Chapter 2: The Lie That Reached My Father
By the third night, I had stopped sleeping properly.
Every time the garage door rattled in the wind, I woke up thinking someone was coming.
My throat hurt. My head throbbed. Even breathing made my chest ache.
I wrapped my mother's old blanket around myself and stared at the ceiling.
Somewhere upstairs, Brittany was playing music.
It was the same room where my mother had once sat beside me during thunderstorms, holding my hand until I fell asleep.
Now someone else was laughing in it.
At around seven the following morning, I heard footsteps.
The garage door opened.
Vanessa stood there holding a laundry basket.
"Move your mattress.""
I blinked.
"What?""
"I need to get to the washing machine.""
"I'm sick.""
She looked at me with irritation.
"You're always something, aren't you?""
I tried to stand, but the room tilted.
I grabbed the edge of the washing machine.
Vanessa watched me struggle.
"Stop being dramatic.""
"Please, I think I have a fever.""
She dropped the laundry basket onto the floor.
"Then you should have thought about that before making my life difficult.""
I looked at her.
"I didn't do anything.""
Her lips tightened.
"That's exactly your problem. You think the world owes you something because your mother died.""
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she leaned closer.
"Listen carefully. Michael has enough stress at work. If you tell him any of this, I'll make sure he understands that you're lying for attention.""
I swallowed.
"He wouldn't believe you.""
Vanessa smiled.
"Wouldn't he?""
She took a folded piece of paper from her pocket.
It was a printed email.
At the top was my father's name.
Underneath, someone had written:
Emily is doing much better. She's enjoying her time with friends and has asked not to be disturbed while you're away.
I stared at the page.
"Did you send that?""
Vanessa folded it again.
"Your father trusts me.""
"But that's not true.""
"Truth is a very flexible thing when nobody can contradict it.""
She turned toward the door.
"Now move that mattress.""
I pushed it away from the washing machine with trembling hands.
Vanessa left without another word.
Later that afternoon, I heard her speaking on the phone inside the house.
The garage door was slightly open, allowing her voice to drift through.
"Yes, everything is going according to plan.""
A pause.
"No, Michael doesn't suspect anything.""
Another pause.
"Emily is staying out of the way. That's all that matters.""
My heart began pounding.
I moved closer to the door.
Then I heard her say something that made me stop breathing.
"The attorney doesn't need to know where she is. We just need her to sign the papers.""
What papers?
I pressed my ear against the door.
"Of course Brittany will benefit. She's my daughter. Who else should the money go to?""
I stumbled backward.
The washing machine rattled behind me.
Vanessa immediately stopped talking.
"Who's there?""
I froze.
Her heels clicked across the kitchen floor.
The garage door opened.
She stared at me.
"How long have you been standing there?""
"I was just getting water.""
She glanced at the bottle in my hand.
"From where?""
I said nothing.
Vanessa stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
"Emily, I need you to understand something.""
She reached into her purse and pulled out a thick envelope.
"This is paperwork concerning your mother's belongings.""
I stared at it.
"What about them?""
"Your father and I have been discussing what to do with the things she left behind.""
"My mother left them to me.""
"Some of them.""
She placed the envelope on top of the washing machine.
"Sign these.""
I looked at the first page.
My name was printed at the top.
There were several paragraphs about transferring ownership of personal property.
"I don't understand this.""
"You don't need to.""
"Can Dad explain it to me?""
Vanessa's expression turned cold.
"Your father has already agreed.""
"Then why can't I ask him?""
She grabbed the papers.
"Because you're making everything unnecessarily difficult.""
I stepped away.
"I'm not signing anything.""
For the first time, Vanessa looked genuinely angry.
"You ungrateful little girl.""
She shoved the envelope back into her purse.
"Fine. We'll discuss it when you're feeling more cooperative.""
She left.
I sat down slowly.
My mother had always told me never to sign anything I didn't understand.
I could still hear her voice.
Your name is important, Emily. Never let anyone convince you otherwise.
That evening, I became so weak that I could barely lift my head.
I had no phone.
No money.
No way to contact Dad.
I thought about our last conversation before he left for Dallas.
He had stood in the kitchen, adjusting his tie while I packed my schoolbag.
"Be good for Vanessa, sweetheart," he'd said.
"I will.""
"And remember, I'll be home Friday.""
I'd smiled.
"Promise?""
He'd kissed my forehead.
"Promise.""
Now Friday seemed impossibly far away.
I closed my eyes.
Then, sometime after midnight, I heard a car outside.
A door slammed.
Footsteps crossed the driveway.
I sat up.
The footsteps stopped near the garage.
A man's voice called through the darkness.
"Emily?""
My heart jumped.
I knew that voice.
It was my father's.
"Daddy?""
I tried to stand, but my knees buckled.
The garage door handle rattled.
"Emily, honey? Are you in there?""
I crawled toward the door.
"I'm here!""
The handle turned.
But before the door opened, I heard Vanessa's voice from inside the house.
"Michael?""
A brief silence followed.
May you like
Then my father's voice.
"Vanessa, what is Emily doing in the garage?""
