Chapter 6

The first spring rain soaked the moldy smell in Olivia's apartment, making it even stronger. I floated behind Asher, watching him crouch on the floor, gently wiping the fondue pot stains from the cotton dress with a soft cloth. The cheap dye bled when wet, creating an ugly purple-black stain on the hem, exactly like the color in the bathtub on the day I died. "Clara, look here." He poked the stain with his fingertip, his voice trembling like a spiderweb in the wind. "I actually felt satisfaction back then, thought you deserved to be treated like that..." The rain tapped against the window outside, mixing with his suppressed sobs, weaving an impenetrable net in the empty room. He dragged an old suitcase from under the bed. It was the one I brought when we got married, which Olivia had thrown into the storage room. The lock still bore the cross she'd drawn with lipstick. Inside was my high school diary. He opened the yellowed pages, his fingers tracing a passage of messy handwritin