Chapter Nine
MONROE
Dear Diary,
The atmosphere felt different today. Charged.
I’ve been a mortician for the last five years and not once have I been freaked out.
But today I felt like I was being watched.
There aren’t any windows or cameras in the preparation room, so it was just me, the freezers, and the deceased.
But all day, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was there with me, watching.
The worst part? It wasn’t unease that I felt, but excitement.
What does that say about me? I have to be losing my grip.
Sunlight starts to pour into the room of my little house. There’s no real need for me to close the curtains since I live behind my parents’ house, and the forest is all around us. I love waking up with the natural light shining in.
After pulling myself from bed and stretching out my muscles, I strip the soft fabric of my nightgown and jump in the shower.
I move through my morning routine, showering, shaving, and blow-drying my hair.
I decide on a pretty, pure-white eyelet summer dress that hangs just below my knees and is appropriate for work.
It’s kind of ballsy to wear white to work, but today I’m doing cosmetics and dressing, and I’ll wear my PPE anyway.
The feeling of having eyes on me that I felt throughout the day yesterday hasn’t been with me today, which is comforting. It must truly be my mind at play while at work. Even so, I’m eager to get in today.
I brew myself a cup of coffee, pouring it over ice and adding my favorite caramel syrup and whipped cream. My coffee habits change with the seasons, and through summer, I’m all about the homemade caramel iced coffees.
Before heading into the mortuary, I jog up the back steps of my family home and let myself in with my key. Like usual, it’s a madhouse. We’re a family of early morning risers, and today is no exception.
The scent of sizzling ham and eggs wafts through the house as I make my way to the kitchen.
Miles and Wyatt are already arguing over who gets to play the new sports game on the VR, and Lucy and Hazel are fighting over a hairbrush, even though they each have their own.
I look for my two other brothers, Atticus and Cooper, and find them sitting at the bar with a plate of food.
My dad works to sling breakfast, and I walk up to him with a cheesy grin. This man loves being a father, and I swear, I think he’d add more if they could afford it. I lean in and give him a half-hug while he flips over several fried eggs.
“Morning, Dad, where’s Mom and Aurora?”
“Upstairs. Aurora wants her room rearranged today, and Mom needed her to go through her closet before we agreed.”
I laugh. “Fair is fair. I’m sure Lucy will appreciate some hand-me-downs.” I take a seat at the bar next to Atticus, looking over his shoulder at the book he’s currently reading.
“Naruto?” I ask.
“Yeah, ever read it?”
“Nope. You really love Manga, huh? We should see if Ink and Ivy can order some more. I’m sure you’ve already cleared out the library?”
“Yep.”
“Any plans for the day?”
“You see it. Reading, then I’m gonna watch the show.”
“Well, I’ll see you later, bud. I’m heading to work.”
“Yeah, to take care of deeeead people!” Wyatt yells from behind us. I roll my eyes, and my dad does the same. I move over toward Cooper, who’s stuffing his face full of eggs.
“Can I have a hug before I leave, Coop?” Cooper leans into me, dropping his head on my shoulder and letting me wrap my arms around him. After he swallows, he looks up at me with his big, beautiful, dark brown eyes. “Did you know that koalas have fingerprints like humans?”
His eyes go wide, and I feel triumphant. I lift on my toes and do a little dance, making him laugh. I never stump him.
“Did you know that owls can’t move their eyeballs? They’re just stuck like this.” Cooper opens his eyes wide and freezes, moving his head slowly to the side while keeping his eyes focused on me. I can’t help but laugh.
“I did know that one, sweet boy. Try to stump me again later?”
“Okay. Bye, Roe!”
After saying a quick bye to my family, I head out the front door and start my twenty-minute walk into town.
The sun is out, it’s a beautiful day, and I can’t help but hold my arms out wide and look up at the sky for a moment.
It’s rarely cloudless here, and I soak up the pretty blue that stretches endlessly above me.
I’ve lived in Amberwood my entire life, and even though it’s a small town, I’ve loved living here.
Once upon a time, I had dreams of getting out, of going to college out of state, a desire to see new places and meet new people.
I craved culture and languages, food, and people, and had such a thirst for adventure.
But in the span of one night, all of that disappeared.
Before I hit town, I walk by the field and look out past it at the lake off in the distance that almost claimed my life at its shore. I mindlessly rub the scar at the back of my head, the tight, raised portion of skin that’s hidden beneath my hair.
“You two made it! Didn’t think you had it in you to sneak out, especially you, Roe.”
“Shut up, Tyler, she’s not the goodie two-shoes you all think she is,” my best friend, Nora, snaps at the two boys sitting in the front seat of their busted-up Honda Civic.
My hands shake as I slide into the back seat with Nora.
I’ve never done anything like this before, but she’s been going out with Tyler for a few months now, and he just got his license.
I don’t know how I let her convince me to sneak out of her parents’ house this late at night to go for a ride with them, but here we are, trying to live a little.
The tires screech as Tyler presses down on the gas. The car jerks as it lurches forward onto the road outside of Nora’s neighborhood. My hand finds hers between us, squeezing it lightly. I snap the top part of my seatbelt, telling her to put hers on, but she just waves me off and laughs.
“Damn, girl, you’re looking so fine in that skirt,” Tyler says as he turns in his seat to look back at Nora.
“You know, Roe, Javier has been checking you out all school year. We just heard rumors you don’t put out, so he hasn’t tried anything yet.
Maybe you could convince him to give you a shot before he moves back to Spain, huh? A little last hurrah.”
My insides churn, but Nora squeezes my hand, nodding her head and encouraging me to say yes.
It’s no secret that I’m still a virgin going into my senior year of high school while everyone around me lost theirs way before now.
I just haven’t met anyone worth giving it to yet.
