Halloween Night, He Mistook My Death for a Prank Chapter 07

My mother was still in the loungewear she hadn’t had time to change out of.

My father was right behind her, his shoelaces untied, his face whiter than the wall.

They saw the blood on Nolan. Then they saw the crystal casket behind the crime scene tape.

My mother’s steps slowed.

“Who’s lying in there? It’s not Avery, right?”

Nolan walked over and dropped to his knees in front of her.

“Mrs. Bennett.”

He barely got the words out before her palm cracked across his face.

The sound was so sharp the whole auditorium went silent.

“Don’t you call me that.”

“My daughter told me before she left—after the showcase, she was bringing you home for a late-night takeout run.”

“Where is she?”

Nolan’s head was knocked to the side.

His lip split, but he didn’t wipe it.

When my father lifted the white sheet, his body lurched violently. He gripped the edge of the casket, his knuckles bone-white.

My mother didn’t cry. She just bent down and touched my hair, the way she used to wake me up when I was little.

“Avery, don’t sleep here. It’s cold. Come home with Mom.”

“I’m sorry, Mom!”

I sobbed, kneeling beside her, trying over and over to hug her.

My arms passed through her body every time.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I can’t come home.”

Sienna walked over, crying.

“Mrs. Bennett, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know the blade would fall.”

“I just wanted to film a video. I never thought—”

My mother looked up.

“Did you film it?”

“What?”

“When my daughter was dying, weren’t you filming?”

My mother held out her hand.

“Show me.”

Sienna stepped back.

But Nolan took the phone and opened the video himself.

When my mother saw me struggling, her shoulders finally collapsed.

When she saw Nolan pressing my hand down and patting the back of my neck, her breath caught and she nearly fell.

My father caught her, then kicked Nolan to the ground.

“She was begging you! Couldn’t you see?”

Nolan didn’t dodge. He curled on the floor, clutching my jack-o’-lantern enamel pin.

“I saw. I just didn’t believe her.”

The police pulled the full backstage surveillance footage.

On screen, Sienna removed the panel.

On screen, the blade fell.

On screen, Nolan missed my cries for help, again and again.

And after I died—them pressing my head down to film a video, blocking Chloe from checking on me, lifting my body into the crystal casket.

Every frame was clear.

No more “I didn’t mean it” could turn death back into a joke.

The police walked up to Sienna.

“Come with us for questioning.”

When the cold metal clicked around her wrists, she finally broke down.

“Nolan! Help me!”

Nolan slowly raised his eyes.

“Then who was supposed to help Avery?”