Frozen Cargo, A Betrayed Wife

My husband made me ride in the freezing cargo hold because his mistress wanted peace and quiet.

I died back there, clutching the "vitamins" she gave me, while they laughed in the front seat.

It wasn't until my frozen body was found that Atlas realized he had just killed his own wife and unborn child.

Ten years ago, I saved Atlas from a car crash that left me with the mind of a child.

He hated me for it.

He treated me like a burden and let his mistress, Kacie, feed me high-dose abortion pills disguised as health supplements.

When the police uncovered the truth, Atlas' s world shattered.

He discovered Kacie had never been pregnant-but I was.

Consumed by a belated, violent rage, he executed Kacie with his own hands and demanded the death penalty for himself.

He thought death would be his redemption.

He thought he could find me on the other side and make amends.

But when his spirit finally reached out to mine, begging for forgiveness, I didn't feel the love I had yearned for in life.

I felt nothing.

"Go away, Atlas," I whispered, watching his soul crumble.

"I'm finally free."

Chapter 1

My stomach felt like a thousand tiny needles were pricking me, twisting inside me with a cold, wet grip. Every bump in the road sent a fresh wave of agony through my belly, making my head throb. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to make the pain disappear, but it only got bigger, a dark, heavy blanket smothering me.

"Atlas," I whimpered, trying to push past the heavy ski bags and cold metal poles pressing against me. My voice was small, choked, swallowed by the roaring engine and the loud music from the front.

He didn't hear me. He never did.

He had put me in the back, in the cargo hold of his big, black SUV. The space was dark and cold, even colder than the mountain air outside. I hated the dark. It made the bad thoughts come, the ones that made my chest feel tight and swimmy.

"Stop whining, Elsie," Atlas had said earlier, his voice sharp and impatient. It cut through me, colder than the air in here. "Kacie and I need to talk. Can't you just be quiet for once?"

He turned up the music then, a loud, thumping beat that vibrated the car. It was his way of telling me to disappear. He always did that. He liked quiet when Kacie was around.

My stomach cramped again, hard, like a giant hand was squeezing my insides. A warm, sticky liquid was spreading between my legs. It smelled coppery, like the pennies Momma used to let me hold. But this wasn't pennies. This was bad.

I reached for the locket around my neck, the cold metal a small comfort against my throbbing chest. Momma had given it to me. "Be a good girl, Elsie," she had said, just before she went away forever. "Be good, and Atlas will love you. He has to. He promised."

I was always good. I tried so hard. But Atlas never loved me. He never even looked at me, not really. Not like he looked at Kacie.

My head felt heavy, swimming in a thick fog. Ten years ago, the world had crashed in on me. I remembered the twisted metal, the awful screams. I remembered pulling Atlas out, his face pale and still. Then, everything went black. When I woke up, the world was different. Colors were too bright, sounds too loud. And my thoughts… they were like a child's crayon drawing, simple and broken.

They told me I saved Atlas. They said his family owed me. And Momma, she made them pay. She made Atlas marry me. It was supposed to keep me safe, keep me from being alone. But I was more alone now than ever.

The pain in my belly flared, sharper this time, and I gasped. My eyes fluttered open, but there was only darkness. I tried to curl into a ball, to make myself smaller, to make the pain smaller. But it was too big. Everything was too big. The darkness, the cold, the pain.

I wanted Momma. I wanted her to sing me a lullaby, to stroke my hair and tell me it would be okay. But Momma was gone. And I was alone in the dark.

A sudden, jarring lurch of the SUV threw me against the hard wall. A sharp, stinging pain shot through my head. The world tilted, then spun. My breath caught in my throat. I felt myself floating, light and strangely peaceful, above the cold, dark cargo hold.

I looked down. There I was, curled up on the floor, my small hands clutched to my stomach, a dark stain spreading on my jeans. My eyes were open, but they looked empty. Like the dolls Momma used to put away in the attic.

The music was still thumping, loud and oblivious. I could see through the thin partition, into the main cabin. Atlas was laughing, his head thrown back. Kacie was beside him, her hand on his arm, her red lips curving into a smug smile.

"She's finally quiet," Kacie purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "I told you she'd eventually shut up."

Atlas chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that used to make my heart flutter, long ago, before the crash. Now, it just sounded… empty. "Right," he said, taking Kacie's hand. "Always making a scene, that one. What a burden."

Burden.

That word echoed in the confined space, bouncing off the ski equipment, off my still body.

He looked at Kacie, his gaze soft and full of something I had always craved. "Soon, Kacie," he murmured, squeezing her hand. "Soon, she'll be out of our lives for good. Then we can really start fresh. You and me. And our baby."

Our baby. The words twisted in my non-existent gut. I felt a strange, cold emptiness where my pain used to be. It wasn't just Kacie's baby. It was my baby, too. Or, it would have been. If Kacie hadn't forced those little white pills down my throat, telling me they were vitamins. "Atlas wants you to be strong," she' d said, her smile too sweet. "Take these. They'll help you stop complaining."

And now, I was silent. Forever.

I'm dead, I thought, a strange calm washing over me. The pain was gone. The cold was gone. Only a faint sense of lingering sadness remained, like a forgotten echo.

The SUV finally slowed, pulling into a grand, stone-lined driveway. Bright lights from a towering lodge glittered against the snow-covered mountains of Aspen. A valet in a crisp uniform hurried to open their doors.

Atlas and Kacie stepped out, hand in hand, their faces alight with the excitement of arrival. Kacie shivered delicately, pulling her designer fur coat tighter. "It's freezing, darling," she cooed. "Let's get inside."

"Just a moment," Atlas said, glancing back at the SUV. "Did anyone see Elsie? She's probably sulking somewhere." He sounded annoyed, not concerned.

Just then, a hulking figure in a thick, black jacket approached the SUV. His face was grim, his eyes hard. He had a tight, unpleasant smile. He looked like trouble, the kind Momma always warned me about. His name was Mr. Thorne, Atlas's fixer, a man who always seemed to carry a dark secret in his eyes.

"Atlas," Thorne said, his voice gravelly. "I've handled the… arrangements. The facility is expecting her. They're ready to take her in tonight, no questions asked."

Kacie beamed at Thorne, a triumphant spark in her eyes. "Perfect. I can't wait to finally have some peace and quiet around here."

Atlas' s brow furrowed. "Are you sure this is the right place, Thorne? It looks a bit… run down. I want her taken care of, not just tossed aside." Even in this, his concern was less for me, and more for avoiding a messy situation. He was worried about appearances. Always.

Thorne chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Don't you worry, boss. It's discreet. Very private. She'll be… comfortable. And out of sight. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

Kacie stepped closer to Atlas, stroking his arm. "Darling, don't fuss. Thorne knows what he's doing. Elsie will be fine. She always finds a way to be 'fine.' Now, let's go warm up. I'm starving."

Atlas sighed, a hint of irritation in his voice. "Fine. But if there's any trouble, Thorne, you deal with it. I don't want to hear another peep about her." He looked toward the rear of the vehicle, his gaze passing right through where I floated. "She always manages to be such a nuisance, even when she's trying to be good."

I watched them, a strange sense of detachment settling over me. My story had ended, alone in the dark, cold cargo hold. And they, the living, were already planning my erasure. Atlas, Kacie, Thorne. They were all in on it, in their own ways. My silent plea, my last breath, had gone unheard, unnoticed. It was just another nuisance, another problem to be solved, like an annoying fly buzzing too close.

My eyes, from my ethereal vantage point, drifted back to my lifeless body, still tucked amongst the forgotten ski equipment and luggage. No one was looking for me. No one ever really did.