Chapter 4

Ava used to be my mom’s best friend.

It’s a story as old as time. My mom spent the best years of her life building a future with my dad, only to be betrayed by him and her closest friend once he became successful.

My mom always believed the only reason Ava "won" was because she had a son.

And so, she blamed me for the divorce.

I don’t know how my mom eventually found the warehouse.

When she saw what was left of me, she froze. Everything about her—her breathing, her expression, even her heartbeat—seemed to stop.

She gathered my broken body in her arms. I don’t know how long she sat there before she finally reached out to gently close my lifeless, unblinking eyes.

Her face was emotionless the entire time. No tears, no sobbing. Just a hollow, empty stare.

I laughed bitterly to myself. Whenever she talked about the son she lost, her face was never this cold.

Maybe now that I was gone, her life would be easier. She could start over, build a new family, have the children she had always wanted.

It had to be easier, right?

But my mom didn’t call the police. Instead, she carefully wrapped my remains and took me back to her shop.

At dawn, she called my teacher to report my absence.

"Hi, this is Jane’s mom. She’s sick and will need a few days off. Don’t worry, it won’t affect her studies."

I wasn’t sick. My mom was.

She went about her day as usual, preparing breakfast and lunch. She banged on my bedroom door, shouting,

"Food’s in the fridge, make sure you heat it up before you eat!

And there’s money on the table if you need it. You’re so skinny—eat more!"

She left for six days.

On the night of my seventh day—the night when spirits are said to return one last time—she stood before my shrine.

And my mom, with her own hands, offered up the life of one of the men who had destroyed me as a sacrifice.