Chapter 3: The Ghost in the Family

With the police working around the clock, they finally got some results. Finally, something broke loose.

The house was a blur of uniforms and evidence bags. The phone rang constantly, reporters hounded the front lawn. The case took on a life of its own. Chaos everywhere.

“We found it. The remains we’ve recovered were divided into seven or eight pieces. We’ve only been able to put together the lower half—the thighs.”

The words made everyone flinch. The horror of it all was almost too much to bear. The room went silent.

Everyone looked grim. If human remains showed up in someone’s dinner, the whole city would lose it.

The thought alone was enough to make you sick. The city was already on edge, and this would push it over. People were scared.

The higher-ups were taking it very seriously. This case had to be solved. No excuses.

The pressure came from all sides—mayor, chief, even the governor. Dad’s phone buzzed nonstop with new orders. It never stopped.

“What do you think the killer’s after? The victim was just a young girl. How much hatred could there be?” Uncle Jeff’s voice was shaky.

Uncle Jeff’s voice was shaky, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. He looked older, more tired than ever. Worn down.

Uncle Jeff groaned, smacking his head dramatically. He let out a frustrated sigh.

He made a show of it, but the fear in his eyes was real. The whole department felt it—the sense that something was terribly wrong. Something evil.

“That’s dismemberment! Chopped into seven or eight pieces—pure psycho!” He couldn’t hide his disgust.

He shook his head, muttering under his breath. The words hung in the air, echoing everyone’s fears. No one felt safe.

“Maybe not.” Julian’s eyes flashed darkly, his fists clenched in the shadows.

He stepped forward, his expression unreadable. There was something cold and calculating about him in that moment. He seemed almost dangerous.

“The killer cut her up like that to hide something.” He said it like a challenge.

His words were quiet, but they carried weight. Everyone turned to listen. The room went still.

Dad asked quietly, “Hide what?”

He leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. You could hear the desperation in it. Everyone waited.

Julian met his eyes. “The victim’s identity.”

The room went silent. The pieces started to fall into place, but the picture was too horrible to look at. Dread settled over us.

My soul stirred with excitement. Something in me sparked.

A flicker of hope, sharp and bright. Maybe, just maybe, someone would finally see me. Maybe they’d know.

When the forensic examiner put the pieces together, Dad would recognize the old burn scar on my leg from when I was little. That scar would tell the truth.

The scar ran jagged across my thigh, a reminder of a childhood accident. I’d always hated it—now it might be the only thing that could save me. Irony, sharp and cruel.

“What’s this?” Dad frowned, leaning in.

He leaned closer, squinting at the scar. His hands shook just a little. Fear flickered in his eyes.

“Frank, didn’t your Savannah have a scar on her leg?” Uncle Jeff suddenly interjected.

He spoke softly, almost afraid of the answer. His eyes darted from the body to Dad’s face, searching for hope. The question hovered.

Uncle Jeff lived next door and had watched me grow up. When I was most desperate, he was the one who comforted me. He was always there.

He’d patch up my scraped knees, sneak me cookies when Mom wasn’t looking. He never blamed me, not once. Not ever.

“Enough, Jeff. Don’t bring her up now.” Dad’s voice was raw.

Dad’s voice was raw, barely holding back the pain. He turned away, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Shame burned in his cheeks.

“I know you care about Savannah and want to fix things between us, but every time I see her, I just remember the day Caleb went missing.”

His words were heavy, each one a stone added to the pile I carried. The weight was crushing.

“I’ll never forgive her. She’s the one who almost got Caleb killed.” He spat the words out.

He spat the words out, final and unforgiving. The room felt colder, emptier. A chill seeped into my bones.

Pain stabbed my heart. His harsh words made it hard to breathe, and my soul curled in on itself. I wanted to vanish.

I wanted to scream, to beg for forgiveness. But the pain was too much, and I shrank back into the shadows. I disappeared.

That’s right. I deserve to die.

The thought settled over me like a shroud. Maybe this was the only way to make things right. Maybe it was justice.

If I’d just been more careful watching my brother, things wouldn’t be like this. I knew it.

