I Hauled the Dead to Buy My Freedom

Five years cut off. Five years of hauling bodies. Finally, I had the down payment for my own place. I was waiting for my final paycheck when I ran straight into my brother, Cole. He was there picking out a plot for his adopted sister’s dead dog. Our eyes locked. In the kind of unspoken truce we’d mastered years ago, we both looked away instantly. It wasn’t until my boss handed me the ten-thousand-dollar cash envelope that Cole let out a low, scornful chuckle. “Well, Skylar,” he sneered, looking me up and down. “Five years gone, and you’re actually doing okay for yourself.” I glanced at the black card clutched in his hand. “It’s fine,” I countered, my voice flat. “Still not as comfortable as Willow Reed’s dog.” A million-dollar burial plot, and he hadn’t even blinked. Meanwhile, the total price for my small condo was just thirty thousand. My brother’s voice tightened, a familiar, awkward attempt at dominance. “I know you were never meant for a rough life. Apologize now, and I’ll let you come home.” I shook my head, carefully tucking the cash deep into my jeans pocket. I’d already contacted the agent. Any minute now, I would have a home that was truly mine. 1 I left the mortuary and headed to meet my real estate agent, Sarah Lane. On the way, I stopped and bought a small celebratory cake. Sarah was genuinely kind. I’d dragged her to see countless properties over the years, only to back out at the last minute for one reason or another. Now that it was finally settled, the cake felt like the right way to share the relief and joy. I hadn’t walked far from the bakery before a hand clamped down on my wrist from behind. I gasped, startled. The cake slipped from my grasp, hitting the sidewalk and shattering into a messy pile of frosting and crumbs. Furious, I spun around—and crashed, eyes wide open, into Cole’s dark, rigid gaze. I froze for a second. His tone was a whip-crack of cold steel. “You don’t have anything you need to explain to me?” Frustration instantly boiled up. I yanked my arm free. “Explain what?” He pursed his lips and scanned me from head to toe. “You are a Jensen. How can you work in a mortuary? You might not find it disgusting, but I’m worried you’ll bring bad luck to Mom and me.” I dropped to a crouch to inspect the ruined cake. “Then stay away from me if you’re so worried about bad luck,” I shot back. “I’m earning an honest living. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He grabbed my wrist again, forcefully pulling me upright. “Skylar, why do you insist on talking to me like this? You’re the one who walked away five years ago. You still can’t get over it?” My patience was gone. I tore my hand away. “You’re the one who can’t get over it!” “Cole Jensen, we cut off all ties. Can you just leave me alone?” His face went completely dark. “Mom is sick. She talks about you constantly. How can you be so heartless? Do you have any conscience?” Now I was the heartless one. Five years ago, Willow had deliberately sicced her dog, Apollo, on my cat, Milo, killing him. I’d only hit the dog once in my grief, and Cole had slapped me. “Apollo is just a dog,” he’d roared then. “He doesn’t know any better. How can you be so cruel?” I’d been hysterical, sobbing, turning to my mother for comfort. Instead, she’d drenched me with a bucket of cold water. “That stray cat you brought back from the country has scratched up all the furniture. It’s dead, so it’s dead. What are you crying for?” Those two sentences were the final, crushing blow. That’s when I’d decided to leave and sever all ties. Cole’s face was still set in a scowl. “It was such a small thing. Does it really merit this reaction?” Small thing? Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them away, refusing to let him see them fall. Milo’s death was just the ignition. The final straw that broke me. From the moment I was brought back to that house—the house I was supposed to have been born in—Willow had been a constant source of torment. And my own mother and brother had never once stood by me. Willow claimed I stole her money. They searched my room, frisked me. Even when they found nothing, they never made her apologize. Because I had lived in the country for twenty years, my hands were often chapped and raw, and my face easily flushed red in the cold. Willow took photos of me and posted them in the class group, leading the ridicule. I was twenty and deeply self-conscious. Hiding my swollen, cracked hands behind my back, I finally lost it and kicked her in the chest. That was the only time I’d ever physically fought back. The result? That night, Mom made me kneel in the snow and write “I’m sorry” one hundred times. My affection for them had been a candle burning brightly when I first returned home. Over three years, it had slowly, painfully guttered out. Milo’s death gave me the resolve I needed to leave. I dropped out of the elite prep school and entered the workforce. As I walked out the door, Cole’s face was thunderous, his voice cold with threat: “Think carefully. You are nothing without this family. One word from me, and you won’t even be able to find a job.” I didn’t say a word. I just took the two worn suitcases I’d brought from the country. After that, the long, brutal search for work began. True to his word, Cole had me blacklisted. No matter what job I landed, I was fired within two months. The reasons were always vague, always different. But it only took a year for me to figure out a loophole. Mortuary transport: Five hundred dollars per body. It was grim, taboo work, but I was good at it. In four years, after all my expenses, I had saved up enough cash. I was satisfied. Cole stood before me, his expression the same furious, controlling mask he wore the day I left. Looking at him, a wave of cold revulsion rose from the pit of my stomach. “The heartless ones are the people you choose to protect. From now on, let’s pretend we’re strangers.” I bent down, finally collected the pieces of the broken cake, and walked away. His cold, cutting voice floated after me. “No matter what, you are not working that job anymore. Willow is a member of the Bellevue Animal Protection League. Look at you, Skylar. A disgrace.” 