I Froze to Death While You Argued A Child’s Ghost Tells the Truth

My parents remarried, each starting new families with stepchildren older than me.

They always told me to be sensible. To learn to take care of myself.

Today I have a fever. The thermometer reads 101.8F.

My vision blurs from the heat. I use my kids' smartwatch to call them.

Mom tells me to call Dad insteadshe's at school dealing with something for my stepsister.

Dad tells me to call Mom insteadhe's in the countryside visiting relatives with my stepbrother.

I say okay, like the good girl I am, and walk alone into the freezing cold.

Maybe they'll never know.

Children who are too well-behaved leave quietly.

So quietly that no one hears them go.

1.

I live alone in the old bungalow my parents built when they were still married.

It's tinyjust one bedroom, a cramped kitchen, and a bathroom so small I can barely turn around.

Last night's instant noodle cup still sits on the table, waiting to be thrown away.

I curl up under my blanket, counting the cracks in the wall.

My feet went numb hours ago. My fingers ache from the cold.

I remember the little space heater Mom gave me two years ago.

"Use it when winter gets cold," she said.

I never turned it on. Not once.

Because I know electricity costs money.

And they always taught me that living alone means learning to save.

I drag myself out of bed and find the unopened box in the corner.

I tear it open, pull out the heater, plug it in.

Nothing. No warmth. No glow.

I crouch on the floor, trying to figure out what's wrong.

But I don't know how to fix it. I don't have any tools.

So I pack it back into the box and return it to the corner.

It's not that cold. I can tough it out.

I crawl back under the covers, but I've overestimated how much cold I can take.

By the time the sky begins to lighten, my head feels thick and heavy.

Then I remember what Dad taught me.

When you feel sick, take your temperature.

I dig the thermometer out from the back of my drawer.

Shake it hard. Tuck it under my arm.

When I pull it out: 101.3F.

So I do have a fever...

I lie back down, but sleep won't come.

I hold on like this for two more hours.

Three times I get up to pour myself water. Each time I spill some because my hands won't stop shaking.

I try reciting multiplication tables. Passages from my textbooks. Anything to distract myself.

But the numbers and words tangle together in my head, blurring into nothing.

I check my temperature again.

I stare at the number for a long time.

102.2F.

Fear grips me.

What happens if the fever keeps climbing?

What if I never see Mom and Dad again?

I reach for the smartwatch on my pillow.

They bought it for me together, back in third grade.

I've treasured it ever since. Used it all these years.

I call Mom first.

It rings several times before she picks up.

"Mom, I have a fever."

My voice comes out so hoarse I barely recognize it.

"What? Oh..." Mom sounds distracted, rushed. "I'm at school with your sister right nowshe got into a fight with a classmate, and the teacher called me in. Can you try your dad?"

In the background, I hear another voice. My stepsister. She sounds annoyed.

Then I hear Mom say to her: "Look at your little sisterso well-behaved, never gives me any trouble."

"You're this old and still causing problems."

Something in my chest twists. Sharp. Sudden.

"Mom, I really don't feel well..."

I try one more time.

"Be good, sweetie. Call your dad first. I'll call you back as soon as I'm done here, okay?"

The call disconnected.

I stared at my watch screen for a moment, then dialed Dad's number.

This time, he picked up faster.

"Sweetie? What's wrong?"

"Dad, I have a fever."

I repeated what I'd just told Mom.

"A fever? Did you take any medicine?"

His voice held concern, but he was driving and couldn't give me his full attention.

"We're out of medicine at home."

"I see..."

"Dad's out in the countryside with your brother visiting relatives right now. I can't get back anytime soon."

"Why don't you call your mom? Have her take you to get checked out?"

A young man's voice came through from his end. "Dad, Uncle Joseph Fox Joseph's calling you!"

"Alright, I'll call him back in a bit."

Dad acknowledged him, then said to me, "You're always such a good girl. Can you find your mom first? I'll bring you back something yummy."

He hung up too.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at my phone watch.

Then I looked up and smiled. "Dad said I was good again."

I struggled to my feet and started getting dressed.

First a sweater, then a padded jacket.

Both were styles from years ago, a little too small now.

Why was there only one sock?

Where was the other one?

Forget it. I wouldn't look for it.

I remembered how to get to the hospital.

Out of the alley, turn right, cross two intersections, then turn left.

I pushed open the door.

Wind and snow hit my face instantly, cold enough to cut to the bone.

I walked into the snow, counting my steps.

Just like counting sheep when I couldn't sleep as a little kid.

The alley wasn't long. Usually it only took three minutes to walk through.

But today it felt like forever.

