Frozen at His Grave

On Christmas when I was 6 years old, my brother and I were molested while delivering gingerbread to the neighbors in our village.

My brother died protecting me that day. His life stopped forever.

After that, Mom would tell everyone I was a slut who seduced men all the time.

She even dressed me up prettily and sent me to stay with the old bachelors in the community, taking turns for a few days each.

Mom said it was to train me, to prevent accidents from happening again.

Until this Christmas, on the anniversary of my brother's death, I wore my thorn-covered clothes to pay my respects to him as usual.

But I accidentally spilled the ice cubes I was holding, tearing my clothes and exposing my arm.

Mom flew into a rage when she saw this and slapped me across the face.

"Even on your brother's death anniversary, you can't help being a slut, seducing everyone you see, even your own mother!"

"If you hadn't insisted on delivering that gingerbread back then, your brother wouldn't have died!"

"I make you wear these clothes and eat ice cubes to atone for what you did to your brother. How can you be so shameless!"

"Tonight you'll kneel right here and apologize properly to your brother. Come back on your own tomorrow!"

Mom left without looking back.

Because of my hearing damage, I couldn't hear any sounds.

I didn't know why Mom was angry, but I obediently stayed by my brother's gravestone.

But as I ate the ice cubes, my body got colder and colder, until I floated up into the air...

Shortly after Mom left, I emerged from my body and flew back home.

Dad had just gotten home from work and only saw Mom.

"Where's Hannah? Why are you alone?"

Mom threw the Christmas gift I'd given her into the trash, saying angrily:

"Don't mention that jinx to me!"

"The little slut couldn't even dress properly in front of her brother's grave. Let her reflect on herself."

"If you weren't so busy all the time and actually raised her properly, she wouldn't have turned out like this!"

Hearing this, I panicked and cried out.

"Mom, no, it wasn't like that. I didn't mean to."

"The thorns tore my clothes. I didn't deliberately rip them to upset you..."

"Mom..."

But no one responded to me.

Dad fell silent, then soon turned and went to the living room to read the newspaper.

I could only swallow my grievance, wipe my tears, and follow Mom to the kitchen.

She took out several packages of wrapped gingerbread, then came to my bedroom and turned on the light.

"Hannah Sweetwater, why are you sleeping so early? Get up and help me deliver gingerbread!"

I waved my little hand from the side, trying to remind Mom.

"Mom, I'm right here!"

I tried to grab Mom's hand, but couldn't hold on no matter what.

That's when I realized.

I seemed to no longer exist.

Adults say that after people die, their souls follow their closest person.

So had I died?

Mom didn't respond to me. She had forgotten I was still at the grave.

But the next second she realized it and stormed out, slamming the door.

"What a jinx. Now I have to deal with this alone."

Every Christmas, Mom would dress me up prettily and accompany me to deliver homemade gingerbread to our neighbors in the village.

I followed Mom to the house next door.

Mrs. Peterson, our neighbor, was surprised to see only my mom.

"How come Hannah didn't come?"

"You really don't need to do this. You come every year. It feels awkward."

I was about to greet Mrs. Peterson when Mom frowned deeply.

She looked like she didn't want to mention me at all.

"That little slut misbehaved. I'm punishing her by making her kneel at her brother's grave."

Mrs. Peterson looked shocked.

"She's just a child. How can you call her that every day?"

"And Hannah has always been well-behaved. Even if she did something wrong, you can't punish her like this..."

"The temperature keeps dropping. It's ten degrees below zero today. Her body can't handle it. How can you make a child kneel in a place like that?"

"What do you mean 'a place like that'? That's my son's grave!"

Mom snatched the gingerbread from Mrs. Peterson's hands and turned to leave.

"Making that little slut kneel there to keep vigil for her brother is already going easy on her!"

"I survived the cold when I was little. How could anything happen to her from a little cold like this?"

Mrs. Peterson watched Mom's determined back and sighed deeply.

Worried, she grabbed some clothes and headed up the mountain to the grave.

Mrs. Peterson was usually very kind to me. She must be going to find me.

But I was already dead. She wouldn't be able to find me.

Mom went to several houses delivering gingerbread, but each visit ended badly.

But when Mom was about to return from another village, an accident happened.

