My father died when I was four. My mother left to find work far away, and I was sent to live with my uncle.

I stayed for five years.

One afternoon, my cousin Lily Abbott and I went out to buy steamed buns. On the way, Lily spotted a hair clip at a street vendor's stall. She took two dollars from the bun money to buy it.

The moment we stepped through the door, before I could say a single word, my uncle noticed the change was short.

Two dollars. That's all it took.

His fists came down on me like a storm.

"I feed you! I clothe you! And now you steal from me?"

"Where's the money? Tell me, or I'll beat you to death!"

I was nine years old. Against a grown man's fists, I couldn't fight back. I couldn't even speak.

When he tired himself out, he dragged me into the storage room.

"You're not coming out until you tell me where that money went!"

The door slammed shut. Darkness swallowed me whole.

Blood pooled at the back of my throat. With the last of my strength, I fumbled for my phone watch and dialed my mother's number.

"Mom..." My voice came out broken. "Can you come see me?"

"I miss you."

1.

She sounded impatient.

"Didn't I tell you already? I'm busy with work. Just behave at your uncle's house and focus on your studies."

"If I don't earn money, how am I supposed to take care of you? Can't you be more understanding?"

My throat burned. "Mom, please. Please just come see me."

Silence.

It stretched so long I thought she'd hung up.

Then, finally—

"Fine."

The line went dead.

I pressed the phone watch to my chest, stroking its cracked screen as tears splashed onto the glass.

It was the only gift she'd ever given me.

I don't know how much time passed. Each breath grew heavier than the last.

The storage room door flew open. My uncle, Aunt Melissa Whitney, and Lily stood in the doorway, their figures black against the light. I couldn't make out their faces.

My uncle's voice dripped with disgust.

"What are you still lying there for? Trying to look pitiful? For who?"

"You've got some nerve. I put a roof over your head, food in your belly—and you steal from me?"

My head spun. I wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn't come.

Every month, my mother sent three thousand dollars to my uncle. My school fees and book money were paid separately, directly.

Since I was five years old—barely tall enough to reach the stove even standing on a stool—I had cooked every meal for this family. Washed every piece of clothing. I even looked after Lily, who was only a year younger than me.

And still, I was never allowed at the dinner table. I ate cold leftovers, crouched in the corner of the kitchen.

Aunt Melissa's shrill voice cut through the haze.

"Why are you even wasting your breath on her? I've told you a hundred times—she's an ungrateful little wretch."

"Look at that face. Acting like she's the victim."

"She should be thanking us. Without us, she'd have starved to death on the street."

My uncle's tone grew colder.

"Blanche Fletcher, don't you play dead with me."

"And wipe that look off your face. I'm your uncle—your mother's own brother. I could beat you to death and no one would say a word!"

Lily popped her gum, looking down at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

"Come on, Dad. Why are we even bothering with her?"

"She hasn't made dinner and I'm starving. Let's just go out to eat."

The moment Lily spoke, my uncle's face transformed. The rage melted away, replaced by doting warmth.

"Oh, my poor baby's hungry? Daddy will take you out right now. What do you want to eat?"

"What do you want to eat tonight? Fried chicken or something Western?"

My uncle scooped Lily into his arms as he spoke, and he and Aunt Melissa walked out of the room without a backward glance.

Through the haze, I thought I saw Mom.

Mom, please take me with you. I don't want to stay at Uncle's house.

I don't care how hard things are, as long as I can be with you.

Those were the words I'd said to her two years ago, when she came home for the New Year.

She had stroked my forehead gently.

"Be a good girl, Blanche. Mommy's working in Eastford State. I'm still sharing a dorm with my coworkers—there's really no other way right now."

"Besides, you have school. I can't find you a good school over there."

"Just be good and stay with your uncle. Listen to what he says. Once Mommy gets a raise, I promise I'll come back for you."

I had kept my head down, watching my tears splatter against the floor in heavy drops.

After Dad died, Mom had shouldered the burden of raising me all on her own.

I knew how hard she worked. So I never dared to ask for anything more.

But Mom... I really, really miss you.

When I woke again, it was already dark.

I was startled to find that all the pain in my body had vanished.

Then I turned—and saw myself lying motionless on the floor, the phone watch still clutched in my hand.

In that moment, I understood.

I was dead.

I crouched down beside my own body.

My eyes were still open, empty and staring. A pool of dark red had spread beneath my lips, seeping into the floorboards.

Even I found the sight terrifying.

Through the fog in my mind, I remembered the last phone call I'd made to Mom. Her answer.

"Okay."

I didn't have time to mourn my own death. I rushed to the front door.

Mom said she would come. I had to wait for her here.

