Chapter 6

The sight of my locket, clutched in Detective Miller's gloved hand, was a punch to Atlas's gut. His breath hitched, a strangled sound escaping his throat. His knees buckled, and he leaned heavily against a nearby pillar, his face a mask of utter horror.

"No," he whispered, the word barely audible. "That's not... that's not hers. It can't be." He shook his head, frantically trying to deny the undeniable.

But the cold, hard reality was already setting in, chipping away at his carefully constructed indifference. He stumbled, half-running, half-crawling, out of the opulent lobby and into the frigid mountain air. The valet lot was cordoned off with yellow police tape, flashing blue and red lights casting an eerie glow on the fresh snow. A crowd of onlookers had gathered, their faces a mixture of morbid curiosity and pity.

In the center of it all, bathed in the harsh, artificial light, was his black SUV. And beside it, a gurney. Atlas froze, his eyes fixed on the white sheet that covered a small, still form. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic, desperate rhythm. He didn't want to look. He couldn't not look.

He walked towards it, each step heavy, as if he were wading through thick mud. The cold air burned his lungs, but he felt nothing but a chilling dread. He stopped beside the gurney, his legs threatening to give out. He stared at the outline beneath the sheet. So small. So fragile.

"Elsie?" he whispered, his voice cracking. He reached out a trembling hand, then pulled it back, as if afraid to touch. "No. No, it can't be you. You're just... you're hiding."

A sob tore from his chest, ugly and raw. It was the first honest sound I had heard from him in years. He grabbed the edge of the sheet, his fingers fumbling, and ripped it back.

There I was. My face,

pale and serene in death,

was turned slightly to the side.

My lips, blue with cold,

were parted, as if in a final, silent sigh.

My eyes were closed,

long lashes fanned against my cheeks.

A dark stain, stark against the white fabric of my simple dress,

marred my stomach and the inner thighs of my jeans.

My fingers were still curled,

as if clutching something that was no longer there.

My small body was stiff, already frozen in the unforgiving cold.

Atlas gasped, a guttural sound of pure agony. He stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet, falling heavily onto the snow-covered asphalt. His hands flew to his head, clutching his hair, his body wracked with violent shudders.

"Elsie!" he wailed, his voice echoing in the sudden silence of the lot. "Oh my God, Elsie!"

Why are you so sad, Atlas? My ghostly form hovered above my lifeless body, a strange curiosity filling me. You hated me. You wanted me gone. Why are you crying? The tears he shed were incomprehensible to my innocent, dead soul.

Just then, Kacie arrived, escorted by Thorne, her face pale with a theatrical horror. She saw the gurney, saw my still form, and clutched her hand to her mouth, letting out a small, terrified shriek. "Oh, Atlas!" she cried, rushing to his side. "It's... it's really her!"

Atlas, still on his knees, instinctively reached out, pulling her into a desperate embrace. He buried his face in her shoulder, his body trembling violently. "She's... she's gone, Kacie. She's really gone." He choked on his words, his grief raw and uncontrolled.

He loves her, my spirit thought, a weary, familiar pang. Even now. Even when I am gone. He still only wants Kacie. It was a truth I had known my entire life, but seeing it played out, even in death, still hurt.

Thorne and the other friends who had come with them stood by, their faces somber, their whispers hushed. They looked at the scene, shocked by the sudden, brutal reality of my death.

Soon, Atlas, Kacie, and the rest of the party were taken to the local police station for questioning. The room was cold, sterile, far from the warmth of the Aspen lodge.

"We just told them what we agreed on," Thorne whispered to Atlas, his lawyer already by his side. "She was mentally unstable, prone to wandering. She must have gotten out of the car, then somehow climbed back in and forgotten where she was. A tragic accident."

Atlas just stared blankly, his mind still reeling from the image of my frozen body. He nodded mechanically, numbly agreeing to the fabricated story.

Detective Miller re-entered the room, his face grave. He placed a folder on the table. "Mr. Forbes, we've completed the preliminary examination of Mrs. Forbes' body." He paused, his gaze fixed on Atlas. "It appears Mrs. Forbes died from internal hemorrhaging, consistent with a severe miscarriage. She also showed signs of hypothermia."

Atlas gasped, his eyes wide. "Miscarriage? But... but she wasn't pregnant." He looked at Kacie, a sudden, cold suspicion dawning in his eyes.

Kacie flinched, her eyes widening in fear. "No! Of course not! Atlas made sure she took precautions. She couldn't have been!" Her voice was shrill, too defensive.

Detective Miller continued, unfazed. "Our forensic team confirms she was approximately three months pregnant. The miscarriage appears to have been chemically induced, caused by high-dose abortion medication found in her system."

Atlas's mind reeled. Pregnant? Three months? He remembered the pills. The ones he forced her to take every morning. "These are birth control, Elsie," he'd said, his voice flat. "Don't you dare get pregnant. I want no more burdens from you." He had ensured she took them, watched her swallow them with water. He had been so careful.

You made me take them, my phantom voice whimpered, a new wave of pain, a spiritual pain, washing over me. But Kacie... Kacie said they were vitamins. She said you wanted me strong.

Detective Miller held up another plastic bag, this one containing a small, unmarked bottle. "This bottle was found in her pocket. Residue tests confirm it contained a potent abortifacient. A prescription drug. Highly illegal to administer without medical supervision."

Atlas stared at the bottle, then slowly, deliberately, turned his head to Kacie. His eyes, once glazed with grief, now burned with a terrifying, icy fury.

Kacie swallowed hard, her face paling even further. "Atlas, no! It wasn't me! She must have... she must have gotten it herself! She was desperate to keep you! She was probably trying to frame me!" She pointed a trembling finger at me, the invisible me, throwing accusations into the empty air. "She always lied! She told Atlas she was sleeping with other men! She said she hated him!"

No! That's not true! My spirit shrieked, the silent sound reverberating only in my own shattered consciousness. I never said that! I never hated you, Atlas! I loved you! I just wanted you to look at me! A new memory clawed its way to the surface. The strange man from the cellar. His cold hands. Kacie, standing nearby, watching, a triumphant smirk on her face. It wasn't me who was unfaithful, Atlas, I wanted to scream. It was you. And her. And the monster she brought into our home.