The very same shoebox I’d used to bury Squeaky in the backyard last night.

I squeezed my eyes shut, mentally stringing together as many cuss words I could think of. I should’ve known she’d do this. A violent shiver went through me.

Olivia just couldn’t let dead things be.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But Squeaky loves me and he needed me.”

I skirted around her and dropped to my knees. “Squeaky didn’t need you! Olivia, you can’t do this every time one of your pets dies. It isn’t right. It’s unnatural.” Like it hadn’t been natural to bring back the dead pigeon she’d found in the driveway the other day. Or Smokey, the cat she’d discovered alongside the road.

“But… I did it to you,” Olivia insisted.

I opened my mouth, but what could I say? Olivia had done it to me two years ago, and I was just as unnatural as Squeaky. Even more so… “I know, and trust me, I appreciate that. But you can’t keep doing this.”

She flinched back. “Don’t.”

I glanced at my hands, unaware I had reached for her. Frustrated, I let them drop to my lap. “When things die, it means it’s their time to go. You know this.”

Olivia jerked to her feet. “You’re gonna take Squeaky away from me.”

The scent of death clung to the shoebox, invading my senses. Horrified, I wondered if I smelled like that. The urge to sniff myself seemed too strong to pass up.

“Please don’t take Squeaky,” she went on, getting ready for an Olivia-sized breakdown. “I promise not to do it again. Just let me keep Squeaky! Please!”

I stared.

Olivia stopped moving, but her nightgown still swung around her knees. “Ember, are you mad at me? Please don’t be mad at me.”

“No.” I sighed. “I’m not mad, but you have to promise me you won’t do this again. And mean it this time.”

She bobbed her head eagerly. “I won’t! So you’ll let me keep Squeaky?”

“Yes. Just go get the stupid hamster.” I stood, sighing. “He was under my blankets.”

A bright, beautiful smile broke across her face as she whirled around and took off toward my bedroom. I trailed behind her, my skin crawling as I glanced at the twisted doll. The door to my bedroom hung haphazardly on its remaining hinge.

This house was old, like Civil-War-era old. Everything sagged or slanted at crooked angles. Paint peeled off the walls in sheets like snakeskin. Nothing stood straight. The air smelled of death and decay.

Almost like the house had died two years ago.

Turned out that Squeaky was still under my covers, doing God knows what. Olivia held the squirming ball of fur close to her face. “I get to keep you!”

I clasped my hands together to keep them from shaking. “Put Squeaky in his cage and get ready for school, Olivia. We’ll… pretend this didn’t happen, okay? And go brush your teeth.” I paused. “And don’t even think about wearing your princess dress to school today.”