I pleaded silently in my mind, "Flicker, just once."

With a soft click, the light actually flickered once.

Mom looked up and asked, "Is the voltage unstable?"

"Probably," Dad replied dismissively.

I focused my energy again. This time, I stared at the family photo on the refrigerator. It was taken last year, with me standing in the middle wearing a yellow dress.

"Fall down. Let them see me," I thought.

The photo didn't move at all. I tried again, using all my energy. The edge of the picture lifted slightly before falling back into place. I wondered if this was the extent of my capabilities.

Mom wrapped up the cake she had set aside and put it into the fridge. I knew that it was meant for me, but I would never be able to eat it again.

Late into the night, neither of my parents slept. Mom sat in the living room, folding my dresses and my socks. She worked slowly, picking each item up only to put it down again. She held up my favorite red dress. Her fingers lingered on the tiny flower at the neckline for a long time.

Dad stood on the balcony, smoking one cigarette after another. His muffled voice drifted through the glass door. "Do you think Emilia might feel like we've abandoned her? She's observant and sensitive."

"She won't," Mom answered, though her voice lacked conviction.

"I gave Mr. Harris very clear instructions. We're just scaring Ray for two days, and he's supposed to provide her with plenty of food and water. Once we bring her back, we'll explain everything and treat her even better."

They fell silent for a long while.

Dad put out his cigarette and sighed. "I'm still uneasy. I'm going to get Emilia right now. Acting is one thing, but we can't actually let her spend the night there. She must be terrified."

Just as Dad's hand touched the doorknob, Mom shouted, "If you dare go tonight, I'm taking Ray and leaving!"

Dad froze. "She's only eight years old."

Mom refused to back down. "If you bring her back now, she will suffer for nothing, and Ray will be scared for nothing. This house will never know peace again. Do you want to raise a thief, or do you want to destroy this family?"

"But Emilia—"

Mom cut him off. "She's perfectly safe. Mr. Harris took my money to do a job; he knows what he's doing. If you go now, you're humiliating me and ruining this family."

Dad slowly turned around. Under the light, his face looked pale. I noticed that his fingers were trembling. When he used to hold me, those hands were large and steady, lifting me high into the air. Now, they shook violently.

I floated in front of him. "Go, Dad. If you come get me, I'll tell you that I don't blame you. I just fell once. It didn't hurt."

I concentrated my energy once more, not on the light or the photo, but on Dad. I wanted him to sense my presence.

I reached out my transparent hands and gently placed them over his trembling ones. Even though I couldn't touch him, I could feel the warmth of his palms.

Dad suddenly froze. He looked down at his hands. His eyes were clouded with confusion.

"What's wrong?" Mom asked.

"It's nothing," Dad murmured. "I just feel like Emilia is here."

Mom's tone softened slightly. "You're imagining things. Go to sleep; we'll talk tomorrow."

He spoke again at last. His voice was so quiet it was barely audible. "Just two days. I'll go get her immediately after two days."

Mom stared at him. "You promise?"

Dad didn't speak. He only nodded very slowly. He turned and walked back to the couch, sinking into it as he covered his face with his hands. The light from the chandelier fell upon his head, revealing several strands of white hair that hadn't been there before.

I drifted before him, wanting to touch his hair, yet my hand still passed right through. It turned out that after dying, I couldn't even comfort Dad.

At that moment, the door to Raymond's bedroom creaked open just a crack. He peeked through the opening with one eye, and he was terrified. He had heard everything.

The next day, Raymond was gone.

By the time Mom noticed, his small bed was empty, and the blanket was folded unevenly. It was the first time he had ever made his own bed.

"Ray?"

Mom called out as she headed toward the bathroom. She searched under the bed, inside the wardrobe, and out on the balcony, but she found no trace of him.

Her voice began to tremble. "Did he go to the grocery store to look for Emilia?"

I moved faster than my parents. The instant the thought formed, I drifted to the front of the grocery store. Sure enough, Raymond was there.

The neighborhood was nearly empty in the early morning, except for a few elderly people out exercising. Raymond stood at the store entrance. His small hands were tightly clenched around the hem of his shirt.

Mr. Harris was unloading supplies. When he spotted Raymond, he froze for a moment. "Raymond? What are you—"

Raymond's voice was quiet but resolute. "Mr. Harris, please, let my sister go."

He pulled a handful of change from his pocket. There were single dollars and several coins. He carefully arranged them in a row on the ground. "This is everything I've saved. I'm giving it all to you. I won't ever steal anything again."

Then, he dropped to his knees and begged him. "I really won't steal anymore. Please let Emilia come home."

He kept pleading until his voice turned hoarse.

Mr. Harris was flustered and tried to pull him up. "Kid, get up now."

However, Raymond refused to stand. He continued begging.

People nearby began to gather. A woman buying groceries, an old man walking his dog, and students on their way to school all stared at them.

"What's going on here?"

"Isn't that Franklin?"

"Why is this child kneeling here and begging?"

The chatter rose like a tide. Mr. Harris' face flushed, then drained of color. He pulled out his phone and dialed frantically. "Hello? Callie?"

He turned his back and lowered his voice. "Your son is kneeling here in front of me. Yes, he's begging me… There are people everywhere… I can't keep up this act anymore!"

After hanging up, Mr. Harris hauled Raymond to his feet. "Your mom's on her way. We'll go get Emilia, okay?"

Raymond's eyes lit up instantly. He scrambled up, not even bothering to brush the dirt off his knees. "Really? Can Emilia actually come home?"

"Yes, really," Mr. Harris replied.

I drifted to Raymond's side, wanting to dust him off. However, my fingers passed straight through his knee, and I could do nothing. Still, I saw the radiance in his eyes. That determination of wanting to save his sister made him look like a little hero.

My parents arrived shortly after.

Mom tried to take Raymond's hand, but he pulled away. "I want to go get Emilia."

His tone held a persistence Mom had never heard before. She was stunned.

Dad crouched down and looked Raymond in the eye. "Ray, I promise you, we're going to get Emilia right now."

"You promise?" Raymond asked.

"I promise," Dad answered.

On the way to the warehouse, Raymond was restless. He pressed his face against the car window, staring outside without blinking. "Are we almost there? How much further? Will Emilia be mad?"

Mom held his hand and said softly, "No, Emilia won't be angry."

Her voice was gentle, yet I noticed that her hand was shaking. Dad remained silent the entire way, driving very fast.

I hovered on the roof of the car, watching the familiar city streak past beneath me. The sunlight was bright, spreading across the streets and over pedestrians who were alive and able to feel its warmth. As for me, I was only a shadow.

They reached the warehouse. Mr. Harris' hands trembled slightly as he unlocked the door. He rambled, "Emilia is inside. I even brought her bread and water yesterday…"

Raymond rushed inside without hesitation. "Emilia!"