A House of Silver and Silence Chapter 2

After I died, it felt like my soul was trapped in that shack, drifting in the dark.

I saw the news reports. The Lowell family tore the city apart looking for me. My mother collapsed, my grandmother aged ten years in a single night, and Wyatt smashed half the furniture in the living room. Madeline knelt in the foyer, sobbing, saying she was sorry she hadn't watched me closely enough. Everyone felt sorry for her.

Only I knew. I remembered the way her hand didn't even shake when she handed the cash to the man in the van.

Now, I was back. It was my fifth birthday. I was sitting in my bedroom, surrounded by expensive toys. The door opened. Madeline entered, her white sundress fluttering, a soft smile on her face.

"Sera, I made you a strawberry cake."

I stared at her. I felt sick. When she reached out to hug me, I scrambled backward, hitting the headboard.

She froze. My mother, grandmother, and several of my brothers were in the room, and their eyes turned toward us. Madeline’s hand stayed suspended in the air. She quickly forced a laugh. "Sera? What’s wrong, sweetie? Don't you want your sister?"

As she leaned closer, I screamed. It wasn't a word; it was a raw, broken sound that tore from my throat. I pushed her and scrambled into my grandmother’s arms, clutching her silk blouse as if my life depended on it.

"Sera?" Grandmother gasped, startled.

I looked back at Madeline. She stood there, her eyes welling with tears. "Is it because I’ve been so busy with my engagement party lately? Does she think I’ve been ignoring her?"

My mother immediately went to comfort her. "Children are temperamental, Madeline. Don't take it to heart."

Wyatt frowned at me. "Sera usually follows you like a shadow."

Madeline wiped her eyes, the picture of the grieving, misunderstood sister. "It’s okay. If she doesn't want to be held, I won't force it. I’ll just have to win her back slowly."

She looked at me and smiled—a tiny, thin thing. Only I could see the coldness behind it. It was the same look she gave me right before the van door slammed shut in my previous life.

From that day on, I became her shadow in a different way. I watched her. If she came near, I moved. If she touched my food, I wouldn't eat it. If she tried to give me a toy, I threw it across the room. When she offered to tuck me in, I clung to my mother’s neck until I was gasping for air.

The worst was when she tried to take me to the garden to see a new swing set. The moment she bent down to pick me up, I dropped to the floor and wrapped my arms around the heavy mahogany banister, refusing to let go. My mother was heartbroken, convinced I was suffering from some new, deep-seated anxiety.

Grandmother sensed something was wrong. She stroked my hair and whispered, "Sera, do you not like your sister?"

I nodded. I nodded so hard it hurt. I wanted to tell her: It’s not that I don't like her. It’s that she’s going to kill me. But all that came out was a series of ragged, hushing breaths.

Madeline stood nearby, her face pale. She didn't get angry. Instead, she took two steps back and said softly, "Grandmother, maybe Sera is just going through a phase. Perhaps I should stay out of her way for a while."

Her grace made me look like a brat. Arthur looked at me, then at her, his brow furrowed. "She was never like this before."

Madeline gave a bitter smile. "It’s my fault. Children don't reject people for no reason. I must have done something to upset her without realizing it."

She took all the blame, making my mother feel even more protective of her. I was desperate. I wanted to scream, Don't believe her! She's a liar!

In my first life, she spent every day painting with me before she sold me. She taught me how to write my name on a whiteboard. She told me, "Sera, if you ever miss me, just draw a flower, and I'll know." In that trafficking den, I drew flowers on the wall with stones until my fingers bled. Nobody came.

This time, I wouldn't let her touch a single thing that belonged to me.