No one has excited me to the point where I want them to stick their appendage inside me.
I cringe in my seat at the thought. How is everyone just doing this so openly, like it isn’t a huge-ass deal?
But here we are, heading to Lookout Lake, and I just know Nora and Tyler are going to want the back seat to screw, or maybe he’ll just bend her over the hood like he apparently did last week.
Nothing screams losing my virginity like being folded like a pretzel in the back seat of a car on its last leg, by a guy I don’t even really like, who’s moving in a few weeks, while my best friend and her boyfriend get it on feet away from us. Sounds riveting. A girl’s dream.
I kind of thought it would be, I don’t know, call me crazy, but in a bed? With someone who I loved and who loved me, who took their time with me and actually cared about my well-being. Letting Javier stick it in me right now would be a mistake. But damn if the peer pressure doesn’t suck.
“Seriously, Roe, I’m down if you are. I could even give you a mustache ride first if you want that.”
My face must show my reaction because even through the dark light, Nora squeezes my hand so hard I wince. Do guys really think girls want to be talked to like that? Ew.
“I think I’ll pass on the mustache ride and impalement tonight, Javier. Thanks for the offer, though.”
“Aww, why you gotta be such a prude, Roe? Would you rather join me and Nora? Maybe she’s more your type.” Because of course I must be a lesbian just because I’m not putting out for men. I hate high school. Things had better start looking up once I’m in college, or I’ll be a virgin forever.
“How about we just head home? I’m no longer feeling great,” I say. But Nora shoots me a glare so lethal I swear the pupils of her eyes glow in the moonlight.
Tyler flies down the road, and I lean forward to check the dashboard. I know the road leading up to Lookout Lake is thirty-five. I’ve been up here a million times. But the roads are still hard to navigate, and he’s going seventy.
Adrenaline surges forward, my palms starting to sweat as he barrels around another sharp corner. I’m forced to lean into Nora while her laugh echoes through the car. My stomach turns, my head starting to swim.
“Slow down, Tyler, you’re going way too fast,” I tell him, pulling my seatbelt tighter.
“Chill, Roe, I’v—” his words are cut off as the front of his car slams into an elk, the car spinning quickly and hitting the gravel on the side of the road.
My seatbelt cinches so hard the wind is pulled from my lungs, and then I’m upside down, and right again, then upside down. We flip several times down the side of the embankment before we come to a stop at the edge of the lake, and everything goes dark.
The morning goes by quickly, but the moment I step into the preparation room, that spine-prickling feeling of being watched returns.
I’ve never been one to believe in ghosts or hauntings, but I’m starting to question my sanity.
It seems to only be in this room, which is fitting since that’s where the bodies are resting until they’re moved into their caskets or we take them to be cremated.
I slip into my personal protective equipment, laying the water-resistant gown over my dress, then my plastic apron, gloves, goggles, and rain boots. Things can get messy during embalming, and I’m not one to take any chances.
Since the mortuary has a full-time funeral director, I just get to focus on preparing the bodies for their final rest. We were taught through school to expect the possibility of having to juggle multiple roles while working in a funeral home or mortuary, but I’ve been really lucky here in Amberwood with George.
I line up my instruments with a care that borders on reverence. I love my job, and I try to make that shine through in everything I do. Just as I move to stand in front of the embalming table, the air changes, like a held breath or a broken clock, and everything freezes for a moment.
Every molecule in my body seems to stand at attention, and that sense of being watched slides over me, slow and deliberate, settling into the marrow of my bones.
It’s not sharp or unpleasant, it’s more like .
. . anticipation. Like when you know your name is about to be called at school and you have the answer on the tip of your tongue.
Instead of shaking it off, I move more carefully, every step measured and intentional.
I’m deeply aware of every minute detail, the way I stand, how my spine straightens, and I catch myself smoothing my apron repeatedly, adjusting my stance, and schooling my features.
I feel like I’m naked and on center stage, the overhead lights beaming down and making me the star while darkness surrounds everything else.
I’m absolutely losing my mind. Absurd, really. I’m putting on a show for an empty room. For the sterile tile walls. For the dead. For nothing I can see or name. Yeah. I’m losing my grasp on reality.
I do my best to push it out of my mind as I work through my tasks, but as the day goes on, that itch spreads deeper, a quiet insistence demanding my attention. The feeling never follows me out into the hallways or the breakroom where I have my lunch, but I felt an emptiness as I left the room.
I take a bite of my strawberry and goat cheese salad, but its typically bright and summery flavors are lost today. I don’t realize I’ve completely checked out until a voice breaks my thought process.
“Feeling alright, Monroe?”
I look up to find George taking a seat at the other end of the table. He’s about seventy-five, a widow, and has the biggest heart. I think he’s truly biding his time for when death claims him, like it eventually claims us all, so that he can reunite with his wife again.
I’ve had a run-in with death, and I’m unsure if I believe in an afterlife. It’s a nice thought, though, something to dream about when life is hard. That there’s more to all of this after we leave. I’d like to think Nora is someplace else, someplace good.
“I’m okay, just feeling a bit off today. How are you?”
George and I share a bit of small talk, but in the back of my mind, I feel a pull to the preparation room, an invisible string yanking ever so slightly for me to return, that something is there, waiting for me.
The strangest part of all of this is that I don’t feel afraid. The presence is familiar, close, and intimate without touching, and instead of shrinking or running away, I want to rise to meet it, to uncover it.
When I finally leave for the day, the feeling loosens its grip, and my body relaxes, no longer feeling an innate need to be on display, but it feels empty somehow, like there’s something there that I need.
No matter how many times I ask myself what’s wrong with me and if I’m truly losing my mind, I know that I’m eager for tomorrow to see if I feel it again.