Chapter 2: The Eyes Beneath the White Lid
“NOAH!””
Arthur lunged forward as his son slammed the hammer into the coffin a second time.
The white lid cracked open with a sharp, ugly snap. A piece of painted wood flew across the marble floor and skidded beneath the front row of chairs.
Mourners screamed.
Someone began praying aloud.
Arthur caught Noah around the waist, but the boy twisted free with the strength of someone who believed every second mattered.
“LET ME HELP HER!”” Noah cried.
“I'm trying!””
“THEN OPEN IT!””
Arthur stared at the widening hole.
The interior of the coffin was clearly visible beneath the bright chapel lights. White satin lining surrounded a pale face partly obscured by the broken lid.
At first, Arthur couldn't understand what he was seeing.
His mind rejected it.
The face was too familiar.
The curve of the cheek. The small scar near the eyebrow. The lashes he had watched flutter when Emily laughed at something ridiculous on television.
Then the woman's eyes opened.
Wide.
Terrified.
Alive.
Arthur stopped breathing.
A gray strip of tape covered Emily's mouth.
Her eyes flooded with tears as she struggled against the narrow space around her. One shoulder shifted beneath the satin lining, and her fingers scraped helplessly against the inside edge of the coffin.
Arthur staggered toward her.
“Emily?””
Her gaze locked onto his.
“Emily, baby, can you hear me?””
She nodded frantically.
Arthur reached through the broken opening, his hands shaking so badly that he could barely find a place to grip the damaged lid.
“Oh, my God.””
The words escaped him in a whisper.
“Oh, my God. Emily.””
He grabbed the edge of the cracked wood and pulled.
A section of the lid shifted, revealing more of her face and the black fabric of the dress she had been buried in. Emily tried to lift her head, but exhaustion dragged it back against the satin pillow.
Noah dropped the hammer.
It struck the marble with a hollow clatter.
“Mommy!””
He rushed forward and dropped to his knees beside the coffin.
“Mommy, I'm here!””
Emily's eyes moved toward him.
The moment she recognized her son, her expression crumpled. Tears spilled down both sides of her face. She tried to reach for him, but her arm was trapped beneath the loosened lining.
Noah grabbed her hand through the opening.
“I'm sorry,” he sobbed.
“I'm sorry I took so long.””
Arthur turned sharply.
“What do you mean, took so long?””
Noah didn't answer.
He pressed his forehead against his mother's fingers.
“I heard you,” he whispered.
“I knew you weren't gone.””
Emily squeezed his hand weakly.
Arthur stared at them.
The chapel seemed to tilt around him.
He had spent three days believing his wife was dead. Three days choosing flowers, answering relatives, signing documents, and listening to people describe Emily in the past tense.
Three days while she had apparently been trapped somewhere he couldn't imagine.
He pulled out his phone with trembling fingers.
“Call emergency services!”” he shouted.
“Right now!””
A woman in the second row was already dialing.
“Yes, we need an ambulance,” she said, struggling to speak clearly.
“A woman has been found alive inside a coffin at a funeral. Please hurry!””
The funeral director pushed through the crowd.
“Everybody needs to step away,” he announced.
“This is a medical situation, and we need to preserve the scene.””
Arthur rounded on him.
“Preserve the scene?””
“I mean we need to allow trained professionals to handle this.””
“Then get them here!””
“They're already being contacted.””
“Then stop standing there!””
The director's jaw tightened.
“Arthur, you're understandably upset. But damaging the coffin further could complicate—”
Arthur seized him by the lapels.
“My wife is alive inside a box you told me contained her dead body!””
Gasps rippled through the mourners.
The director's folder slipped from beneath his arm. Papers scattered across the marble.
“Arthur,” he said quietly, “let go of me.””
“Tell me what happened to her.””
“I don't know.””
“YOU WERE RESPONSIBLE FOR HER BODY!””
Two men hurried forward and pulled Arthur away before the confrontation could escalate. He barely noticed them.
His eyes remained fixed on Emily.
She was moving her head from side to side now, fighting to stay conscious.
Arthur rushed back to her.
“Baby, don't close your eyes. Please. Look at me.””
Emily looked at him.
Her fingers tightened around his wrist.
Then she began shaking her head.
“No?”” Arthur whispered.
“What are you trying to tell me?””
Emily tried to speak through the tape.
Only a muffled, broken sound emerged.
Arthur leaned closer.
“I'm here. You're safe. I'm going to get you out.””
She shook her head harder.
Her eyes darted past him.
Toward the funeral director.
Arthur followed her gaze.
The director had crouched to gather the scattered paperwork. His hands moved quickly, collecting the sheets and sliding them back into the leather folder.
One page remained on the floor near Arthur's shoe.
He bent down and picked it up.
It was a copy of Emily's funeral authorization.
Her full name appeared at the top.
Beneath it was the date her death had supposedly been confirmed, followed by a signature and a series of official-looking markings.
Arthur stared at the page.
“I never signed this.””
The director looked up.
“What?””
Arthur held the document between them.
“This authorization. I never signed it.””
The director stood slowly.
“Your signature was obtained through the proper process.””
“Then why does it look nothing like mine?””
The mourners began whispering again.
Arthur turned the paper over, searching for an explanation. His fingers stopped at a handwritten note near the bottom.
The ink was fresh enough to remain dark beneath the chapel lights.
*Do not delay the burial.*
Arthur read the words twice.
Then he looked at the director.
“Who wrote this?””
The man's face had gone pale.
“It's an internal instruction.””
“From whom?””
“Arthur, this isn't the time.””
“FROM WHOM?””
Emily suddenly jerked against the coffin lining.
Arthur dropped the paper and rushed to her.
Her hand clamped around his wrist with surprising strength.
She stared directly into his eyes.
Then she shook her head again and forced a muffled sound through the gray tape.
Arthur bent close enough to feel her breath against his cheek.
“What is it, sweetheart?””
Emily's eyes filled with fresh tears.
She tried to speak.
The tape stretched against her mouth.
And then, with every ounce of strength she had left, she moved her lips beneath it.
Arthur couldn't hear the words.
But he understood one thing from the terror in her face.
May you like
She wasn't afraid of the coffin anymore.
She was afraid of someone standing outside it.
