed to grind to a halt.

I watched the fury and impatience on her face slowly turn to stone, then crack, replaced by massive, incomprehensible terror.

Her hand recoiled as if she'd been electrocuted. She stared at me, eyes wide, shocked. Trembling, she reached out again, this time to see if I was still breathing.

There was nothing but stillness.

Then, a bloodcurdling shriek tore through the silent night.