Chapter 6: The Red Dress in the Rafters

The next morning, I was jolted awake by my brother’s screams. The sound shot through the house, raw and panicked. I bolted upright, adrenaline surging, before my brain could catch up. The cold morning light slanted through the blinds.

I tumbled out of bed and saw the woman was dead—she’d hanged herself, dressed in a vivid red prom dress, her face dark and her tongue grotesquely sticking out. Her body hung from the attic beam, the old red prom dress—probably from a thrift store bin—blazing against the faded wallpaper. Her feet barely brushed the floor. The sight was so surreal, I had to blink to be sure it was real.

My legs gave out and I collapsed to the ground. The cold floorboards pressed against my knees as I gasped for breath. My hands shook uncontrollably.

Before I could recover, Uncle Frank entered with a grim face. He stomped snow off his boots before coming inside, leaving muddy prints on the linoleum. He strode in, heavy boots thumping, shoulders hunched beneath his battered jacket. He took one look at the scene and set his jaw, lines deepening around his mouth.

He walked up to the woman’s corpse, examined it for a while, then took a deep breath and looked at my mother. “Where did this woman come from?”

He bent close, inspecting the knot and the bruises on her skin. His voice was all business, no warmth, as he turned to Momma. The question hung in the air, sharp as a knife.

My mother tried to brush it off. “She’s just a distant cousin, on my mama’s side. Showed up outta nowhere.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes, fiddling with the frayed edge of her shirt. She always tried to lie her way out, especially when Frank showed up.

Uncle Frank clearly didn’t buy it. He narrowed his eyes at her, his voice even lower. “I’ll ask you again—where did this woman come from?”

The way he stared at her made even me flinch. His voice dropped to a near growl, and Momma finally wilted, shoulders sagging.

His stare was so sharp my mother trembled and didn’t dare lie again. She looked at the floor, wringing her hands, barely breathing. Even Derek stayed quiet.

“She came to us herself. I saw she was pretty and thought I’d make her Derek’s wife. Who knew she’d be so desperate?”

Momma spat out the words, her pride wounded. She shot the woman a look of disgust, as if blaming her for everything that had gone wrong.

My mother looked at the woman with contempt. “Putting on a show for nothing. No luck at all.” She sneered, rolling her eyes, refusing to accept any blame. Her words echoed in the dead silence of the room.

Uncle Frank snapped, “Enough.” He cut her off with a single word, voice sharp as breaking glass. The room froze.

Frightened, my mother instantly fell silent. She pressed her lips together, retreating to the corner of the room, eyes fixed on the floor. No one dared speak.