# Chapter 5: The Girl on the Floor
Hello everyone, it's me again! How are you all doing? Today I will continue to walk with you and review Chapter 5 of "Forget You Saw Her free digital audiobook." This is the chapter where everything changes. It is raw, haunting, and impossible to forget. So take a deep breath, because we are about to step into Andrea's worst moment—and the truth that comes with it.
The chapter opens with Andrea believing she is having an out-of-body experience. Dennis does not chase her down the hall. He stays on the landing, breathing hard, positioned near that picture of Jesus. She screams at him to stop, but he does not react. And that silence tells her everything. It is too late.
There is not much blood, but the girl on the floor—Andrea's own body—has turned a terrible shade of maroon. Her left temple is marked by a bruise so dark it looks black. Her chest is still. Her hands have stopped clawing at Pollie's leash. Andrea stares at herself, terrified, and runs to her bedroom. But when she tries to grab the doorknob and slam the door, nothing happens. She cannot feel the slick, worn metal. The thought finally crashes into her mind: *You're dead.*
She cannot be dead. She does not feel dead. But what does dead feel like? Less painful than being alive. Nothing hurts anymore—not physically. Her bedroom, which should be hot and stale and smelling of burnt leftovers, now feels and smells like nothing at all. The only things she can feel are panic, desperation, and guilt for leaving the girl on the floor.
She spins around her tiny room, unable to feel the uneven linoleum beneath her feet. The creaky daybed with the faded yellow quilt does not make a sound when she sits on it. She is only seventeen. And today is her birthday.
Then a noise from down the hall, followed by footsteps on the stairs, makes her jump. Dennis is on the move. A door slams downstairs—the kitchen door to the backyard. What is he doing now? Andrea does not want to go back into the hallway, but she cannot stay away. She walks back to the landing. The house is completely quiet again, like a moment of silence for the girl on the floor with blue-tinged lips and choppy auburn hair curling across her forehead at the cowlick.
The lone monarch butterfly earring lies a few feet from her hand, on the top step. Andrea kneels beside her body. Part of her still hopes this is a vivid nightmare. The girl looks like her—same haircut, same clothing, same tiny slices across her arms. But she is also a stranger. A 3D version of the girl Andrea has only ever seen flattened in photos and mirrors. The hollows in her cheeks are more painfully pronounced than Andrea ever realized. She is thin in a way that makes Andrea feel silly for ever wishing her pants fit looser. And she looks so vulnerable lying there that Andrea desperately wants to protect her from Dennis in a way she never could protect herself.
There is the mottled black bruise at her left temple. There are the ugly red indentations from the dog leash still wrapped tight around her neck. Andrea lays her hand across her throat to cover those marks from view. Suddenly, she remembers with vivid clarity how alive she had been while Dennis used that leash to snuff her out.
*"Hush up. You don't gotta suffer much more,"* he had said.
Like she was some fatally injured animal he had hit with his car. Like he was offering her a merciful end. But the girl's tightly clenched fingers, one still hooked beneath the leash, tell a different story. The numb shock and panic begin to shift into something else. When Andrea hit her head, Dennis did not run for help. He did not call the police with a shaking voice, saying his daughter had fallen and needed an ambulance. He knelt and wrapped that dog leash tight around her neck, as if it were the first inclination in his mind.
The back door opens again downstairs. Andrea freezes. A few seconds later, Dennis appears at the bottom of the stairs holding a wrinkled gray tarp under one arm. The rage builds inside her like steam in a pressure cooker. She screams that he killed her. Dennis does not bat an eye. He just sighs and starts up the stairs, wheezing softly like he is already tired of dealing with this mess.
She shrieks at him to get away from her, but he keeps trudging toward the body. Andrea glances at the clock in the entryway. Four o'clock. Bunny will be home in an hour. What will he tell her? Will she call the police? Andrea wants the police here now with a ferocity like hunger pangs. The feeling wells up inside her, pressing and powerful, with nowhere to go.
To her surprise, Dennis pauses on the stairs. His hooded, hound-dog eyes suddenly go wide. There are sirens in the distance, moving closer and getting louder. *"Shit,"* Dennis hisses, hesitating like he might run back down the staircase. Andrea stays where she is, prickling with desperation. Had a neighbor heard something and called the police? But just as hope starts to rise, the sirens fade and disappear.
Her heart sinks. The look of relief on Dennis's sagging face makes her want to tear him apart. Moving with purpose, he bounds the rest of the way up the steps. His left foot lands on the butterfly earring with a quiet crunch. He grunts as he picks up the pieces and places them on top of the tarp he has spread beside her body. He stands there staring at her for a few seconds, brow furrowed, eyes red and glassy. Is he holding back tears? Or is it from the alcohol? Then he shakes his head and clears his throat.
*"You were never really ours,"* he mutters as he squats and hefts her body onto the dirty, crinkled canvas. Then louder, again, like he is reassuring himself: *"You were never really ours."*
Of all the things Andrea thought he might say, she was not expecting that. He unwraps the dog leash from around her neck and inspects it. Then, reluctantly, like he hates to part with it, he sets it on top of the tarp too. *"Shoulda known that if your own family didn't want you, there might be a reason for it."*
Never really ours. Your own family didn't want you. Suddenly Andrea knows exactly what he is talking about. The memory thrusts itself to the front of her brain, sharp and painful like a long-buried sliver. A memory she never even realized she had until now. A memory that does not even make sense for her to have, since she was only a baby at the time. Yet there it is. Clear as day, she sees a mental image of their house, newer and cleaner than it is now. Dennis and Bunny, seventeen years younger. And Andrea, an infant in the arms of a middle-aged woman who is saying the words, *"Congratulations, the adoption is final,"* as she hands her over to a smiling Bunny.
*"Can't let Bunny see you like this, can we?"* Dennis mumbles, yanking Andrea away from the memory. Then he pulls the tarp over her face.
Everything—and nothing—makes sense now.
Three Months Later.
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## Reader's Impressions & Star Rating
This chapter hit me like a freight train. The horror is not just in the murder—it is in the quiet, domestic betrayal. Andrea's ghostly detachment, the way she cannot feel the floor, the doorknob, or even the stale air of her room, makes the trauma feel visceral and cold. Dennis's calm cruelty is terrifying. The adoption reveal lands like a blade in the dark. Every detail—the butterfly earring, the dog leash, the tarp, the way Dennis says *"You were never really ours"*—cuts deep. I felt Andrea's panic, her guilt, her rage, and her helplessness. The pacing is razor-sharp, and the emotional weight is immense. This is storytelling that refuses to look away.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.9 / 5 Stars
## Next Chapter Prediction
The chapter ends with "Three Months Later," which means time has passed, and the world has moved on—or pretended to. I predict Bunny has been told a lie. Maybe Dennis claimed Andrea ran away, or that she left with friends, or that she was never really theirs to begin with. Andrea, now a ghost, is likely tethered to the house, to Pollie, or to that broken butterfly earring. The adoption reveal opens a massive mystery: who was her real family? Why didn't they want her? And what does Dennis know about them?
I think the next chapter will show Andrea learning the rules of her new existence. Can she be seen? Can she move things? Can she haunt Dennis? I also suspect a new character will enter—someone connected to Andrea's past, or someone who senses her. The title "Forget You Saw Her" suggests someone *did* see her, and that someone may become the key to uncovering the truth. Expect a slow, eerie build toward a confrontation with Bunny, and a deeper dive into the adoption that changed Andrea's life before it was even hers.
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