Chapter 3
Mom dragged herself into the room, completely exhausted.
She broke down, sobbing and screaming hysterically. She covered her face and knelt on the floor. In a brief moment of breathlessness, she spotted me lying on the bed. With a look of pure resentment, she lunged at me.
She yelled, "Erica, how could you be so heartless? Someone bullied your mom, and you didn't even stand up for me. You are still sleeping!
"How can you sleep so soundly? Your dad doesn't want you anymore. He left us for that homewrecker, Claire.
"It's all your fault. You're so useless. You can't even keep your own father around!"
Her tears fell onto my cheek. They slid down my face and seeped into my closed eyes, as if I were crying myself.
A soul couldn't shed tears.
Even though my chest was tight and heavy, and my nose felt blocked, my eyes couldn't produce a single tear.
I sniffled, reached out to wipe Mom's tears away, but my hand just passed right through her face.
I was already dead.
I could never touch Mom again, never feel her arms around me.
I curled up into a ball, wedging myself between Mom and my own lifeless body, desperately reaching for her face.
Mom's voice echoed in my ears. "If only I'd given birth to a son, Edward would've cared.
"How long are you going to keep acting like you're asleep?
"Fine, since you're so stubborn, I'm not talking to you anymore."
Mom was strict and always meant what she said.
After that, she didn't say another word.
Time seemed to drag on endlessly in my mind.
The silence felt like a giant web, every strand woven with endless darkness, trapping me inside with no way out.
I started to shake, reaching out to Mom in desperation. As a faint smile appeared on her lips, I finally shouted, "Mom, I'm sorry.
"Mom, please, talk to me.
"Mom, I'll do whatever you want, anything at all.
"Mom, Mom, Mom... Just look at me, please, Mom!"
She couldn't hear the desperate wails of my soul.
She took the silence of my corpse as my reply.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
Claire arrived alone, carrying a medical bag.
"Olivia, you know I'm a doctor. I'm concerned about Erica. Let me check her out," Claire said.
Mom was still angry because of me, so she glared at Claire. "Get lost. I don't need your phony sympathy."
Claire bit her lip, her expression tinged with helplessness. "Even if you don't like me, you shouldn't take Erica's health lightly. No matter what, she's still Edward's daughter. Do you really think I'd harm her?"
Mom braced herself against the door, sneering. "Who knows? Anyway, Erica is fine. She's sleeping soundly. You should go."
"She's been asleep this whole time?" Claire noticed something strange in Mom's reply.
With a frown, Claire pushed past Mom and forced her way inside.
Claire was so familiar with our place that she easily found my room.
She lifted the covers, exposing my small, curled-up, motionless body.
She stared at the half of my face buried in the pillow, and then gently lifted my head.
"What do you think you're doing?" Mom snapped.
Claire looked down, her expression tinged with sorrow. "Olivia, Erica is gone."
Mom got furious.
Claire shook her head, pointing at the livid marks on my cheek. "From the looks of it, Erica has been dead for about six hours."
"Come on, Claire, if you're going to make up stories, at least pick something that makes sense. Erica's face is always red from allergies. It's nothing unusual," Mom snapped.
After I became crippled, Mom encouraged me to start painting.
I could pretty much recreate anything I saw onto paper, and Dad actually praised me for it once.
Sadly, I was allergic to the paint.
Every time I wanted to paint, I had to take allergy medicine first.
If I didn't take the medicine, the allergic reaction would leave me gasping for air.
The worst time, my whole body swelled up and I was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance.
I ended up staying there for nearly twenty days, missing the art competition Mom had signed me up for. Once again, I failed to meet her expectations.
After that, there were always paints in my room, so I could try to get used to them.