Shattered by Melody Carlson Read Free Book Online Page A

whether or not my life goes on. I simply don’t have the energy for it.
    I try to remember the things I used to feel passionate about, wondering if anything will ever be worth caring about again. Ballet used to be so important to me. And I had been over the moon about dancing the lead role in June’s ballet recital. But now I know I can’t do it... don’t want to do it... don’t care.
    And I used to care about school, making good grades, going to college next year. Now it’s unimaginable. Even Daniel Crane, the nicest guy and my major crush who doesn’t seem to know I exist, seems uninteresting to me now. Boring even.
    I begin to walk through the silent house, absently wandering from room to room, feeling like a stranger in my own home. Or maybe I’m having an out-of-body experience, like I’m not really here at all.
    Is this how it feels to be dead? Maybe I really am dead. Maybe I’ve got this all wrong. Maybe it was me who was murdered last night. After all, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Surely it was me who was killed. Not my mom. She would never make a mistake like that.
    Yes, I decide, I’m the one who is dead. And now, because I’m not welcome in heaven, I am a ghost destined to walk and haunt this house forever. Yes, it all makes sense.
     

. . . [CHAPTER 7] . . . . . . . . . . . .
     
    “B ut I really think Karen would want us all to go to church today.” Aunt Kellie says this for what seems the umpteenth time. I’m not sure if she thinks we’re deaf or just dumb. But I’m pretty sure we’ve already made ourselves clear on the subject.
    “Then you go to church.” Dad refills his coffee mug. “Because I am not going to church today, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s the last I want to hear of it.”
    “Sorry,” I say quietly to her. “I just don’t feel like going either.”
    Aunt Kellie sighs loudly. “Okay, if you’re both sure...”
    Dad turns to me. “I hope I’m not influencing you the wrong way, Cleo. I know your mother probably would want you to go to church.”
    “I think she’d understand given the circumstances.”
    He nods sadly. “Yeah...”
    The lump is back in my throat again. Seeing my dad standing there in his bare feet and faded plaid bathrobe, unshaven, dark shadows beneath his eyes, gray messy hair with an ever-widening bald spot... well, he just looks so lost and gloomy. And I don’t think he’s any more pleased than I am that Aunt Kellie seems determined to park herself in our midst.
    She fixed breakfast this morning, but Dad and I both barely touched it. And as she went on and on about what a saint her sister was—and we did not argue—I could tell it was only making Dad feel worse.
    As far as I know, my parents never had a romantic fairy tale kind of marriage, but they did like and respect each other. My dad has always traveled a lot for his work, and my mom always tried to make his times at home as easy and comfortable as possible. She’d fix his favorite foods, pick up after him, and when it was time to leave again, she would pack his suitcase with freshly laundered and neatly pressed clothes. She even ironed his boxers.
    In fact, Lola was always telling me just how easy my dad had it. Quite a contrast from her mother, where all work was supposed to be shared fifty-fifty, although Vera always complained it was not balanced.
    “Your mom totally spoils both of you,” Lola would often tell me. I know she was partly jealous and partly amused. But it was true. My mom did spoil us. She cooked, cleaned, did laundry, shopped for groceries, and baked cookies, along with a million other little unseen things I’m afraid both Dad and I never appreciated enough.
    “I’ve got some things I need to attend to today.” Dad clears his throat in a way that tells me these are not pleasant things. I suspect he is going to speak to the police, perhaps identify the body, or maybe make funeral arrangements. I do not know and I do not want to know. “Will