Chapter 4They Called My Death a Lie

For nearly ten seconds, the only sound was the jagged, ragged breathing of my father on the other end of the screen.

Finally, his eyes narrowed, staring into the camera with an icy sneer. "I don't know who you are, or how much Tessa paid you to put on this stunt, but when I call the precinct to report medical impersonation, you’re going to jail."

My mother snatched the phone from his dashboard, her face twisted in a mask of fury. "Tessa Mercer! You don't get to burn down the house and then hide like a coward! Get your ass off that table and face us!"

"County Morgue, Lower Level Two, Drawer A-07," the nurse said flatly. "Her body is right here."

She ended the call.

In the passenger seat of their SUV, Gavin’s brow furrowed. "Tessa really went all out this time... she’s always been terrified of hospitals, but to stage something in a morgue..."

He trailed off.

On the screen, right before the feed cut, he had caught a glimpse of the blue floral scrunchie holding my hair back.

He remembered that scrunchie. Six months ago, he had bought Paige a delicate gold pendant. Feeling a brief twinge of awkward guilt, he had grabbed a two-dollar scrunchie from the impulse rack by the register and tossed it at me.

He remembered how my face had lit up. How I had spun around in the kitchen, beaming, treating that cheap piece of fabric like a crown jewel.

"Dad," Gavin muttered, his voice suddenly hollow. "Drive to the hospital. Let’s go catch her in the act."

My father didn't say a word. He jerked the wheel, cutting across two lanes of traffic, the engine roaring as he tore toward the medical center.

In the back seat, Paige began to sniffle softly. "I’ll just call her... I’ll tell her she can have the bracelet. I don't want it anymore."

My mother’s heart was hammering against her ribs, her knuckles white as she clutched her purse. "No. Don't call. Don't let her know we’re coming. We’re going to catch her red-handed."

They reached the basement morgue in record time.

The heavy metal doors banged open. Gavin spotted the open steel tray immediately. He strode forward, grabbing the edge of the white sheet, and ripped it back with violent force.

"Tessa, cut the crap!"

My mother’s hand reached out instinctively, her fingers hovering near my mouth, waiting for the warm puff of breath that never came.

Her leather handbag slipped from her shoulder, hitting the linoleum with a heavy thud.

"Tess?"

"Tessa Mercer, the house is half-burned! Stop lying there! Get up right now!"

Her hands touched my cheek. The cold was unmistakable—the stiff, unyielding frost of biological cessation. Her voice cracked, rising into a shrill, hysterical pitch. She shook my shoulders, harder and harder, refusing to accept the stillness.

"Get up! I said get up!"

Gavin grabbed my hand, trying to pull me upright, his words stumbling over each other in sheer panic. "Tess, come on. You don't have to marry that guy down the hall, okay? It was just a joke! We were just pissed about the stove! Just sit up and tell Dad you’re fine, and I promise I won't let him touch you!"

He squeezed my fingers. They were already stiffening. "Tess, please. Just wake up."

My father was the last to walk in. His car keys slipped from his trembling grip, scattering across the floor. The walk from the doorway to the steel table was barely twenty feet, but he moved like an old man dragging iron chains.

By the time he reached the side of the gurney, my mother had collapsed over my chest, wailing like an animal torn in half.

"Tess! Don't do this to me! Look at me! Look at your mother, please!"

Standing frozen by the wall, Paige finally blinked, snapping out of her daze. Her eyes darted wildly, and with shaking hands, she rummaged through her designer purse, pulling out a small metal paperclip.

"Mom... Gavin... stop," Paige stammered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Tessa hates hospitals, but she hates physical pain even more. Move out of the way. If I poke her, she won't be able to hold it in. She’ll jump."

She straightened the paperclip with frantic precision, her eyes wild, stepping toward my lifeless body.

A bitter, sorrowful smile touched my spirit.

We had never owned a dog, but our childhood neighbors had. A stray terrier that got hit by a car on the avenue.

I remembered how the neighbors had wailed in the street, crying for their beloved pet. But when the sanitation truck came, they didn't want to pay for a private burial; they shoved the little corpse into a plastic trash bag and tossed it behind the shed, saying it wasn't worth spending real money on something that was already broken.

And now, here was my family.

Even with my cold, lifeless corpse lying directly before their eyes, their first instinct was to accuse me of lying. Their first reaction was to inflict pain to prove they weren't in the wrong.

I turned my face away. I didn't want to look at them anymore.

A sudden, sharp smack echoed through the room. Paige was thrown violently off balance, crashing hard onto the linoleum floor.

She looked up, clutching her shoulder, her eyes wide with shock.