The Glass Doll They Left Behind Chapter 2

When I opened my eyes again, all I saw was a very pale, very small girl floating in a tub of dark water.

Was this it? Was I already gone?

The front door opened. Willow’s high, excited laugh rang out.

“Aubrey! I’m home!”

I rushed out.

Mom and Dad walked in, holding Willow’s hands, Dad carrying a box for a strawberry birthday cake.

He paused, looking at the mess of the shattered pill bottles on the kitchen floor. “What is this?”

Mom’s brow furrowed in exhaustion. “She threw a tantrum at lunchtime.”

“She lied about being sick because I had to take Willow to her first day of school.”

Dad’s face hardened. “She’s getting completely out of hand.”

I tried to explain, waving my hands frantically in front of their faces. “No! It wasn’t on purpose! I wasn’t lying!”

My hand passed right through Dad’s shoulder. They didn’t feel a thing.

Willow ran to my bedroom door.

She knocked gently. “Aubrey, come on out! It’s cake time!”

Silence. Utter, complete silence from inside.

Willow looked up at Mom. “Is she sleeping?”

I floated close to my sister. “Thank you, Willow.”

Mom’s voice was cold. “Sleeping? She’s just trying to ignore us. Leave her. We’ll eat first.”

Dad set the cake on the kitchen island.

Willow peered at it, her small voice soft. “But I want to wait for Aubrey.”

Dad ripped open the box and exchanged a look with Mom. “If Aubrey were half as reasonable as you are, we’d both sleep a lot better.”

The five candles were pushed into the soft frosting and lit.

Mom hoisted Willow onto a stool, and under the spotlight of their gaze, she blew out the flickering flames.

It was Willow’s fifth birthday.

Mom smiled warmly. “Did you make a wish, sweetie?”

Willow’s eyes sparkled. “Yes! I wished that Aubrey—”

Dad quickly ruffled her hair. “Shh. Wishes don’t come true if you tell them, kiddo.”

I watched them from the edge of the counter. In previous years, my birthdays had always been heavy with the smell of hospital sanitizer and guilt. The candles on my cake were always a countdown.

But Willow’s birthday finally looked like a Normal Birthday.

When it came time to cut the cake, Willow insisted on the biggest slice. “This is for Aubrey!”

She carried the plate to my closed bedroom door and knocked again. “Aubrey, come share the strawberry cake with me!”

Still nothing.

The tiny smile on Willow’s face faded.

She returned to the island and whispered, “Aubrey won’t talk to me.”

Dad suddenly reached out, snatching the plate from Willow’s hand.

He didn't just move it; he slammed the perfect slice of strawberry cake and the plate into the garbage can.

“Fine,” he growled, hitting the table with his open palm. “Then no one eats it! No one calls her again. If she wants to act like this, she can starve until she decides to be a decent kid.”

Willow was terrified, her eyes instantly filling with tears.

Mom pulled her close, glaring at Dad. “Don’t yell at her!”

Then, she softened for Willow. “It’s okay, sweet girl. We’ll eat ours. When Aubrey figures out she’s being ridiculous, she’ll come out.”

I knelt by the trash can, staring at the discarded slice.

The strawberry on top was still glistening, but now it was mixed with damp paper towels. What a waste. It was my favorite.

Willow ate her small slice in quiet bites, constantly glancing at the closed bedroom door.

Mom and Dad ate in silence.

The dining table was meant for four, but one seat was empty.

I sat in that empty space and quietly wished Willow a happy birthday.