Chapter 2

Shortly after Mom left, I emerged from my body and flew back home.

Dad had just gotten home from work and only saw Mom.

"Where's Hannah? Why are you alone?"

Mom threw the Christmas gift I'd given her into the trash, saying angrily:

"Don't mention that jinx to me!"

"The little slut couldn't even dress properly in front of her brother's grave. Let her reflect on herself."

"If you weren't so busy all the time and actually raised her properly, she wouldn't have turned out like this!"

Hearing this, I panicked and cried out.

"Mom, no, it wasn't like that. I didn't mean to."

"The thorns tore my clothes. I didn't deliberately rip them to upset you..."

"Mom..."

But no one responded to me.

Dad fell silent, then soon turned and went to the living room to read the newspaper.

I could only swallow my grievance, wipe my tears, and follow Mom to the kitchen.

She took out several packages of wrapped gingerbread, then came to my bedroom and turned on the light.

"Hannah Sweetwater, why are you sleeping so early? Get up and help me deliver gingerbread!"

I waved my little hand from the side, trying to remind Mom.

"Mom, I'm right here!"

I tried to grab Mom's hand, but couldn't hold on no matter what.

That's when I realized.

I seemed to no longer exist.

Adults say that after people die, their souls follow their closest person.

So had I died?

Mom didn't respond to me. She had forgotten I was still at the grave.

But the next second she realized it and stormed out, slamming the door.

"What a jinx. Now I have to deal with this alone."

Every Christmas, Mom would dress me up prettily and accompany me to deliver homemade gingerbread to our neighbors in the village.

I followed Mom to the house next door.

Mrs. Peterson, our neighbor, was surprised to see only my mom.

"How come Hannah didn't come?"

"You really don't need to do this. You come every year. It feels awkward."

I was about to greet Mrs. Peterson when Mom frowned deeply.

She looked like she didn't want to mention me at all.

"That little slut misbehaved. I'm punishing her by making her kneel at her brother's grave."

Mrs. Peterson looked shocked.

"She's just a child. How can you call her that every day?"

"And Hannah has always been well-behaved. Even if she did something wrong, you can't punish her like this..."

"The temperature keeps dropping. It's ten degrees below zero today. Her body can't handle it. How can you make a child kneel in a place like that?"

"What do you mean 'a place like that'? That's my son's grave!"

Mom snatched the gingerbread from Mrs. Peterson's hands and turned to leave.

"Making that little slut kneel there to keep vigil for her brother is already going easy on her!"

"I survived the cold when I was little. How could anything happen to her from a little cold like this?"

Mrs. Peterson watched Mom's determined back and sighed deeply.

Worried, she grabbed some clothes and headed up the mountain to the grave.

Mrs. Peterson was usually very kind to me. She must be going to find me.

But I was already dead. She wouldn't be able to find me.