<
One year after I died
One year after I died, I attended my sister’s
wedding.
I watched as my sister, Ashley, and her
fiancé, Josh, exchanged rings amidst the
cheers and applause.
My stepdad had his arm around my mom,
who was teary-eyed, whispering soothing
words to her. Even my usually grumpy older
brother, Ben, was sporting a rare smile.
They were still the happy, loving family I
remembered, seemingly untouched by the
tragedy of my death.
Me? I was just a ghost, a lost soul without a
body to call home.
1
After the reception, Ashley and Josh headed
to their new place, while I followed my mom
and stepdad back to their house.
Ben was driving, and my mom and stepdad
were in the back, Mom gushing about how
well Ashley had done for herself, how perfect
she and Josh were together.
Then, she chuckled, asking Ben when he was
gonna bring home a nice girl for her to
welcome into the family.
She squeezed my stepdad’s hand, adding that
her kids were always so good at making her
happy.
A hush fell over the car at her words.
were
I figured they thinking about me.
Ben’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.
He forced a smile and said, “Don’t worry,
Mom. When we get home, I’ll call Sarah and
see why she bailed on the wedding, especially
since it was such a big day for Ashley.”
My mom just sighed and nodded.
I studied their faces, looking for any sign of
guilt, any flicker of remorse.
But there was nothing.
In the year since I disappeared, no one had
wondered if something had happened to me.
L
No one had bothered to reach out, to see
where I was or what I was going through.
No one.
The only reason they were thinking of me
today was out of politeness.
More than that, they were probably just
annoyed that I was so inconsiderate for not
keeping in touch.
Ben parked and went straight to his room,
pulling out his phone to call me.
Again and again, but no one answered. He
then opened up his chat app, fired off a
message, demanding why I wasn’t picking up,
warning me that I’d never get rid of him.
Never get rid of him?
I looked at my translucent form, thinking
maybe I already had.
My stepdad knocked on Ben’s door and
asked if he’d reached me.
Ben shook his head.
My stepdad was silent for a moment. “Do you
think she might be…”
“No,” Ben snapped, stubbing out a cigarette.
“She wouldn’t dare.”
I floated over to my mom, who was staring at
a picture of me. It was a family portrait from
when I was eight.
Г
I sat in front with six-year-old Ashley. Behind
us, eleven-year-old Ben had his arms around
my mom and stepdad. Everyone was smiling.
I remember how excited I’d been that day. I’d
gotten up early to make matching pigtails for
Ashley and me.
My stepdad had kissed us both on the cheek,
telling my mom how beautiful his two little
princesses were.
I’ve wondered so many times, if I had just
thrown a tantrum or found an excuse not to
take that picture, would my life have been as
bright and warm as the sunshine that day?
My stepdad rejoined Mom, shaking his head,
and confirming that even Ben hadn’t been
able to get a hold of me.
She sighed again, changing the subject to
what she should cook for Ashley when she
came for a visit after the honeymoon.
I went to look at Ben. He was still on his
phone, repeatedly calling and texting me.
I wanted to tell him it was useless, that I
couldn’t pick up anymore, but I knew he
wouldn’t hear me, so I didn’t.
For the rest of the day, I stayed in the house,
watching them go about their normal lives, as
if checking up on me was just a random
thought.
The day Ashley came home, my mom and Ben
went to the farmer’s market early to get fresh
<
ingredients for her favorite dishes.
Ben was picking through the produce, carefully choosing the best stuff.
hovered in front of him, staring.
He was a good-looking guy, no doubt. But why were the most attractive people often the most heartless? He was smart enough to know I couldn’t just disappear, yet he refused to think for a moment that something might
have happened to me.
On the way back from the market, they ran
into my old high school friend, Carly, and her
mother. Carly and I worked in the same city,
often running into each other at the coffee
shop downstairs from our offices. She often
traveled for work, and sometimes I watched
friendly.
Ben asked Carly if she knew where I was,
saying they hadn’t been able to contact me,
that I hadn’t even made it to my own sister’s
wedding.
Carly looked surprised. “I haven’t talked to
Sarah in almost a year. Not just me, but no
one from work has been able to find her.
Didn’t you know that?”
My mom and Ben looked confused, nodding a
polite goodbye.
As they got close to the house, Ben reassured my mom, “Don’t worry. I’ll go look for her
tomorrow.”
They’d bought a ton of stuff, all of Ashley and
<
Josh’s favorite foods. As Ben was fumbling
with the keys to unlock the door, his phone
rang. I glanced at the number. I didn’t
recognize it, but the area code was from the
city where I used to work.
“Is this Ben Miller? This is Detective Reynolds
from the Cityville Police Department. We have
a suspect in a homicide case, and based on
their confession, we’ve come across
information regarding your family member,
Sarah Miller.”
99
“The suspect has given us details regarding
the crime. Would it be possible for you and
your family to come down to Cityville as soon
as you can?”
For the first time, I saw a look of panicked
helplessness on Ben’s face. His lips trembled.
L
“Mom,” he stammered, “Sarah, she…”
Ben didn’t get to finish. Ashley and Josh
arrived just then.
In my darkest moments, when I was full of self-loathing and self-harm, pacing on the edge of the roof, I had wondered if my family
would feel a shred of remorse for their
actions after I was gone.
Now, watching my silent, indifferent family on
the drive to Cityville, I knew the truth: they
wouldn’t.
I always knew my mom didn’t like me. She felt
my existence was the reason she lost her
original life.