I replayed the day over and over, searching for the moment I could’ve changed everything. But the past was unyielding. It never gave an inch.

He wouldn’t have suffered so much just to come home. Not if I’d been better.

Every scar, every nightmare—my fault. That’s what I told myself, again and again. Over and over.

After all these years, Mom and Dad still hadn’t forgiven me for what happened. Not once.

The wound never closed. It festered, poisoning every word, every look. It never healed.

Maybe dying isn’t so bad.

At least, after I’m gone, my brother can stay with Mom and Dad. They’ll be a family again.

The thought brought a strange comfort. Maybe they’d finally find peace. Maybe I would too.

“Frank Carter!” Uncle Jeff suddenly punched him, eyes red. The sound was sharp.

The sound echoed through the room. Dad staggered back, stunned. Everyone froze, the shock plain on their faces. You could hear a pin drop.

Everyone around stared in shock. No one moved.

The silence stretched, no one daring to move. Uncle Jeff’s fist still trembled. Tension vibrated in the air.

“You know it wasn’t Savannah’s fault,” Uncle Jeff said angrily, his voice shaking. He wouldn’t back down.

He pointed a trembling finger at Dad, his face twisted with grief and rage. He was done pretending.

“I really misjudged you. All these years, you kept blaming a little kid for Caleb going missing—fine. But now that he’s back, you still won’t let it go!”

His voice cracked, but he didn’t back down. The truth was out, raw and painful. It needed to be said.

I didn’t know when the tears started falling, but I didn’t want Uncle Jeff to ruin his friendship with Dad over me. Guilt twisted in my stomach.

I wiped my eyes, wishing I could tell him to stop, to let it go. But some things needed to be said. The silence was heavy.

Mom called me a murderer, Dad said I was a jinx. Their words still echoed.

The words echoed in my head, a chorus of blame I could never escape. I couldn’t drown them out.

Now, I’d been killed in such a cruel way. It was almost poetic.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. Maybe this was justice, in some twisted way. Maybe I was getting what I deserved.

Maybe I deserved it.

The thought circled back, relentless and cold. It wouldn’t let go.

Dad, Mom—

I reached out, my hand trembling, but it passed through the photo on the mantel. My heart ached for them, even now. The longing was endless.

If you find out I’m dead, will you be a little happier?

I waited for an answer that would never come. The silence was my only reply.

Dad got home, and Aunt Linda came knocking. The night wasn’t over yet.

She banged on the door, her voice high with worry. You could hear the fear in every syllable. It cut through the house.

“Frank, have you seen Savannah?” Aunt Linda’s face was tight with worry.

She clutched her purse to her chest, her eyes darting from face to face. She was always the one who showed up when things went wrong. She never gave up.

After I became unwelcome at home, it was Aunt and Uncle Jeff who took me in so I wouldn’t lose hope completely. They saved me.

They gave me a place to sleep, hot meals, and quiet comfort. Their house was a sanctuary, even when the rest of the world turned its back. I was safe there.

“Why are you looking for that jinx?” Mom frowned at Aunt Linda. Her eyes narrowed.

Her voice was cold, defensive. She crossed her arms, daring Aunt Linda to challenge her. She wouldn’t back down.

“Diane Carter! What the hell is wrong with you? How can you talk about your daughter like that?” Aunt Linda was furious, her worry plain on her face.

She stepped forward, her voice rising. You could see the tears gathering in her eyes, but she held them back. She was stronger than she looked.

“I don’t have a murderer for a daughter,” Mom sneered.

She spat the words out, her lips curling in disgust. The pain in the room was palpable. It stung.

“Still pulling the same stunts? Haven’t had enough? Think she’s still a kid?” Mom’s voice was ice.

Aunt Linda shook her head, exasperated. She refused to back down, even as Mom slammed the door in her face. The argument ended with a bang.

Aunt Linda didn’t have time to argue. “If you know where Savannah is, tell me. Her phone’s been off for five days.”

Her voice cracked, desperation bleeding through. She clung to hope, even as it slipped away. I wished I could answer her.

“How should I know? She can die out there for all I care!” Mom snapped, turning away.

