Chapter 3

Lily's POV

Emma's smile wasn't the kind you see on greeting cards.

It was the smile of someone who'd already made up their mind about something terrible.

"Lily," she whispered through the crack, "do you know why my mommy died?"

My teeth chattered so hard I could barely speak. "Emma...please...let me out...I'm so cold..."

"She was speeding to pick me up from school. I called her crying, told her the mean girls pushed me down." Emma's voice stayed flat, emotionless. "She ran a red light. Then the truck came."

"I'm sorry—" Tears froze on my cheeks. "I'm so sorry about Aunt Sarah—"

"Are you?" Emma tilted her head. "For three years, I watched you. Perfect Lily with her perfect mommy. Your mom came to EVERY recital. Sat in the front row. Brought you flowers."

She pressed her small hand against the freezer lid.

"Mine worked double shifts at the hospital. She missed my birthday. Twice. But you know what? I didn't care. Because she was MY mommy. The only person who loved me."

My whole body was shaking now. I couldn't feel my toes anymore.

"Emma, please—"

"At the funeral, Aunt Catherine held me. She cried and said, 'I promise I'll take care of you like my own daughter.' I thought maybe...maybe I could have a family again."

Emma's hand moved to something outside my view. I heard a clicking sound.

"But today, I heard her on the phone with your daddy. She said, 'I can't take care of both of them. As soon as things settle down, Emma goes to foster care.'"

"No—that's not—"

"I just lost my mommy." Emma's voice cracked. "I can't lose this family too. I'm sorry, Lily. But one of us has to go."

I heard another click. Then a low mechanical hum.

The temperature dropped.

Not gradually. All at once, like someone had opened a door to the Arctic.

"Emma, NO! PLEASE!" I screamed, pounding on the lid with numb fists. "I'll tell Mommy you can stay! I'll leave! Just let me out!"

But I heard her footsteps running away. The garage door slammed.

Then—silence.

The cold wasn't just cold anymore. It was alive. Crawling up from my feet, wrapping around my legs like frozen snakes. I tried to keep moving, tried to stay warm, but my body wouldn't cooperate.

How long had I been in here? The darkness made time disappear.

I banged on the lid again, weaker this time. My arms felt like they belonged to someone else.

"Mommy," I whispered. "Mommy, please..."

But she wasn't coming.

She'd told Emma to pick out whatever she wanted from my room. She'd called her "sweetheart" and "baby." All the names she used to call me.

I wasn't her daughter anymore.

Maybe Emma was right. Maybe it would be better if I just...went away.

My eyes were getting heavy. The cold didn't hurt as much now. Actually, it almost felt...warm? That didn't make sense, but my brain was too foggy to figure it out.

I thought about Mommy when I was little. Before Daddy left. Before everything broke.

She used to dance with me in the kitchen. Spinning me around, both of us laughing. She'd make up silly songs about butterflies and rainbows. Sometimes she'd cry while watching me sleep, but they were happy tears.

"You're my whole world, Lily," she'd whisper. "My little miracle."

When did that change? When did I become the thing she hated most?

I couldn't feel my hands anymore. Couldn't feel anything, really.

Maybe this was okay. Maybe Mommy could be happy again if I wasn't here. She could focus all her love on Emma. No more reminders of Daddy's betrayal. No more disappointment every time she looked at me.

"I'm sorry, Mommy," I whispered into the darkness. "I'm sorry I wasn't good enough. I'm sorry I ruined everything."

My chest felt tight. Breathing was hard.

"I love you. Even if you don't love me anymore."

The darkness was pulling me down, down, down.

"I'm...so...cold..."

Then—warmth.

Sudden, complete warmth, like someone had wrapped me in the softest blanket in the world.

I opened my eyes.

I was floating.

Actually floating, up near the garage ceiling, looking down at...

Oh.

That was me.

A small body curled up in the freezer, lips blue, eyes closed. Frost crystals sparkled on my eyelashes.

I stared at the body below.

I'm dead.

The thought should have scared me. Should have made me cry. But instead, I felt...peaceful.

No more cold. No more pain. No more seeing Mommy's hateful eyes.

I floated through the garage door—straight through it, like I was made of air. The house looked different from up here. Smaller. Sadder.

I drifted toward the living room, pulled by voices.

Mommy sat on the couch, braiding Emma's hair. The same way she used to braid mine. She was humming.

HUMMING.

Like nothing was wrong. Like her daughter wasn't dead in the garage.

"Mommy Catherine," Emma said quietly, "where's Lily?"

Mommy's hands didn't stop moving. "Still in the garage being stubborn. Let her stay there all night for all I care."

"But...isn't it really cold?"

"Good." Mommy's voice was sharp. "Maybe it'll freeze some sense into her."

She finished the braid and held up a new ballet dress—pink with silver sparkles. Not one I'd seen before.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's try this on. I ordered it for you online. Pink looks so much better on you anyway."

Emma stood up, and Mommy helped her into the dress. It fit perfectly.

"You know," Mommy said, stepping back to admire Emma, "you dance so much more gracefully than Lily ever did. Sarah raised you well."

Emma spun in front of the mirror, and something flashed across her face. Guilt? Fear? But it was gone in a second, replaced by a careful smile.

"Really?"

"Really." Mommy touched Emma's cheek. "You're the daughter I always wanted."

The words hit me like a physical blow. Even though I was dead. Even though I didn't have a heart that could break anymore.

Somehow, this hurt worse than freezing.

The clock on the wall said 9:47 PM.

I'd been in the freezer for four hours.

Four hours.

And Mommy hadn't checked on me once.

I watched Emma glance toward the garage, just for a second. Her smile faltered. She knew. She knew what she'd done. But she wasn't going to say anything.

She was going to let Mommy think I was just being a brat.

How long would it take? A day? Two days? A week?

How long until Mommy opened the freezer and found my body?

That night, I watched Mommy tuck Emma into my bed. MY bed. With my sheets. My stuffed animals. She gave Emma Mr. Flopsy—my favorite bunny—and Emma hugged him tight.

"Sweet dreams, my angel," Mommy whispered, kissing Emma's forehead.

Then she walked past the garage door.

Didn't even glance at it.

I was dead.

And Mommy didn't know.

I floated back to the garage and looked down at my frozen body one more time.

How long until she finds me?

And what will happen when she does?