Page 68 of All the Things We Buried

“Somewhere near the graveyards,” I sniffled. “I’m scared. It happened again. The voices… they told me again. To cut. To chop.”

He was silent for a moment before clearing his throat. “Lenore. You will be okay. You have to pray. Do you hear me?”

“Y-yes,” I whispered.

“I’m coming to get you.”

I crushed the phone beneath my heel, ending the call. My father’s voice disappeared into the silence.

I looked at Sophie. I pressed two fingers to her mouth and forced it open.

“Smile.”

“That’s what you always told me. Smile,” I whispered. “I faked it.”

I let out a slow breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “I was hurt, Sophie.” A tear slid down my cheek. “When our best friend died, you were out having fun. I stayed behind, crying until I couldn’t anymore. And then you told my dad it was me.”

I sniffed hard. My throat tightened. “Do you remember when we were six? Playing with the dollhouse in that locked room? The one Dad never let anyone into? The three of us promised we would always be there for each other, even after death. When the nightmares came, we swore we would never be alone.”

I choked on the memory. “But we aren’t kids anymore.”

I shook my head slowly. “Still, I’m taking you somewhere now. Somewhere, you can be a child again. A place where time never moves forward. You’ll be stuck, just like I am.”

I stepped farther away from her body and stared into the woods. “Everyone dies. That’s the truth of life. Some sooner than others. But when you die with unfinished pain, you become something else. You become the thing that haunts.”

I turned back to her lifeless eyes. “Now you really can blame me. Because now… it finally happened to both of us.”

I kept walking, my feet dragging through the dirt and leaves until I saw my father waiting along the path. He didn’t speak. He just wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, gently. Then we walked home together, side by side, as if nothing had happened.

The teeth were still in my hand. I had not let go. The roots dug into my skin, sharp and unforgiving.

When you grow up alone, surrounded by ghosts, you become one. When your home is broken, you break in return. And when you have no one, you learn to trust no one.

But I had someone. Dorian. He wasn’t a ghost, even though he was broken, the same way I was. He was the only person I could trust.

And she tried to take that away from me.

I couldn’t let that happen.

Father punished me for what happened. He always does.

And this time, Dorian wasn’t there to heal me. No one can heal your wounds. Only you can.

I turned the water on and let the bath begin to fill. Steam gathered quickly, curling around me, wrapping the room in fog. I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

I was still there.

I could still see myself. And somehow, that was worse than disappearing.

Nothing changes. Not on the outside.

But inside, something had died.

Tears began to fall. My eyes blurred, and then I saw the razor. Without thinking, I reached for it. The blade kissed my skin as I carved the word:

“Smile.”

Tears kept falling. Another word followed.