Chapter 3

A heavy boot slammed into my back.

I plunged headfirst into the freezing water.

The icy winter water soaked through my thin clothes in an instant. The cold bit into my skin like a thousand needles. I couldn't stop shivering.

My father stood over me, his face twisted in a rictus of rage. A shaking finger pointed down at my wet, trembling form. "Sure enough—a jinx is cold-blooded! Your grandmother died buying that for you, and you have the nerve to wash it? Do you have no conscience?"

Teeth chattering, I hugged the sodden schoolbag to my chest. "Grandma... she bought it for me. I just... I wanted to wash it clean for her."

My mother scoffed from the doorway. "A jinx has no human warmth. You only care about yourself."

She crossed her arms. "I'm telling you now—washing it is useless. Your father and I aren't sending you to school. We aren't going to care for you, either. You can rot for all we care."

Dad kicked a small metal basin toward me. It clattered against the stones. "Since you like washing so much, fetch hot water. Go wipe your grandmother's body and change her clothes."

My eyes lit up. *I can see Grandma?*

I scrambled up, nodding frantically. "Okay. I'll go. I'll clean Grandma right now."

Aunt Faith stepped forward, blocking my path. Disbelief was etched into every line of her face as she looked at my father. "The child is too young! All that blood... it will traumatize her."

My father sneered. "She caused this evil—she has to bear it. What? You feel sorry for her? Aren't you afraid she'll curse you next?"

Fear flickered in Aunt Faith's eyes. She stepped back.

Dragging my dripping wet body, I filled a basin with hot water and staggered into the main hall.

Everyone had warned me I would be scared. But fear didn't come. Only a crushing ache that made it hard to breathe.

Grandma's face was masked in dried blood. Half of her body was a mangled mess of flesh and bone, resembling nothing like the warm woman who had raised me.

Suffocating. I was suffocating.

I dipped the towel in the water and began to wipe her face. Gently. Again and again.

The clear water turned crimson. I went to the kitchen, changed the water, and returned. I didn't count how many times I ran back and forth. I refused to stop until her face was clean.

But her body... the damage was too severe. No matter how much I wiped, the blood kept coming. The flesh was ruined.

Watching me work without flinching, my mother's revulsion grew.

"Look at her," she hissed. "She really is a monster. A normal child would be screaming. She doesn't even look scared. She's not human."

Dad spat on the floor. "Cold-blooded animal. Why would you expect her to have feelings?"

Finally, an elderly aunt couldn't watch anymore. She gently took the towel from my hand. "Naomi... you can't wipe that clean. The injury is too deep. Just help us put her clothes on."

With her help, I dressed Grandma in her burial clothes.

As the adrenaline faded, black spots danced across my vision. The room tilted. I collapsed to the floor.

When I woke up, my head was throbbing. My skin felt like it was on fire.

I was still in my wet clothes. They had dried stiff and cold against my skin, making me shiver violently. The pungent stench of manure filled my nose. A glance around confirmed it—I had been thrown into the cowshed.

Panic surged. *Grandma.*

I scrambled to my feet, stumbling toward the main hall. But Grandma was gone.

The bed in the center of the room had been replaced by a heavy black coffin.

My father knelt on the floor dressed in white mourning robes, burning paper money in a brazier.

A wail tore from my throat. "Grandma! Where is she? Why is she gone? Grandma!"

*Slap!*

My father's hand struck my face, silencing me. "What are you screaming for? You cursed her to death, and you still won't let her rest?"

"Shut up!"

His roar usually turned me to stone. But today, grief was stronger than fear.

I screamed back. "I want to find Grandma! Where is she? Where did you put her?"

My mother stood up. Her fingers dug into my arm as she yanked me toward the black box. "Your grandmother is in the coffin! They nailed it shut."

Her voice was cold. Final.

"You will never see her again."