My mom was the town beauty and hadn’t
L
even met my father before they got married.
She had been in love with another man when
my drunk father had dragged her into an
alleyway after she got off work.
In those more traditional times, my mother
had been forced to marry my father and had
- She suffered through my father’s daily
drinking and beatings.
It wasn’t until my father drunkenly stormed
out one winter evening, never to return, that
our life of suffering ended.
I had hoped that my mother and I could finally
be happy, but instead, she left me with my
grandma while she went to work. I was five
when my grandma died and Mom brought me
back home.
L
That’s when I found out she’d remarried. I had
a new dad and an older brother three years
older than me. Oh, and a little sister who had
just turned three.
At first, Ben, Ashley, and I were close. Ben was so excited to have two little sisters, he
would try to braid our hair, teach us how to read, and hold our hands as he walked us to
school.
I adored them. I had never felt so wanted.
I had a brother, a sister, a mother who,
despite her coldness, still cared, and a wise,
gentle stepdad.
Then everything changed.
<
Ben began looking at me with a strange look
in his eyes, saying the most spiteful things.
Ashley started bullying me at school, throwing
away my books, slapping me in the bathroom, locking me in the dark supply closet after
school.
I didn’t understand why. I had done nothing
wrong, yet they punished me like I was the
aggressor.
I just wanted to escape from this nightmare.
When they arrived, two young officers met
them. After a quick look at each other, the
older officer started, trying to choose his
words carefully:
“While we have recovered the body and done
<
our best to repair the damage, there are still
some missing pieces, so we may have to tell
you that…”
Josh stared at the officer, his voice shaking a
little. “What might we have to know?”
“Some of the remains may have been…
consumed by the suspect.”
“We need you to be prepared.”
Maybe my mom and family were too calm,
too detached. It was like the person lying
there had no connection to them at all. On
the way to the room, the two cops glanced
back at them a few times, seeming to notice
their genuine apathy.
The bright overhead light made my body look
<
unnaturally pale. I hated those lights. I always
liked the warm, softer lighting.
The smell was awful, especially for something
that had been dead for so long.
I looked at my body with them, the way it was
swollen, the way my face was unrecognizable.
Oh, and I noticed that my left leg was gone. If
they were paying closer attention, they’d have
seen that both my hands were missing too.
“According to the suspect, he kept the victim
alive in a cold storage unit, and then every
few days, he’d remove a body part.”
“The suspect, a local man named Chad, has
committed five homicides in the last four
years. He typically watches his victims for
months to make sure he won’t get caught.”
“Normally, he would bury the victims
immediately. But recent heavy rains washed
away the other victims he had buried further
up the mountain, which is how we were able
to find him.”
“As for why the victim in this case was frozen
and dismembered, instead of immediately
buried like the others, he admitted it was
because he realized the victim was pregnant
after torturing her.”
The impact of that sentence was greater than
the news of my death.
I went to stand in front of Ben, watching the
look of pure agony on his always-superior
face. I watched as he finally realized what he
had done to me.
I’d played that scenario in my head so many times, but never thought it would play out like
this.
It was laughable, wasn’t it?
My family hadn’t realized I’d been murdered for a year, and the horrible truth was, I had been frozen to death because I was pregnant.
And even more laughable than that was how broken my life had been all along.
When did it all start?
It probably started the day after our family
portrait when my mom took Ben and Ashley
to the mall, and I had to stay home with my
stepdad because I had a fever.
From that moment on, my room started
reeking of stale cigarette smoke, my bed was
like a bottomless black hole, and my body
was decaying from the inside out.
HE
I didn’t really understand what was happening
back then. All I knew was that the slaps my
stepdad inflicted hurt so badly, and
eventually, when I didn’t have the strength to
cry anymore, he’d tear off my clothes.
When I thought I was going to die, he finally
let me go, untying my hands and taking me to
the bathroom to wash up.
Once he was done, he grabbed my hair,
telling me that if I told anyone, my mom
would get treated the same way. He told me
she’d experience pain ten times worse, a
hundred times worse.
I had a high fever for days, during which he
and my mom kept vigil by my bed. I saw his
eyes, which conveyed both concern and a
warning. After a week, I was finally feeling
better, and my mom cried, telling my stepdad
how lucky she was to have him to help with
taking care of me.
But from that point, I had nightmares of
monstrous, man-eating creatures chasing me.
I could never escape them. They would grab
me with long tentacles, rip me to pieces, and
swallow me whole.
I was always on edge, scared I’d fall back into
that hell.
Thankfully, for the next year, my stepdad left
L
me alone, allowing me some time to heal and
to tell myself that I could survive.
My family went to the interrogation room with
the police.
The killer had said he knew details about my
death but would only share them with my family. After talking to Mom, the five of them
went into the room.
As I stared at the killer, it struck me why his
face was so familiar. I’d seen him so many
times in passing.
He was the upstairs neighbor from my
building, the delivery guy who brought me
water, the driver of one of my ride-shares.
I tried to say it to my mother. “Mom, look, a
man who wanted to kill me was more patient
with me than you ever were.”
The police said the killer’s motive was simple.
He had been swindled and cheated on by his
wife who had taken all his money. He went to
the fringes of society 21
ki
out women
who were similar to his ex-wife, who lived
alone and had family drama.
The police were right. The day I was attacked,
I had just been fighting with Ben on the
phone. He’d ordered me to come home and
said that I would always be stuck under his
thumb. Better to accept my fate than to go
out into the world and make my own way.
