3
The second my breath stopped in the freezer,
my soul was quickly pulled away, my brief life
flashing before my eyes.
It was all despair, every bit of it.
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I saw myself, eight years old, crying in my bed
after waking up from the nightmare, then as a
ten-year-old who could never fit into a normal life, as a teen cowering in a corner after Ben’s cruel words, and as a teenager with fear on my face as Ashley locked me in the supply closet. And finally, I saw the grass where I was murdered, with my work files
strewn about.
My mother and family took my belongings
the phone that the killer had collected, and
the diary they found in my apartment. I
guessed that the killer had been using the
information in my phone and diary to relive
that night.
He was even still paying my phone bill. I
wondered if the killer would think I was pitiful
now that he knew my life story. But I knew
<
he’d found something: my phone hadn’t rung
once since I’d died.
I went home with my family. The five of them
sat at the table, silent, like they were thinking,
remembering, and maybe repenting.
I sat on the couch, watching their silence.
What were they thinking about?
I looked around, thinking that only Josh was
genuinely sad for me.
I knew Josh from before he knew me. He was
the student body president in high school
handsome and smart.
—
Like other girls, I had imagined all the cute
scenarios.
<
That day Ashley locked me in the supply
closet, I pounded on the door, begging her to let me out. Finally, Josh rescued me. As I
looked at his face in the moonlight, I hated
how pitiful I felt. I didn’t even have the right to like him.
Josh asked if I was okay, but I shook my head. He walked me home, and bought me
some steamed oden at the convenience store.
The steam fogged up my eyes, and I couldn’t
see his face. All I could do was thank him.
When I got home, my mom was clearing the
table. She just looked at me and didn’t ask
why I was late, why my clothes were messy,
or why my eyes were red. She just gave me a
bowl of soup and ignored me.
<
Later, Josh and I got a little closer. In my sophomore year, I wasn’t doing great in school. But I was quiet and always kept to myself. The teacher thought I was too
introverted, so he asked Josh to tutor me. It
felt like Josh was touched by the heavens,
handsome, with amazing handwriting and a
brilliant mind.
Sometimes he brought me breakfast. He
carefully went through my homework with me,
and if we tutored too late, he’d walk me
home. I was so stuck in those tiny acts of
kindness. I kept thinking, how could there be
such a nice person?
Even when I was in hell, just seeing him gave
me the strength to keep going.
<
My sophomore year had actually been pretty
good. My stepdad wasn’t as obsessed with
me as he’d been. Ben was away at college,
and Ashley and I had a slight truce. We could
even eat at the table peacefully.
Until Ben ruined everything again.
It was the end of my junior year, before
winter break, when the school kept us late for
extra classes. It had snowed, and Josh walked
me home. I looked at our shadows under the
streetlight, unexpectedly intimate in the
orange glow.
I chatted with him, letting my teen crush get
the best of me, slowly leaning closer to him.
As I watched our shadows grow closer, I had
the illusion that he was getting closer to me
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As we said goodnight at my door, he
encouraged me to study hard and try to go to
the same college as him. I eagerly nodded. He
gently brushed the snow from my head,
saying with a smile, “I’ll be waiting for you,
Sarah.”
I waved as he went home. Turning around, I
saw Ben, standing in the shadows, having
watched us for who knew how long.
That night, I experienced pain even worse
than when I was ten. Ben, now a teenager,
knew better than my stepdad how to hurt me.
And in the end, he had me pinned down,
grabbing my hair and whispering in my ear
that I would never get rid of him.
Luckily, school let out the next day, and I was
able to pull myself together so that Josh
wouldn’t see me like that.
I was sure that my mother and Ashley knew
what happened to me, but neither of them knocked on my door. Yeah, they were all cut
from the same cloth.
Only I was different.
I looked at the faint scars on my wrist. I remember making those after I was fifteen. And what happened? I was saved, only to face even worse pain.
I thought of Josh’s smile, the way he gently brushed the snow from my head. It gave me the courage to fight.
At dinner, my mom had gone out to buy
groceries, and they were all my favorites. She’d made a huge meal.
But what was the point? I was already dead.
I watched her leave a place at the table for me, watched her meticulously clean my room, watched her stare at my pictures.
I didn’t understand why she was doing all of
this.
Was it to make up for it? To reassure herself?
I tried to knock the table over and tell her that
there was no point in putting on a show. But I
couldn’t say it, and she couldn’t hear me.
I had longed for my mother to just look at me,
to pay attention to how I was feeling, to save
my almost-shattered soul.
But she didn’t.
She was too busy living in her perfect little world, and I was just the piece of trash she was trying to hide.
I wondered in despair why I was trapped in
such a false family. Even after death, could I
not escape?
I didn’t know the answers. Maybe some
questions never get answered.
After dinner, I saw them gather in the living
room, my diary spread out on the coffee
table.
I leaned against the wall, watching my mother
cry for me. “How could you have done this to my Sarah?” I heard her say.
I watched as they started attacking each
other, word by word, but it was all about me.
My stepdad covered his face, regretting that he was such a bad father.
Yeah, you’re right. You were a master of disguise, a devil. You killed me before I even grew up. You used your foulness to pollute my soul, snuffing out my flame that summer.
Ben slapped himself, saying that he was not
human.
You’re right. You’re the bottomless pit I
couldn’t escape, the filth that ruined my life.
You used my body as a stepping stone to
<
show how superior you were. You couldn’t
stop my father’s crimes, yet you enjoyed your
own guilt, reveling in the fact that I could
never rise above it.
Ashley was crying her heart out, saying that
she didn’t know things were so bad.
No, you guessed. You’re just a coward who
was afraid to face the truth. You knew I was
a victim, but you wanted to believe your
father was still that gentle, wise, loving father,
so you blamed me for everything, using your
bullying of me to justify his actions.
My mom touched the photo, saying over and
over that she didn’t know it would be so bad,
and that if she had known, she would’ve
protected me.
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No, you knew. As the wife who slept next to
my stepdad, how could you not know?
How could you not have looked when your
bed was empty?
And if you really didn’t know, why would you
have given me and my sister our own rooms
when I was eleven?
You knew. You just didn’t do anything about
You were happy. You used me – the
daughter who should never have existed, the
–
symbol of your shame to secure your
relationship with your husband, your family,
and your comfortable life.
L
Josh just remained silent, looking pained.
I knew he regretted things.
It’s okay, Josh. You don’t need to regreť anything. In my short life, you were the knight who sliced through the darkness, offering me the most beautiful flower.
How could I blame you?