Mom’s words were sharp, final. The door slammed shut, rattling the frame. Aunt Linda’s footsteps echoed down the porch. Silence settled in.

The sound reverberated through the house, leaving a silence that was louder than any argument. It rang in my ears.

Then she went to Caleb’s room, calling him softly. Her tone changed instantly.

Her voice changed, suddenly gentle. She knocked on his door, a smile in her tone she never used with me. It was like she was someone else.

“Caleb, I’m home.” Ever since he was found, Mom seemed determined to pour all her motherly love into Caleb. She clung to him.

She hovered in his doorway, fussing over him, smoothing his hair. The love she gave him was fierce, almost desperate. She wouldn’t let go.

I’d never heard her speak like that. The last time she smiled at me was when I won an art contest. She bought me a necklace. That memory was gold.

I still remembered the way her eyes lit up, the warmth in her hug. I wore that necklace every day, hoping it would bring the old her back. It never did.

After that, only Dad would gently comfort me. He tried.

He’d sneak into my room at night, whispering apologies he couldn’t say in the daylight. But those moments grew fewer and farther between. The distance grew.

But that was so long ago. None of it belonged to me anymore. I was a ghost in my own house.

The memories faded, replaced by silence and cold shoulders. The warmth was gone.

“Oh, right, Caleb.” Dad showed up at the door too. The three of them looked like a happy family, as if nothing had changed without me. I was invisible.

They laughed at something Caleb said, the sound sharp and foreign. I watched from the hallway, invisible, my heart aching for a place at the table. I missed them.

My heart ached, but I couldn’t leave. I was stuck.

I lingered in the shadows, unable to tear myself away. It was a punishment, but also a comfort—I could still see them, even if they couldn’t see me. I clung to it.

It was as if fate wanted to punish me, forcing me to stay close to Mom and Dad. I couldn’t escape.

Every day felt like a test I couldn’t pass. I wondered if things would ever be different. Hope was a knife.

“When this case is over, let’s take a trip to Maple Heights, okay?” Dad said, voice light.

His voice was light, almost hopeful. He smiled at Mom and Caleb, already planning the getaway. The dream felt out of reach.

Hearing that familiar name, it felt like a giant hand squeezed my heart, sharp pain radiating through me. I couldn’t breathe.

I remembered the brochures, the photos of red leaves and winding trails. I’d dreamed of going there as a kid. Now, it felt like another world. So far away.

Maple Heights—I knew it so well. It was the place I used to dream of visiting. Now it was just a memory.

I pictured us there, laughing, hiking, forgetting the past. But that dream was gone, just like me. Lost forever.

Now, none of it mattered to me anymore. I was empty.

The ache in my chest grew sharper, colder. I turned away, unable to watch. I couldn’t bear it.

“Dad, how’s the dismemberment case? Did you catch the killer?” Caleb asked casually. He didn’t even look up.

He sprawled on his bed, tossing a baseball in the air. His voice was light, almost bored. Like it was just another day.

“It’s moving fast.” Then Dad frowned. “How did you know it was a dismemberment case?” He fixed Caleb with a stare.

He narrowed his eyes, suspicion flickering across his face. The room grew tense. I could feel the shift.

My heart clenched suddenly. Panic fluttered in my chest.

A cold dread settled in my stomach. I watched Caleb, searching his face for any sign of guilt. My breath caught.

Caleb answered awkwardly, “Oh, Dad, you forgot? Didn’t they find the body parts at our place?”

He forced a laugh, scratching the back of his head. The lie came easily, too easily. I saw right through it.

Then he put on a worried face. “I really don’t get why the killer would send the remains to our house.”

He shook his head, feigning confusion. Dad relaxed, reassured by the performance. He bought it.

Dad ruffled his hair. “It’s okay. I’ll keep you safe.”

I shrank into a corner, disappointed. I wanted to scream.

The truth slipped through my fingers, just out of reach. I wanted to scream, to warn them, but all I could do was watch. Helpless.

He fooled Dad again.

The realization stung. I wondered if they’d ever see him the way I did. Maybe someday.