Mom, I Don't Blame You Anymore

"Alright," Dad said, his voice softening. "I'll make Willow apologize to you for what she did wrong. Let's eat first. If we starve her, you'll only end up feeling bad about it again."

Mom looked away, but still reached for four sets of plates and cutlery, and even the little cat-shaped spoon I had always wanted. My heart softened a little.

That was just how she was. She could sound harsh, but she meant well.

Dad opened my room door. It was empty. "Hey, Willow isn't in her room. Did she hide somewhere because she's upset?"

He immediately turned and headed toward the laundry room.

"She's gone too far this time. Don't go looking for her!" Mom spat out, fury blazing in her eyes. "Let's see how long she can hide. She barely gets scolded and already throws a tantrum like this."

She slammed the cutlery down onto the table. "She must've gone out to find her friends. Can you imagine? A girl her age, running off to play as if nothing had happened, just after hurting her sister. She's just wicked."

The little cat-shaped spoon snapped when it hit the table.

I lowered my eyes, my transparent hands clenched so tightly they nearly twisted into knots. Mom still hadn't realized that I had long stopped having any friends.

Kids were always realistic like that. They knew exactly whose side adults were on and who had no one backing them up.

Ever since what happened at the birthday party, they had started picking on me, tripping me with their feet, and pushing me down the stairs. When the teacher reprimanded them, they would all put on innocent faces.

But I endured all of that because I didn't want to cause trouble for Mom. However, when I found out they were also bullying Maple, I grabbed them by the hair and fought them hard.

From that day on, the bullying I received doubled. Still, I wasn't afraid. As long as Maple was safe, it didn't matter how badly I got beaten.

To keep Dad from looking for me, Mom took more than a dozen sets of new clothes from a shopping bag. "Hey, Hector, take a look at these. What do you think of them?"

"Did you buy these for the girls? Let Willow try them when she comes home," Dad said with a smile.

I leaned in, too. They were really pretty. Every single piece looked like something I would wear.

Mom's smile faded. She snatched the clothes back from Dad. "These are all for Maple. Willow already has enough clothes. She doesn't deserve to wear anything this nice."

A wave of humiliation suddenly washed over the faint trace of joy I had just felt. I drifted instinctively into the corner, as if I could hide myself there.

What was I even thinking? Maple was so pitiful. Of course, Mom was right to buy things for her. Besides, I was already… dead. Otherwise, it would've been wasted. Mom was really smart like that.

I grinned to myself, but my throat tightened for no reason.

"These clothes still need to be washed first," Mom said. "They can't be given to Maple directly. She might get an allergic reaction. Oh, I can't wait! She'll look like the prettiest little princess in them!"

She folded the clothes in her arms and walked toward the laundry room.

Oh, no. My chest tightened.

I quickly drifted into the washing machine and looked at my curled-up body inside. What could I do? I looked hideous! I would definitely scare Mom—what if she had nightmares because of me?

Back when I was alive, I used to stick around Mom. Now that I was dead, would Maple still get up in the middle of the night to bring her a cup of warm honey water as I did?

Mom's footsteps slowly inched closer…