The cold rain soaked me to the bone. I shivered under my new wool jacket, now ruined by mud. Staring at a fresh grave, Mom promised everything would be alright.

She lied.

15 years later and that memory still haunts me. Everytime I think of Father buried beneath, I’m pierced again with that night. The coldness never left me.

“You’ll get the job?” Mom says, cleaning dirt from her fingers.

I do not look her in the eye as I say, “I know.”

I can’t look at her the same after that night.

With tired arms, I grab my purse and head out.

The cool breeze sends shivers through me and only further freeze my nerves.

I open the doors to Setts Headquarters, the office of the famous Setts Company, popular for its selling of luxury shoes.

I walk in, clicking my heels.

“Hello, Vanessa,” an older man says.

I look up and pale in dead cold fear.

“Father…” I whisper.

Father, the man I buried at 5 years old, stands before me with an aged face and a large tag that says CEO.

“Your mother won’t win this time,” he says. “She may have buried me, but I’ll die again before she buries you too.”

The image of Mom in the kitchen, cleaning dirt off her hands comes back to me.

She wouldn’t.

“She killed you, didn’t she,” I whisper, tears pooling in my eyes.

“What did she tell you? What lie did she spin?”

“She said your heart failed and that burying you that night would bring you immediate peace. I always thought something was off, but I didn’t—“

“Want to ruin your mother’s image. I know.”

Suddenly a burning rage simmers within me. For once I burn.

I hate lies.