Mom, Calling You with My Love

The internal components of my body were damaged, causing me to move slowly, like an old man nearing the end of his days.

Christina, seeing me like this, assumed I was still acting. "Amy, could you hurry up? Do I have to clean up your mess for you?"

Under her stern command, I slowly extracted the knife from my chest.

"Mom, is Amy really okay?" Nancy asked with genuine concern.

"Don't worry," Christina replied dismissively. "The knife didn't draw any blood, so it didn't penetrate the flesh. You don't need to pity her."

Christina spoke as though I were less important than the family's pets.

"Do you think Amy is as delicate as you? She's been toughened up from growing up in the fields."

Nancy's eyes lit up with a realization. "Mom, remember when you were helping me with my homework when I was little? You mentioned the sturdy ox, saying its hide was tough and it was excellent for plowing."

Nancy's comparison of me to a working ox was filled with contempt.

But Christina paid no mind to it.

Her attention was always focused on Nancy, the child she had adopted from the orphanage and nurtured with care.

A loud clatter drew both their eyes toward me.

I had let the knife slip, and it now lay on the floor.

Nancy, feigning concern, rushed over. "Amy, you really scared me just now. You shouldn't be so reckless. What if you had actually hurt yourself?"

Her words placed all the blame on me as though I had intentionally made the knife stab myself. Christina stood by, observing with quiet disapproval, convinced that my every action was just a ploy to grab her attention.

She clicked her tongue in frustration and glanced at the new knife on the ground.

The tip of the blade glinted with a strange metallic sheen, resembling mechanical parts.

Christina noticed but said nothing, not even a simple inquiry about whether I was hurt.

Instead, Nancy gazed at the knife with a wistful expression. "What a shame about the knife. I really liked using it to cut the bread."

Hearing Nancy's disappointment, Christina immediately soothed her, "It's just a knife. I'll take you to buy a new one that you like later."

It seemed that my well-being was worth less than Nancy's minor inconvenience.

"Amy, look at what you've done! Nancy's favorite knife is ruined because of you! Apologize to Nancy right now!" Christina's outrage was palpable.

The absurdity of the situation was overwhelming.

Nancy had stabbed me, and now, it was my fault.

Even my own mother wanted me to apologize to Nancy.

Following my programming, which was designed to adhere to Christina's directives, I offered an apology to Nancy without a hint of emotion. After all, robots lacked feelings.

However, this only seemed to aggravate Christina further.

She glared at me, her voice rising in anger. "I've always said you've been a bad influence, picking up all sorts of nasty habits from the country folk! You can't even apologize sincerely."

Her emotional outburst was intense. "I'd rather Nancy were my real daughter!"

The declaration was unexpected.

It seemed Christina hadn't forgotten who her biological daughter really was.

Despite my return to the family home, Christina's treatment of me was far from maternal. Instead of love, I felt a stifling control.

When she found me after all those years, her first response wasn't to comfort me for the suffering I endured. Instead, she compared me to Nancy, whom she had raised with care and affection.

Nancy excelled in ballet and had a graceful physique, while I was awkward and untrained. Christina pushed me hard, forcing me to perform splits, leaps, and spins.

Whenever I failed to master a move, she'd beat my legs with a stick and tack on extra hours of practice.

Eventually, my pelvis became deformed, and I ended up in the hospital. Christina merely sighed, "What a disappointment. If only Nancy were my real daughter."

With that, she lost interest in me entirely and left me alone in the hospital.

Now, even though I was no longer alive, Christina's specially programmed robot still obeyed her every command. Why, then, does she still long for Nancy to be her biological daughter?