I saw a woman with disheveled hair rush out and splash paint all over Mom.

She kept muttering:

"Bitch, give me back my son! Give me back my son!"

Seeing Mom in such a miserable state, I felt terrible.

I raised my hand to help wipe her off, but I was already dead.

I couldn't touch Mom.

Mom wiped her eyes and threw the undelivered gingerbread on the ground.

"You crazy woman, looking for your son and blaming me? What kind of tantrum are you throwing on Christmas!"

"It's you! It's your little slut who harmed my son!"

The woman collapsed on the ground crying:

"Your little slut seduced my son with her shameless behavior. He drank poison and died on Christmas."

"Hannah, it's you again! You slut!"

Mom was furious. I saw her eyes turn red, angry at me.

"Killing your brother wasn't enough? You had to harm someone else's family too! I might as well have raised a dog instead of you!"

People around started gossiping.

"Oh my, this Hannah got her brother killed three years ago, and now this year again..."

"You don't know, back then there wasn't even proof that the bachelor molested her. Maybe she just got horny and seduced him herself."

"Tsk tsk tsk, acting so slutty at such a young age. Her mother doesn't look like anything good either!"

"Exactly. Just get out of our village. Don't come ruin Christmas for us."

No, it wasn't like that.

I remembered who that little boy was.

I felt so wronged and ran to everyone trying desperately to explain.

"Mom, his dad beat him every day, that man..."

"That man would touch me inappropriately too. We were just comforting each other."

"Everyone, I didn't seduce that boy, I didn't..."

"Please believe me, don't curse Mom..."

No matter how I cried and explained, no one could hear me.

The Christmas night wind was so cold.

Even though I was dead, my heart and tears felt as cold as the ice cube meals Mom always made me eat.

Mom got up very early the morning after Christmas.

She heard the door creak and thought I had gotten up.

"Hannah, you slut, you finally got up!"

Mom turned around but didn't see me.

She walked to my bedroom door but couldn't open it.

"You dare throw a tantrum with me now? Do you know you got another person killed?"

"Did I raise you all these years just so you could seduce people!"

"If you're going to ignore me, then don't expect to eat today. Better yet, just die in your room!"

But Mom, I'm not in my room.

I died at my brother's gravestone. Will you be a little happier when you find out?

While Mom ate, I crouched beside her hugging myself.

The cemetery floor was too cold. I had been kneeling for so long that my knees were swollen.

Even though it didn't hurt now, I still wanted Mom to kiss them better.

But she was on the phone, ignoring me.

"Why do you care about her? She's been sleeping in her bedroom."

"Care about her? Do you know your precious daughter got that crazy woman's son from the next village killed!"

"Marrying you and giving birth to this slut was truly a sin!"

Ever since my brother died, Mom and Dad fought often.

But Dad was always quiet. It was basically Mom fighting with herself.

Every time they fought, she would call me a "slut."

At first I would cry and say I wasn't, but over time I got used to it.

But I really wasn't a slut. I was very good.

I didn't seduce people, and I certainly didn't harm people.

But Mom would never hear my explanations again.

Angry at me, Mom took all the birthday gifts she'd given me over the years and burned them.

That's when I finally saw the gifts Mom had given my brother.

Mom had preserved all those clothes and toys of various sizes very carefully. They were all stored in individual boxes.

Mine were just in plastic bags.

I watched Mom take out photos of my brother from when he was alive and personally burn my toys and New Year clothes.

Among them was my favorite Barbie doll.

I reached my little hand into the fire to grab it, but couldn't touch anything.

"Mom, please, don't burn my doll..."

"I know I was wrong. Hannah will listen to you from now on. I won't rip my clothes anymore. Mom, please..."

Mom threw item after item into the fire pit.

As the sparks burned, a loving expression appeared on Mom's face.

It was a tenderness I had never seen or experienced.

"Starlight, so many years have passed, and I miss you so much."

"If only you hadn't saved Hannah back then. If only she had died instead. Then you could have grown up healthy..."

My little hand hung helplessly in mid-air.

So Mom had hated me all along.

So she had always wished I had died that year instead.

Every time she called me a slut in front of others, cursed me as trash, it was from her heart, not to train me, correct me, or protect me.

Mom bought a lot of strawberries from the market. After washing them, she came to my brother's grave.

