Chapter 3
Three days after I died, Olivia was in the garden, pruning roses.
She wore a pure white dress and lace gloves, looking like a flawless fairy straight out of a fairy tale.
"Mom, why hasn't Emily come out for days?" Olivia asked.
She set down her scissors and walked to the porch, snuggling into Mom's arms.
"Is she still madding at me? Maybe I really remember the necklace thing wrong. I shouldn't have let her get caught in the rain," Olivia said.
Mom stroked Olivia's hair.
"Don't even mention that downer. It's better if she stays in the shed. At least she won't embarrass us. If she'd come out looking like that when your dad brought his business partners over, the Carter family would be totally embarrassed," Mom said.
James came home from the office, carrying Olivia's favorite mousse cake.
"She's still in the shed? She's really toughing it out," he said.
He took a sip of coffee, his tone completely indifferent.
"She's probably just playing the victim again, trying to make us feel sorry for her. People who've spent too much time in the sticks always have tricks," he added.
Dad walked out of the study, frowning.
"Go get her out. There's a charity gala tonight. We can't take her, but at least make her wash off that awful smell. I don't want her messing up the shed," he said.
James put down the cake and reluctantly headed to the backyard.
"I'll handle it. Olive, stay here with Mom. Don't let that stink bother you," he said.
I drifted behind James.
As he passed the dog bowl, he kicked it aside in disgust.
The leftover roast beef I hadn't finished was still inside it. It had already gone moldy and grown green fuzz.
He marched up to the shed door and slammed his fist against it.
"Emily, get your ass out here! Quit pretending to be dead. Nobody's buying it," James barked.
There was no sound from inside the room.
James quickly lost patience. He kicked the rickety wooden door open.
"I told you to—"
But the words died in his throat.
A strange, indescribable smell filled the room, like old rust.
My body lay on the straw mat, flies buzzing overhead.
Sunlight streamed through the broken window, falling on my bruised and battered face.
James stood in the doorway, frozen, gripping the doorframe tightly.
He looked at my hand, hanging limply on the floor.
It was covered in old scars. The nails were broken and uneven, with dried blood still in spots.
"Emily?" he called out tentatively, his voice shaky.
He stepped forward, his leather shoes rustling against the dry straw.
At that moment, Olivia and Mom showed up.
"Why isn't she out yet? James, what's taking so long?" Mom called out.
But her voice stopped short as soon as she saw inside.
Olivia hid behind Mom, her eyes wide.
She suddenly slapped a hand over her mouth, trying not to gag, her face going pale.
James finally walked over to me. He bent down and reached out to feel for my breath.
The moment his fingers touched my skin, he jerked his hand back like he'd been burned.
He stared at his fingertips, frozen.
Mom took a couple of hesitant steps forward, staring at my lifeless body.
"Emily?" she whispered.
James suddenly spun around, pale as a ghost, and rushed outside.
He knocked Mom over, bumped into Olivia, and stumbled into the middle of the yard.
Dad rushed over.
"What's going on? Why all the noise?" he demanded.
James pointed at the dark wooden door.
His hand was shaking so badly, and he could barely speak.
"Dad... Inside..." he stammered.
Just then, the phone rang.
It was the landline extension.
The butler answered, then turned to Dad with a serious face.
"Sir, it's the police. They have Miss Carter's medical report from her rescue and want her family to come in right away," the butler said.