The words on my phone screen seemed to burn into my mind.
I've been here all along.
My hands shook so badly that I almost dropped the phone.
"That's impossible," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I was there. I held his hand. I watched him take his last breath. I saw them bury him."
Victor slowly stood up and moved closer to me.
"Lara, look at me." His voice was calm but serious. "Think about it. Your father's funeral was closed-casket. They told you it was because of how the illness had changed him."
He paused, watching my face.
"What if that wasn't the real reason?"
I stared at him, unable to respond.
Before I could say anything, the front door creaked open.
My mother walked into the house.
She wasn't carrying her doctor's bag. Her coat hung over one arm, and she looked at us