2 I ignored him, tossed the ruined cake into a nearby trash can, and bought two coffees. The encounter had made me late, but Sarah smiled brightly when I finally arrived. “Skylar, here’s the contract. Take a look.” I handed her a coffee, feeling a flush of guilt. “Sorry I held you up. I meant to get you a cake, but it was… ruined by a dog on the way here.” Her smile didn’t waver. She was a master of professionalism. “Good things take time! Let’s call it fate.” Warmed by her kindness, I picked up the contract. I didn’t truly understand the legalese, but a transaction this huge—this monumental step toward my freedom—felt like it needed time and careful attention. The Jensen house had never felt safe, only like a place of dependency. Owning my own home had become an obsession after the cut-off. Sarah waited patiently until I finished. She handed me a pen. “Sign when you’re ready.” I nodded, reaching for the pen, when her phone suddenly rang. “Company call,” she mouthed, smiling, and tapped ‘answer.’ The next second, she went completely rigid. “Fired? What… what did I do wrong?” A terrible premonition flooded me. My stomach clenched. Sure enough. When Sarah hung up, her eyes were instantly wet, her face blotchy with tears. “Ms. Jensen, you have such a powerful brother, one who can ruin my career with a few words. Why were you wasting my time looking at properties?” My pupils contracted in horror. I quickly tried to explain. “I cut off all ties with them years ago! That was Cole Jensen, and he—” “I think you’re just messing with me!” She leaped to her feet. Furiously, she snatched the contract from my hands. She reached for the coffee, intending to splash it on me, but ultimately just slammed the cup against the wall near my feet. The tea bucket burst open, splattering the floor. I tried one last time to explain. I opened my mouth, but she was already out the door. I stood there for a long time, stunned. Finally, I pulled out my phone and called Cole. He answered instantly. I couldn’t control the rage in my voice. “What the hell do you want! Fine, you want to mess with me, but the agent was innocent!” “Sister…” Willow’s soft voice answered from the receiver. “Brother is busy arranging for Apollo’s ashes. Tell me what you need.” 3 I had nothing to say to Willow. I was about to hang up when she spoke again. “To be honest, Sis, I forgave you a long time ago.” “Brother and Mom really miss you. Why don’t you just come home?” Then, Cole’s voice cut in. “Who is it?” “It’s Sky. I’m telling her to come home.” “Put on speaker.” I swore under my breath and hung up the phone decisively. I decided I had to try one last time. I went to the real estate company. Sarah was gone. I found the owner and explained, in painful detail, my relationship with Cole. I begged him not to fire Sarah, insisting that I was the reason for the trouble. The owner looked troubled. “Your brother offered a very high settlement for her departure. It’s actually a good thing for Sarah. She can still find another job, but now she has a generous payout.” The implication was clear: Sarah was not coming back. I felt like I’d been plunged into ice water. My blood ran cold. Once again, I realized that confronting Cole meant utter, humiliating defeat. After a long moment, I pressed my lips together and asked, “That condo. Can I still buy it?” “That one was purchased by Mr. Jensen. He bought up that unit and several similar ones nearby. They’re all reserved.” The owner pulled out two marketing flyers and handed them to me. “Ms. Jensen, you might want to look at these developments. The prices are comparable, but the location is a little further out…” “I’ll take this one.” I tapped a random spot on one of the flyers. Then, I pulled out the ten thousand dollars I had just been paid and handed it to him. In my line of work, there was a superstition: dealing with so much spiritual cash required real currency to keep things grounded. That’s why I was always paid in bills. Perhaps he hadn’t seen this before. The owner looked at me strangely, pulled out a cash counter, and verified the money. Then, he pushed the contract across the desk. This time, I didn’t read it. I flipped directly to the last page and signed. The owner hesitated. “This one’s down payment is twenty thousand more. Are you sure you looked it over?” “Yes. Give me some time. The deposit is paid; I’m not running away.” The owner sighed. “I don’t understand you and Mr. Jensen. You’re family. Why go to all this trouble?” Middle-aged men always feel the need to offer advice. I didn’t want to hear it. I grabbed my bag, walked out, and called my boss at the mortuary. “I’m coming in