By the time I reached the alley entrance, I was gasping so hard I had to lean against the wall to rest.

I walked for maybe another ten minutes. No sign of the hospital.

The streets grew narrower, the people fewer.

The markers Mom and Dad had made for me.

For some reason, they had all vanished without a trace.

I wanted to turn back, but when I did, the path I'd come from was already buried under snow.

I turned in circles, again and again.

I opened my mouth to call out, but no sound came.

I wanted to cry, but my tears seemed frozen too.

Was I going to die?

When would they notice I was gone?

Tomorrow? The day after?

Or never?

My watch rang. Mom was calling.

But I could no longer answer.

The snow fell heavier and heavier, gradually covering my body.

Strangely, I didn't feel cold anymore.

That bone-deep chill had disappeared at some point.

My body felt light, weightless.

I slowly closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, I found myself floating in midair.

So this was what death was like.

I wasn't sad. If anything, I felt a little relieved.

Because I was finally warm, and I didn't have to count the cracks in the wall waiting for dawn anymore.

I drifted through the alley and stopped at the school gate.

Mom was walking out of the teaching building, her expression dark.

My sister trailed a few steps behind her.

Her eyes were red and puffy, still sniffling.

"Can't you give me a break for once?"

Mom didn't turn around. "You're in middle school now, and you're still getting into fights with classmates?"

"She started it. She said things about me..."

My sister's voice was thick with tears.

"So what if she said things? That means you should hit her?"

I floated to Mom's side and whispered softly.

"She knows she was wrong, Mom. Please forgive her."

But my voice scattered in the wind. She couldn't hear me.

They kept walking, one in front, one behind.

Mom walked fast. My sister had to half-run to keep up.

When they reached the intersection, the light turned red, and Mom finally stopped.

She turned around and looked at my sister.

After a long moment, Mom sighed.

"Are you hungry?"

Her voice softened suddenly.

My sister nodded.

"Come on, let's get you something to eat."

Mom took my sister's hand again and led her forward.

They walked into the Pizza Hut on the corner.

Warm golden light, the aroma of food, a thin layer of fog clinging to the windows.

Mom ordered pizza, chicken wings, and a hot chocolate for my sister.

For herself, just a coffee.

My sister ate in small bites, stealing glances at Mom every now and then.

Mom stirred her coffee, her tone gentle but serious. "Don't do that again, okay?"

"Okay," my sister whispered.

"Eat up."

I floated outside the window, my face pressed against the glass.

Steam rose from the pizza, cheese stretching into long golden strands.

The chicken wings were crispy and golden, the hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream and marshmallows.

What did it taste like?

I'd never had any of it.

Mom always said fast food was unhealthy.

Dad said we'd go when my brother's birthday came around.

The scene blurred and shifted.

When it cleared, I was in an unfamiliar courtyard.

Brick houses, red lanterns.

Three or four banquet tables were set up in the middle.

Dad sat at the main table, clinking glasses with a few men around his age.

His face was flushed, his laughter easy.

"Your oldest is really making something of himself!"

"Oh, pleaseyour son's the impressive one!"

My brother sat beside Dad, a new phone in his hands.

The screen was huge, flashing with the glow of a game.

Dad leaned over to look, then patted his shoulder.

"Don't play too much. It's bad for your eyes."

My brother didn't look up. "I know."

But Dad was still smiling.

I drifted closer, peering at the phone.

It was the latest model. Really expensive.

Last week was my birthday. Dad said he'd get me one next time.

Then he sent a set of practice workbooks instead.

I touched my wrist.

There was nothing there anymore, but I still remembered the feel of my phone watch.

"My brother's phone looks so clunky. Mine was way more convenient."

Still, no one could hear me.

As the sky darkened, my brother fell asleep beside Dad, phone still glowing in his hands.

My sister dozed off against Mom's shoulder.

It wasn't until the taxi driver started chatting with Mom about having a second child.

Mom paused, caught off guard.

And finally remembered mestill sick at home.

She pulled out her phone and called Dad.

The phone rang for a long time before he picked up.

"Hello? Who's this?"

Mom opened her mouth, but the words that came out weren't the ones she'd planned.

"You've been drinking again?"

"Huh?" Dad sounded confused for a second, then laughed.

"What, we've been divorced for years and you're still keeping tabs on whether I drink?"

"Can you be serious for once? I need to ask you something."

"How am I not serious? You're the one calling late at night just to check up on me."

"I'm not checking up on you! I wanted to ask"

"Ask what? How I'm doing? Don't worry, I'm a lot happier than when I was with you."

Mom's voice shot up. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

"You know exactly what it means."

