Chapter 5: Death in Red

The next morning, rooster crowing still echoing, Mom’s scream shot through the trailer park, sharp enough to cut glass.

I tumbled out of bed, feet hitting the cold linoleum.

My sister-in-law had hanged herself.

She was wearing a cherry-red prom dress, the kind you find at Goodwill, hanging limp from her shoulders. The rope creaked softly as she swung from the beam, her hair spilling over her face.

Mom grabbed me and dragged me over, her fingernails digging in, forcing me to take her down.

I stared at the corpse, terrified, backing away so fast my bare feet scraped the rough floor. I couldn’t do it.

Mom beat me with her fists and feet, every blow practiced. I shielded my head, sobbing, "Stop, Mom, I’ll do it!"

Only then did she stop, panting hard.

My hands shook so bad I nearly dropped her. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but I couldn’t. Not with Mom watching. Cold sweat soaked my shirt as I touched my sister-in-law’s body. It wasn’t stiff at all—still warm and slippery, like a live fish.

My scalp prickled. I tried not to think about how her skin seemed to ripple under my hands, but Mom cursed at me to hurry or she’d get the belt.

I gritted my teeth and took her down, dragging her limp body, praying for it to be over.

Mom looked at the body with a sigh, annoyed. "Drag her to the old cemetery behind the Baptist church."

But my brother, spoon halfway to his mouth, finally spoke up. "Mom, she died in an unlucky way. Let’s have Uncle Marcus take a look first. People talk."

Uncle Marcus was the only one folks called when things went sideways. Mom hesitated, gnawing her lip, then agreed, "Fine. Let him look. I ain’t scared, but I won’t risk you, my baby boy."

Watching their little show of love, my chest ached. In her eyes, only my brother mattered. I was just a mutt—less than that, even.