today.” He sounded surprised. “I thought you needed a couple of days off?” “I don’t. I won’t be taking any time off for the next two months.” “Alright, come on in as usual.” I hung up and contacted Sarah. She wouldn’t answer my calls, so I sent her a barrage of texts, apologizing profusely. I must have sent a dozen “I’m sorry” messages. Finally, she replied with a single sentence: [Forget it. Let’s pretend we never met.] Any further messages I sent received the dreaded red exclamation point. I stared at the phone for a long time before heading to work that afternoon. The funeral home was quiet. As I walked in, I saw Willow and Mom. They were clutching an urn, sobbing hysterically. It must have been Apollo’s ashes. I calmly shifted my gaze and walked toward the work area. My boss had already told me I only had one body transfer scheduled. I located the deceased’s family and, with a coworker, prepared to lift the body. Just as we were about to lower him into the casket, Cole’s voice exploded behind me. “Skylar Jensen! What are you still doing here?” Before I could react, he grabbed my arm with immense force. My grip slipped. The body fell with a sickening thud. It hit the floor face-first. 4 The deceased’s head cracked open. He must have died recently, as the blood hadn’t clotted. A thick, scarlet pool began to spread slowly. The sight was gruesome and terrifying. The mortuary fell deathly silent. No one had anticipated this chaos. Then, the deceased’s family reacted. “You trash! What did you do?!” The lead man’s eyes went red with fury. He lunged and kicked me in the lower back. I stumbled back several steps, collapsing painfully onto the floor. Before I could get up, two women surrounded me, slapping me from both sides. “You bitch! You cracked my father’s skull! What kind of monster are you?” The blows landed hard. My forehead was slick with cold sweat. I quickly covered my head with my arms. “Stop it!” Cole shouted, pushing the two women aside and shielding me. “She didn’t do it on purpose! You can’t assault her!” The enraged family wasn’t listening. They instantly swarmed Cole. His bodyguards rushed in. The scene erupted into utter chaos. My boss quickly stepped in to apologize and offer compensation. But the family was relentless, and Cole’s attitude was still cold and rigid. The situation was escalating out of control. I gripped my aching lower back and forced myself up. Then, with a painful thump, I dropped to my knees before the body. “It was my fault. Please, stop fighting!” After saying this, I bowed, pressing my forehead to the floor nine times in a loud, painful ritual. Then, I took a Ritual Atonement Marker from the boss—a packet of ceremonial paper—and lit it on the spot. This was a grave spiritual gesture, a public penance meant to spiritually compensate the deceased and his family for the desecration. Seeing the fire and the absolute nature of my submission, the family’s rage subsided slightly. Mom quickly stumbled over, apologizing profusely and offering a generous financial settlement. Her attitude was solicitous, and her offer was tempting. The family finally relented. They screamed a few final insults at me and then, pulling the casket, they left. The second they were gone, Cole grabbed my arm, his voice raw with urgency. “I told you to quit this job! Look at you! Let me see, are you hurt?” I pushed his hand away, my face expressionless. Then, I picked up a nearby ceremonial staff. Before anyone could react, I lunged forward and brought the staff down hard onto Apollo’s urn! CRACK! A loud, sharp sound. The urn shattered. The ashes of that cruel dog scattered across the floor. I didn’t stop. My eyes blazing, I brought the staff down again and again. “Skylar—” Willow shrieked and rushed at me. My eyes narrowed. I swung the staff directly at her! “Willow!” Cole screamed, rushing to cover her. The staff cracked against his back with a sickening force. He gasped, a strangled sound of pain, his face instantly draining of color. Mom stared in shock, then yelled at the two bodyguards. “Are you blind?! Stop Skylar now!” Before I could swing a second time, the bodyguards had me pinned. They ripped the staff from my hands. I glared at Cole, my heart pounding with hatred. “You agreed to the cut-off, but you still provoke me everywhere I go!” “What do you want from me? What will it take for you to finally stop forcing me into the dirt?” Cole’s forehead was covered in cold sweat. Before he could speak, Mom slapped me across the face. “I knew it! You’ve never let go of that silly incident! You have such a fierce temper, Skylar! Such a small heart!” “How could I have given birth to a daughter like you!” Ignoring the stinging on my cheek, I let out a mocking, cold laugh. “I stopped being your daughter a long time ago.” “Shut up! Don’t provoke Mom further!” Cole roared. He then turned to my boss, who was still standing there, stunned. “Skylar is my sister. I forbid her from working here. As of right now, she’s terminated!” “By what right do you make that decision for me?” I wanted to leap at him, to slap him until his face was as bruised as my own. The boss looked from Cole to me, then sighed. “Resolve your family issues outside. Skylar caused a major incident; she would have been fired regardless.” My heart chilled, freezing completely. “Let go!” Knowing the fight was useless here, I ripped free of the bodyguards and ran out. I had to call the police.