Chapter 2: The Boy Who Broke the Coffin
The first scream came from my aunt.
"Ethan! What are you doing?""
I didn't answer.
I ran.
My shoes slipped against the polished floor as I charged toward the coffin. Someone shouted my name. A chair scraped backward. The funeral director hurried around a flower arrangement, waving his arms.
But I could hear only one thing.
Three knocks.
I had heard them before. I knew what they meant.
My mother was still in there.
Richard spun around.
"Stop him!""
His voice cracked through the chapel with an authority I had never heard from him before.
Two men rose from the front row, but I reached the coffin first.
I lifted the hammer.
"Mom, if you can hear me, move away!""
Then I swung.
CRACK!
The impact jolted through my arms. Pain shot into my wrists, and the hammer nearly slipped from my fingers.
A section of the white lid splintered.
Guests erupted into terrified shouts.
"Get that boy away from the casket!"" someone yelled.
Richard shoved past the funeral director.
"Ethan, put it down! Right now!""
I swung again.
CRACK!
A jagged piece of wood broke loose and fell onto the floor.
I could hear people crying. My aunt, Melissa, had both hands pressed over her mouth. The funeral director was trying to reach me, but he hesitated when Richard pushed him aside.
"He's having a breakdown!"" Richard shouted.
"Get him away from there!""
I struck the lid a third time.
The hammer broke through.
A narrow opening appeared between the shattered pieces of wood.
I leaned over it, gasping.
"Mom?""
At first, I saw only darkness.
Then something moved.
A pale hand appeared beneath the broken lid.
A woman in the front row screamed so loudly that several people flinched.
"Oh my God!""
I dropped the hammer.
Through the opening, I saw a face.
My mother's face.
Her eyes were wide with terror. Silver duct tape covered her mouth, and strands of brown hair clung to her damp forehead. Her cheeks were streaked with tears.
She was alive.
My mother was alive.
"Mom!""
I reached toward her, trying to pull away the broken wood.
She shook her head frantically.
Her eyes moved past me.
Toward Richard.
I turned.
My stepfather had pulled a handgun from beneath his jacket.
For one suspended second, nobody seemed to understand what they were seeing.
Then Richard raised the weapon and aimed it toward the crowd.
"EVERYONE STEP BACK!""
A woman stumbled into the aisle. The funeral director raised both hands. Someone began sobbing uncontrollably.
Richard moved toward the coffin, keeping the gun trained on the guests.
"I said back away! Nobody touches that casket!""
My aunt Melissa stepped in front of me.
"Richard, what have you done?"" she demanded.
"Move, Melissa.""
"That's my sister in there!""
Richard pointed the gun toward her.
"Do you want to join her?""
Melissa froze.
I had never seen an adult look so helpless.
My mother began pounding against the coffin again.
Thump. Thump.
Richard's expression twisted.
"Be quiet!"" he shouted at the casket.
The words made the room go silent.
He had spoken to her as if she were an animal he was trying to keep from making noise.
My mother flinched.
I felt something inside me harden.
"Let her out," I said.
Richard looked at me.
"What?""
"Let my mother out.""
He gave a short, disbelieving laugh.
"You have no idea what you're talking about.""
"I can see her!""
"You see what you want to see.""
"She's alive!""
Richard stepped closer, the gun still raised.
"Ethan, listen carefully. Put the hammer down, move away from that coffin, and nobody gets hurt.""
"It's already down.""
"Then move away.""
"No.""
The word came out before I could think about it.
Richard's eyes narrowed.
"What did you say?""
I looked directly at him.
"I said no.""
For the first time, the mask slipped completely.
His jaw tightened. The corners of his mouth pulled back, revealing the angry man I had heard arguing with my mother behind closed doors.
"You ungrateful little brat," he hissed.
"After everything I've done for you.""
Melissa moved closer to the coffin.
Richard swung the gun toward her.
"One more step, and I'll shoot.""
She stopped.
My mother's hand appeared again through the broken opening. Her fingers reached blindly into the air.
I caught them.
Her skin was cold and damp.
She squeezed my hand with what little strength she had left.
That tiny movement nearly destroyed me.
"Mom, I'm here," I whispered.
"I'm going to get you out.""
Her eyes filled with fresh tears.
Richard lunged forward.
I pulled my mother's hand back beneath the broken lid just before he grabbed my shoulder.
He yanked me away from the coffin.
"You have no idea what you've done!"" he shouted into my face.
I struggled against him.
"Get off me!""
He shoved me hard enough that I crashed into a flower stand. White roses scattered across the floor.
The hammer lay several feet away.
I scrambled toward it, but Richard stepped on my hand.
Pain flashed through my fingers.
"Stay down!"" he barked.
I cried out.
Several guests moved forward instinctively.
Richard lifted the gun.
"Back!""
They retreated.
He removed his foot from my hand and dragged me upright by the collar of my shirt.
"You should have listened to me," he whispered.
I could smell his expensive cologne. Beneath it was something sharper, something that made my stomach turn.
"Why are you doing this?"" I asked.
"Because your mother made a choice.""
"She didn't choose this!""
Richard's grip tightened.
"You don't know what she did.""
"Then tell me!""
He looked toward the coffin.
For a moment, something like panic crossed his face.
Then he leaned closer.
"Your mother stole something from me. Something that belongs to me. She thought she could destroy my life and walk away with my money.""
"You're lying.""
His hand struck my cheek.
The sound echoed through the chapel.
Melissa screamed.
I stumbled backward, holding my face.
Richard turned toward the guests.
"This is a family matter," he announced, trying to regain control.
"My wife was involved in a serious criminal dispute. She was supposed to be transferred to a private medical facility, but the boy has made an impossible situation worse.""
The funeral director stared at him.
"Mr. Hale, you told us she was deceased.""
Richard pointed the gun at him.
"And I suggest you forget what you think you heard.""
A man's voice rose from the back of the chapel.
"Put the gun down, Richard.""
It was Mr. Bennett, my mother's older brother.
He had arrived late because his flight had been delayed. He stood near the entrance, rainwater dripping from his coat, his face pale with fury.
Richard's expression changed.
"David. This doesn't concern you.""
"You have a gun pointed at a room full of people. I think it concerns everyone.""
David slowly raised his hands.
"Let's calm down. Whatever this is, we can talk about it.""
"There is nothing to talk about.""
"Then let Claire out of that coffin.""
Richard's finger tightened around the trigger.
"Take one more step, and I'll put a bullet in your chest.""
David stopped.
I saw him glance toward the broken lid, then toward the chapel doors.
He was looking for an opportunity.
So was I.
My mother made a muffled sound from inside the coffin.
Richard whipped around.
"Shut up!""
He marched toward the casket, grabbed a loose section of the broken lid, and slammed it down over the opening.
My mother's hand vanished.
"No!"" I screamed.
I charged at him.
He swung the gun toward me.
I stopped so abruptly that my shoes slid across the floor.
"That's enough!"" Richard shouted.
"The next person who moves is going to regret it.""
A little girl near the back began crying for her father.
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
And then, from inside the coffin, came another sound.
Not three gentle taps this time.
A frantic pounding.
My mother was running out of time.
Richard heard it, too.
His face drained of color.
He looked toward the chapel doors, then at the shattered lid, then at the crowd.
For the first time, I saw genuine fear in his eyes.
He knew he couldn't keep pretending anymore.
He had two choices.
Let my mother out and face what he had done.
Or make sure nobody in that room ever told the world what they had witnessed.
May you like
He raised the gun higher.
And aimed it directly at my aunt.
