Chapter 4

The Tarot box had fallen off the shelf and cracked open. Two stacks had spilled across the rug, one from each side of a hidden divider.

The cards in one stack had all been set to turn up reversed. In the other, every card was set to turn up upright.

I thought about how Mom always made me turn away while Lily drew. She'd been switching stacks right in front of me.

Mom and Dad never loved me. Just like Grandma had said, the Tarot cards were nothing more than a convenient excuse. A facade of fairness to hide their blatant favoritism.

A chilling cold settled deep into my bones.

I was already dead, yet my heart ached so fiercely.

Assuming I was "throwing a tantrum," Mom and Dad treated me like thin air after coming back from the clinic.

They didn't set a place for me or call me to draw cards. They just fussed over Lily.

It was as if I had never existed in that house.

Until Mr. Vance, the piano tuner, came by.

"Dr. Miller, is there something going on by your piano room?"

"It smells like something's rotting. And how come I haven't seen Hannah lately? Doesn't she usually help label the sheet music?"

Mom was peeling crab for Lily, not even bothering to look up.

"She's throwing a tantrum. She won't even eat, let alone label sheet music. As for the smell..."

Mom suddenly stood up in a fit of rage, marched to my door, and slammed her fist against it.

"Hannah! Did you hide some rotting junk in there?! What are you trying to pull? Trying to make everyone think I'm a terrible mother who doesn't raise you right?!"

She yelled for a long time. There was no answer. Mr. Vance frowned.

"Could something be wrong? Hannah is just a kid. She can't go days without food or water."

Crouched in the corner, I looked up at Mom.

I didn't see the worry I secretly longed for. All I saw was a face full of sneering contempt.

"She put Lily in the clinic twice this week! What could possibly happen to her? Lily's the one with a bruised forehead! Lily is the one who got hurt!"

Looking at Lily's teary eyes, Mr. Vance swallowed his words.

After he left, Mom dumped all the leftover food straight into the trash can.

"Want to hold out against me? Fine! Let's see how long you can last! I'm not leaving you a single scrap."

"Since you refuse to come out, I'll just call your school and unenroll you! Save me some tuition money!"

The smell grew worse until even Mom and Dad couldn't ignore it.

Yet they never once suspected that I was dead. They only assumed I had turned into a foul, spiteful brat.

A filthy child who relieved herself on the floor just to spite them.

Mr. Vance was the one who called the police. After he left, he couldn't stop thinking about what he'd seen.

When Mom saw the officers on our doorstep, she slammed her hand on the table and stood up.

"What is the meaning of this?! Bringing the police to arrest us? Did we murder someone? Did we break the law?!"

"Officers," Mr. Vance spoke up, "she locked her daughter in that room for days with no food or water! That's child abuse!"

"And their parenting is completely twisted! They use Tarot cards to raise their kids, claiming it's fair, but they only spoil the younger one while neglecting the older one!"

"I'm terrified the older girl has been abused to death!"

Hearing that, Mom let out a scoffing laugh.

"How I raise my kids is my business! It has nothing to do with you, so stay out of it!"

"Officers, my daughter is perfectly fine. He's filing a false report. You should arrest him!"

The officers, however, had already caught the sickening stench of decay hanging in the air. They stepped forward, preparing to force the door open.

Mom threw herself in front of it.

"This is trespassing! Get out of my house!"

"My daughter is not dead! She's just throwing a tantrum! She's making that foul smell on purpose just to get my attention!"

Dad roughly dragged Mom aside, his temper flaring.

"Stop arguing. Let them open it."

"This is ridiculous. We've never abused our kid. She's just acting out, and you people are jumping to insane conclusions."

"Let Hannah come out and explain it herself. That stubborn brat has gotten way too out of hand."

The crowbar snapped the latch. The door swung wide.

As a wave of putrid stench hit everyone in the face, they saw my body—rotted beyond recognition.

Floating in the air, I instinctively turned my gaze toward Mom and Dad.