My brother and I both loved strawberries.

But our family's circumstances weren't easy. We could only have them once or twice a year.

Each time, my brother would give me his share, only tasting one himself.

Mom would praise my brother for being thoughtful, but never said anything about me.

But ever since my brother died, Mom would buy strawberries from time to time to visit him.

When I followed behind wanting to taste one, it made Mom angry and she left me halfway.

After that, I grew to hate strawberries. I haven't eaten one once in all these years.

Mom knelt by my brother's gravestone, greedily hugging it. Tears soon covered her face.

I was so envious of my brother.

Envious that Mom could keep loving him.

Mom loved me too.

But these past few years, she never hugged me, never praised me.

I really, really wanted to hug Mom.

Mom suddenly remembered something and stopped crying.

She went a short distance away to get a basin of water and poured it where I had knelt.

Then she took a broom and swept.

"Starlight, from now on Mom won't bring that jinx here anymore, so she won't offend your eyes."

"Don't worry, I'll make her atone for you for the rest of her life. What she owes you, she can never repay."

I stood to the side, tears all dried up.

I had cried them all out.

Why?

Mom, why do you hate me so much?

I didn't deliberately seduce that terrifying man back then.

He tried to tear my clothes. My brother was accidentally killed trying to protect me.

I explained it to Mom many times. Mom kept insisting I was a slut.

But I really wasn't a slut. Why doesn't anyone believe me?

I couldn't leave Mom, so I could only follow her alone.

On the way down the mountain, Mom ran into a bachelor from the village.

I remembered himhis name was Rick Newman, and I was most afraid of him.

In previous years, after Mom visited the neighbors with me on Christmas night, she would leave me at his house.

He forced me to wash his clothes and cook. But I was only eight years old then. I couldn't wash clothes properly or reach the table.

He would take out a leather strap to whip my bottom and body, threatening me not to tell Mom.

I knew Mom wouldn't believe me, so I never told her about my injuries.

Mom never cared about me either, so she never noticed the scars on my body.

"Susan, why didn't you bring your daughter last night? I still have a lot of dirty clothes waiting for her to wash."

Mom pushed him away impatiently. "That damn girl is throwing a tantrum at me. I'll send her over in a couple days to work on her attitude. Just mentioning her makes me sick!"

I was shocked to hear this.

So Mom knew he made me wash clothes and cook.

So she also knew I was beaten.

Rick Newman didn't plan to let Mom go so easily. He blocked her path.

"If your daughter won't come, then you come."

"Your husband's never home. How about..."

Mom stepped on Rick Newman's face and went straight down the mountain.

I watched Mom return home looking lost, feeling terrible inside.

I wanted to hug her, comfort her.

Facing threats from such a vicious person, Mom must have been scared too, right?

Mom had barely sat down when Dad called.

"Susan, you said Hannah was home, so why would Mrs. Peterson tell me she's at the hospital and has no vital signs!"

I felt a little happy.

Was Mom finally going to discover I was dead?

I wondered if she would be sad for me when she found out.

But Mom's first reaction was to think Mrs. Peterson was lying.

"She's talking nonsense!"

"She must be cursing my daughter because I scolded her yesterday and she's upset. Don't let her fool you!"

Dad thought about it and agreed it was impossible.

After all, Mom had made me keep vigil at my brother's grave for a year before. There was a small house there with everything we needed. Nothing could happen to me.

"Alright, don't go cause trouble for her. As long as Hannah is fine. Just don't leave the child alone outside anymore."

After hanging up, Mom angrily rushed to my door, frantically pounding on it.

"Hannah, you're nothing but trouble!"

"You've been in there all day and still won't come out. You've really got some nerve!"

"Being this willful, how can you face your brother?"

Instead of my response, Mom heard an even more violent pounding at the front door.

Mom cursed as she went to open it. It was Mrs. Peterson and two police officers.

Mom swallowed the curses she wanted to say to Mrs. Peterson and smiled gently at the officers.

"Officers, what brings you here so suddenly?"

One of the officers unfolded a white document and said to Mom:

"Hello, are you a family member of Hannah Sweetwater? Hannah died at 2 AM last night after failed resuscitation attempts. This is the death certificate. We need to ask you some questions."