And just like that, they were fighting.

Out of nowhere, dragging up years of buried grievances.

Mom's eyes glistened with furious tears. She hung up and sat there, seething in silence.

I floated to her side, wanting to comfort her.

My sister woke up, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. "Mom? What's wrong?"

Mom pulled my sister into her arms.

"I'm fine, sweetie. Just saw a touching video online."

My sister nestled against her shoulder and drifted back to sleep almost instantly.

Mom held that position, not moving an inch.

I floated over to Dad's side.

He was staring at his phone, the call long ended, his face blank.

My brother patted his back, trying to comfort him. "Dad, don't let it get to you. She's not worth it."

Dad shook his head and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

He lit a cigarette and stood in the courtyard, smoking in the cold.

"I want to bring your sister back"

He started to say something, then stopped.

"Hm?" My brother looked at him curiously.

"Nothing. Go inside. It's cold out here."

In that moment, I finally felt how unnecessary I was.

If I just... disappeared.

Would it actually make things easier for them?

Back at home, Mom got my sister settled into bed.

She picked up her phone. Her finger hovered over my name for a long time.

Finally, she pressed call.

No answer. Mom frowned.

"That girl. Fell asleep without even checking her phone."

Dawn hadn't fully broken when Mom got up.

She spent ages in the kitchen.

I caught the smell of braised pork bellymy absolute favorite. But Mom always said it was too much trouble to make, so she only cooked it once or twice a year.

She filled the thermos container to the brim.

Then she grabbed a few apples from the fridge and tucked them into a bag alongside it.

Meanwhile, Dad was waking up on his end.

He sat up with a splitting headache. After dropping my brother off, he passed a bakery.

He pulled over and went inside, came out with a bag.

I floated closer to look. Chestnut-filled buns. Old-fashioned cream bread.

All my favorites too.

Dad arrived first.

He parked outside the hospital and hurried into the lobby.

The registration desk had a long line. He squeezed his way to the payment counter.

"Excuse mewas there a little girl named Erica Fox who came in yesterday afternoon?"

"About this tall, thin, with her mother?"

Nurse Hannah Reed checked the computer. "No record of that."

"No record? That's impossible. She had a fever over 102..."

"Sir, there really isn't anyone by that name."

"Maybe try the emergency department?"

Dad rushed to the ER.

Same question. Same answer.

Just then, Mom walked in carrying the thermos.

She spotted Dad immediately and hurried over.

"Where's our baby girl? Is she feeling better?"

"I told you to spend more time with her lately. Have you been too busy sucking up to your new wife?"

"What kind of thing is that to say? What do you mean, 'sucking up'?"

"I should be asking you! Where is she?"

Dad's voice was strained with panic. "I just asked the staffthey said you never even came to the hospital!"

"How is that possible? Didn't you bring her?"

Mom stared at him, her face draining of color.

"Me? I thought you brought her!"

When they realized neither of them had been with me all day, the panic finally set in.

Mom wanted to find a nurse and get answers.

Dad stopped her. "What's the point? I already asked."

"They said there's no registration. No record at all!"

Mom's face went white as paper.

She refused to believe it. She rushed to the nurses' station, her voice shaking.

"Pleasecheck again. My daughter, Erica Fox. She might have come in yesterday morning."

"She had a fever. She was alone..."

The nurse checked again. Shook her head.

The thermos slipped from Mom's hands and hit the floor with a heavy thud.

The lid popped off. Braised pork scattered across the tiles.

Dad gripped the bag so tightly his knuckles went white, fear slowly creeping into his eyes.

He couldn't bear to imagine itme, burning with fever in the dead of winter.

If I wasn't at the hospital, where else could I be?

Then it hit them. The bungalow.

Without a word, they rushed out.

The door swung open, and Mom called out, her voice raw and cracking: "Sweetie, are you home?"

Dad didn't hesitate. He charged into the bedroom, straight to the bed.

When he saw I wasn't there, his whole body went rigid.

"Where is she? Where's my daughter? Yougive me back my daughter!!"

Mom grabbed his collar, screaming.

When he didn't answer, she crumpled into a chair, sobbing uncontrollably.

That's when Dad's phone rang.

He pulled it out mechanically, glanced at the screenand his pupils contracted.

Mom leaned in. Her breath stopped.

A familiar number glowed on the display.

My smartwatch.

They exchanged a look, relief and hope flooding their faces. They thought it was me calling.

Mom urged him to answer, quickly.

The moment he picked up, a stranger's voice came throughcalm, official.

"Is this the family of Erica Fox?"

"This is the Police Precinct. We need you to come in for questioning."