I waited at the door for what felt like forever. But the first figures I saw were my uncle and his family.

Lily was nestled happily in his arms.

"Daddy, that burger was so yummy! Can we go again next time?"

His face was soft with affection.

"Of course, of course. Whenever my little princess wants to go, we'll go."

I didn't want to pay them any attention. All I wanted was to wait for Mom.

But I realized that ever since they came home, my body had been following them against my will—as if I were tethered to them.

The moment they stepped through the door, Aunt Melissa smiled and took Lily from him.

"Alright, little piggy, it's late. Mommy's going to give you a bath."

"We'll get our precious girl all nice and clean."

Watching the adoration on her face, my tears fell before I could stop them—heavy, uncontrollable.

Even though Mom sent money for my living expenses, to them, I had always been nothing but a burden.

My uncle and aunt weren't kind people. They beat me, screamed at me—that was just how it was. But every ounce of love they had, they poured into Lily.

I was so jealous.

So, so jealous.

I quietly wiped the tears from my face.

So even the dead can cry.

Aunt Melissa carried Lily into the bathroom and spotted the dirty clothes still sitting in the wash basin.

The warmth on her face vanished instantly.

"That little brat. She really thinks she's something now."

She set Lily down, then turned toward the storage room and screamed.

"Blanche! You think you can throw a tantrum now? Your uncle only hit you a few times! Is that really such a big deal?"

"Nine years old with an attitude like this—what's going to become of you?"

"I tell you to wash a few clothes and you leave them sitting here? What, do I owe you something?"

My uncle had just sat down on the couch and was about to light a cigarette. Hearing the shouting, he immediately stood and walked toward the bathroom.

Seeing her husband approach, Melissa snatched the dirty clothes from the basin and hurled them to the floor, one piece at a time.

"There! Look at this—your precious little niece!"

"She steals money from us, you give her a few smacks, and suddenly she's too good to do her chores? Leaving these filthy clothes here for who to deal with?"

"I'm telling you right now—get rid of her. Ship her off somewhere. If she corrupts our daughter, don't come crying to me!"

Raymond's gaze locked onto the heap of soiled laundry. His eyes darkened until they seemed to swallow the light.

Without a word, he turned and strode toward the storage room. His foot connected with the door, sending it crashing inward.

"Blanche! You must have a death wish—"

His voice died the instant he saw my body.

"What... what is this?"

A tremor crept into his words, barely perceptible.

He crouched down beside my corpse. His hand hovered in the air above me, wanting to touch, not daring to.

I stood nearby, watching the color drain from his face.

You beat me to death, Uncle. Why are you the one who's afraid?

When no sounds came from the storage room, Melissa's patience frayed.

"Raymond, what are you doing in there? Can't even handle a little girl anymore?"

"Is she asleep? Wake her up. These clothes aren't going to wash themselves."

"If she thinks she can skip her chores, I'll show her—"

She marched toward the storage room as she spoke.

Raymond remained crouched beside my body, blocking her view.

"Why are you just squatting there? Move. Tell Blanche to get the laundry done."

He turned his head slowly. Terror was written across every feature.

"She's... she's dead."

Melissa's irritation peaked. She stepped forward to shove him aside.

"Dead? Have you lost your mind? What nonsense are you—"

Her movement froze the moment she saw me.

They stared at each other, reading the same fear reflected back.

After what felt like an eternity, Melissa forced the words out.

"What... what happened?"

Raymond's legs gave out. He collapsed onto the floor, hands clawing at his hair in despair.

"How should I know? You're asking me?"

"It's not like this was the first time I hit her. How was I supposed to know she'd actually die?"

"Goddamn rotten luck. This jinx—steals my money, and now she's dead just to spite me."

Something snapped Melissa back to reality. She dropped to her knees and beat her fists against his shoulders, tears streaming down her face.

"How could you? Don't you know when to stop?"

"The child is dead now—what do we do? When her mother finds out, she'll tear us apart!"

Raymond's grip on his hair tightened.

"How the hell should I know what to do? You're the one who told me to teach her a lesson!"

"Now you want to ask what we do? Where were you when it mattered? Why didn't you stop me then?"

In the bathroom, Lily had been waiting. When her mother didn't return, she wandered out to the living room and headed toward the storage room.

"Daddy? Mommy? What are you talking about?"

"Weren't you going to give me my bath?"

At the sound of their daughter's voice, Raymond and Melissa exchanged a glance. They composed themselves instantly and stepped out of the storage room.

To keep Lily from seeing my mangled body, Raymond pulled the door shut behind him.

Melissa hurried to rearrange her expression, forcing a thin smile onto her face.