I’d never been the kind to harbor hate. Perhaps that was my fatal flaw. Maybe I was foolish to still feel anything for people who only wished I’d disappear.
I laughed. A cold, bitter laugh that filled the silence like shattered glass. It felt unhinged. Like I was slipping into madness.
When Chelsea’s birthday came, I still went. The entire pack gathered to honor her memory as if she were still among them. I stood at a distance, unnoticed, watching as they lifted her framed portrait onto a temporary altar. She looked young. Radiant.
I wore the dress she had picked for me—a modest blue one.
Charlene approached with a soft smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Did Mom ask you to come, Louise? You really shouldn’t be here…” She sounded concerned, but I knew it was just an act.
Phyllis stood beside her, offering no words, no comfort. He avoided my eyes entirely. He looked… embarrassed.
Suddenly, my mother appeared and grabbed my arm, her grip iron-tight, dragging me forward without a word of explanation.
She led me directly to the empty casket.
“Kneel,” she commanded sharply. “Tell us where our Chelsea is buried.”
As if I wasn’t her child. As if I didn’t matter at all.