After My Death, My Family Finally Got Their Wish

A year after my return to the Clarks’ family, they finally decided it was time to take a family photo. The Clark’s mansion, located right in the heart of the city, had a spacious, sunlit living room where the large photo hung prominently. I'd heard from the village kids that a family photo was like a family’s credentials—it showed that no one was left out and everyone had a place. For two years, I gazed enviously at that family photo on the wall, wishing and hoping that one day I would have a spot in it.

Then, one day, I finally got the chance. It was a day I had been waiting for and I made sure to wear the only flowery dress I had, the one that had been tucked away in the back of my closet. It was a bit faded and worn, but it felt special.

No one knew how much this photo meant to me, how much I had dreamed of being part of it. As the photographer adjusted the lights and positioned the camera, I did my best to keep a bright, radiant smile on my face. Even as I started to feel a tingling numbness in my cheeks from the effort of holding the smile, I forced myself to keep it up.

While the photographer was adjusting the background and setting up the camera and my family waited in the lounge, I headed to the restroom to tidy up my appearance. When I came out, I bumped into a long-haired man. I stumbled for a moment and looked at the person who had run into me. He seemed to be one of the photographers here. Thinking it was just an accident on both our parts, I smiled and apologized. However, he grinned as he stared at me. His eyes roamed over me in a very disturbing way and worst of all, the man had an awful body odor.

“That's a nice smile,” he said, taking a step closer to me.

I was shaking with fear. My mind went blank. His cold touch against my skin made my heart pound like a drum. I bit him hard and pushed him away in a panic, then bolted out of the room. Stumbling back to the lounge, I was nearly overwhelmed by fear and nausea.

The lingering smell of tobacco on the photographer’s body clung to me like a suffocating grip, making me tremble uncontrollably.

Desperately seeking comfort, I turned to my parents. But just as I looked at them with hope, my dad delivered a harsh slap, sending me crashing to the ground. My right ear rang painfully, blood trickled from the corner of my lip and my face swelled up. Vivid to naked eye.

Abigail cowered behind my mother, her eyes darting back and forth between me and my Dad. After a moment, she approached hesitantly.

“I saw Lily was flirting with him and trying to seduce him. But then she suddenly ran away in fear. Why were you trying to seduce him, Lily?”

Upon hearing these accusations, I jumped up and yelled, “That’s a lie. I didn’t do anything! Why are you accusing me?”

It was completely false. I hadn’t done anything wrong. But no one would listen to me. As I shouted at Abigail, Alexander stepped forward and kicked me hard.

“Who the hell do you think you are? Why are you shouting at Abigail?”

I collapsed on the floor, clutching my stomach, writhing in agony. My body was racked with violent tremors and cold sweat dripped steadily down my forehead, pooling on the floor beneath me. Each wave of pain seemed to tighten its grip, making it hard to breathe or focus.