Chapter 4

"Mom, please—just believe me this once..."

But Mom didn't even look at me. She grabbed Scarlett's hand, ready to leave.

"Yesterday you refused to give Scarlett your job, and now you're faking being sick for attention? You're being ridiculous!"

"If you want to keep faking, go ahead. We're done with your drama."

Then they walked out of the room.

My hand froze in the air, still reaching for help as I watched them leave.

From outside, I could hear all three of them laughing happily.

"Dad, I heard that ski resort is huge! You have to take tons of pictures of Mom and me!"

"Don't worry, I'm an amazing photographer!"

"Let's go! The car's waiting downstairs."

Right after, I heard the front door close.

I collapsed back onto the bed, helpless, and felt blood trickle from the corner of my mouth.

If this kept up, I was going to die.

I bit down hard, fumbling for my phone in my pocket, shaking so bad I could barely hold it. I needed to call 911.

I'd just pressed "9" when a Snapchat notification popped up.

It was from Scarlett.

I opened it—a selfie of all three of them in the car.

Mom and Dad had their arms around Scarlett, all grinning like nothing was wrong. Their happiness felt like a knife in my chest.

I couldn't hold it in anymore. I coughed up blood, splattering the phone screen.

The screen went black, stuck on that stupid selfie, and wouldn't turn back on.

I had no strength left. The phone slipped from my hand, landing right in front of me.

Their smiling faces stared back at me from the dark screen.

The pain in my stomach got worse and worse. I couldn't move, and everything started to fade.

Finally, in so much pain, I stopped breathing.

Suddenly I felt weightless. I floated above the bed, looking down at my body curled up there, and shook my head.

I never thought coming home for the holidays would kill me.

But maybe it was for the best. Liam, my parents, my job—everything that mattered was gone.

Living just meant more of this. At least death was an escape.

But even after dying, I was stuck in this house. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't leave.

I was stuck in that bedroom, watching my body get colder and stiffer each day, still curled up like it was in pain.

Meanwhile, Mom, Dad, and Scarlett were out having the time of their lives—they didn't come home for days.

I looked at my face on the bed, all twisted up, and tried to smooth my forehead. But my hand just went right through.

Right. I was dead. I forgot.

A few days later, I finally heard the front door open.

They were back—Mom, Dad, and Scarlett—talking all excited about their trip, like nothing was wrong.

Mom finally noticed the smell and frowned when she saw my bedroom door was still shut.

"What’s Hazel doing now? I texted her we were coming home today! Why does it smell so gross in here? What’s she been up to?"

She called my name a few times at the door. When I didn’t answer, she stomped over and threw the door open.

"You’re being such a brat! Can’t even answer when I talk to you!"

She kept yelling as she pushed the door all the way open. When she saw me lying on the bed, she got even madder.

She marched over, grabbed the blanket, and was about to yank it off.