My Urn Their Tears Novel by Willow Everhart _ Novel



My Urn Their Tears Novel by Willow Everhart _ Novel

My Urn Their Tears Chapter 01

A reality show starring a wealthy family had recently blown up online.
During the live broadcast, someone brought me up.
Mom slung an arm around her adopted daughter Kathleen Russell and called me a compulsive liar.
My brother Stephen Russell’s voice was icy with indifference. "She’s a cold, ungrateful bitch."
Edwin Harrison, my childhood friend, frowned in disgust. "She’s a cold, ungrateful bitch."
Kathleen chimed in with a sickly sweet voice. "Mom, Steve, Eddie—please don't talk about Greta like that. Why don't we invite her to join the show? I'm sure she's turned over a new leaf by now."
A heavy silence fell over the group. But the live comments exploded.
Viewers were begging them to find me—they had to see for themselves what kind of person could be this hated by everyone.
Stephen finally lifted his head, eyes bored. "Whatever."
So the whole group, trailed by a huge camera crew, marched off in a dramatic procession to track me down.
I floated in the air, right on their tails.
I was honestly curious. Where did they even think they were going to find me?
***
The crowd soon swarmed a run-down old tenement building.
Trash piled high on the street corners, crawling with flies and stink bugs. The crew couldn’t help pinching their noses in disgust.
I circled above them, grateful I couldn’t smell a thing anymore.
Then, Mom, Stephen, and the others stepped out of their cars. Clad in limited-edition haute couture, they looked wildly out of place against the neighborhood’s squalor.
The live chat exploded in confusion.
"The biological daughter of the Russell family lives here?"
"Kathleen's dress alone could probably buy this entire building."
"Didn't you see the news? Three years ago, Gretchen caused her father's death and ran away from home."
"She's that awful? The Russells should never have taken her back in the first place."
"I've heard the stories. Everyone hates that woman. She's nothing like Kathleen, who has both Mr. Russell and Mr. Harrison protecting her."
The debate raged on in the comments.
Mom pulled out a silk handkerchief to shield Kathleen from the stench, then turned to Stephen. "Make Gretchen open the door."
Stephen took one step up the stairs and froze. He had no idea which unit was mine.
I had told him once. But at the time, he'd been busy comforting a tearful Kathleen and never bothered to remember.
"Room 201," Edwin muttered.
I wasn't surprised. Of everyone here, no one knew me better than Edwin.
Stephen shot Edwin a surprised look before heading up to the second floor. There was no doorbell, so Stephen could only bring himself to knock on the door.
But a long, long time passed, and the door remained shut.
Stephen's expression darkened.
"Oh, Steve, you're so thick. It's obvious no one's home," I whispered in his ear, mocking him.
He couldn't hear me, of course. He just stubbornly kept hammering away.
It was strange. Normally, Stephen would have stomped off in a rage by now, tossing out a cold remark like, "No manners at all."
His patience for me had always been razor-thin.
The audience in the livestream were getting restless.
"She's not home? Why don't they just call her?"
"They probably don't even have each other's numbers. Look at Mr. Russell—he doesn't even seem to know exactly where she lives."
"I heard Edwin and Gretchen grew up in the same orphanage. He's a medical prodigy with a stellar reputation. If even he says those things about her, she must be truly awful."
"I still want to see her join. The biological daughter vs. the adopted daughter on live TV? That's peak drama."
Another comment popped up: "This place looks dangerous. Is no one worried that something happened to her?"
Since it was a live variety show, the people on site could see the comments.
"Maybe Greta saw the show and ran off before we came..."
Kathleen lowered her head, looking the picture of heartbreak. "She must not want to see us. When she left, she blocked all of us.
"It's all my fault. If it wasn't for me..."
"What does this have to do with you? She's just ungrateful!"
Stephen stopped knocking. His voice was icy, filled with what felt like pure hatred. "She'd better hope she can hide forever."
I had heard words like that far too often when I was alive.
I didn't want to hear them anymore, so I drifted away from them.
Only after they finally consulted with the crew and decided to abandon the invitation and move on to the next segment did I float back.
Just as everyone was about to get into their cars, a woman in gaudy, heavy makeup came yawning down the stairs.

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