Mom, I Don't Blame You Anymore

On my fifth birthday, my parents showed up at my birthday party later than usual. They brought with them a skinny little girl who couldn't seem to speak at all.

I rushed over, hoping to hug Mom, only to get knocked down by her. That was how I fell into the ten-foot cake that my parents had specifically picked out for me. Buttercream filled my nose and mouth, suffocating me to no end.

When I managed to climb out of the mess, I burst out in tears and asked Dad to cuddle me. But Dad retracted his hands while looking conflicted.

"Don't blame your mom, Willow. From now on, you must take good care of Maple, your little sister. As long as Maple is happy, your mom will be happy."

Later on, the mean kids in the neighborhood shove Maple Thompson, my new little sister, into a pile of sand. I rush over to protect her immediately.

Once we get home, I mimic my parents by drawing a bath so that I can clean Maple up.

That's when Mom suddenly barge into the bathroom and slap me heavily across the face.

"You've already enjoyed our love for the past five years! Why are you still greedy for more? I can't believe you're trying to drown Maple right now!"

Mom's eyes have gone bloodshot. She drags me by the hair and stuffs me into the washing machine.

"Only a washing machine is capable of cleanse that filth out of your soul! You can only scramble out of the washing machine and apologize to Maple once you've decided to quit bullying your sister!"

In the living room, Dad lowers his voice. "Keep your voice down when you're chewing Willow out. Maple is about to fall asleep. Don't go around waking her up now."

Mom doesn't want to look at me anymore. Instead, she slams the lid onto the washing machine forcefully. I can't get out of the machine.

What she doesn't know is that the washing machine will activate.

"The 212-degree-Fahrenheit wash cycle has been activated."

Scalding hot water is soon dumped onto my body. It hurts so much that I gradually lose my consciousness.

Will Mom love me again once I'm squeaky clean after the wash cycle?

Mom always said that to ensure every piece of clothing I wore was completely sterile, the washing machine at home had only one setting—212-degree-Fahrenheit high-temperature wash.

The moment the scalding water from the inlet hit my skin, blisters erupted all over. Even the slightest touch sent a surge of pain through me, so intense it made me want to curl up and roll on the floor.

During the brief pause between water cycles, I hammered desperately on the washing machine lid. "Mom, help! I'm in here! I'm in so much pain!"

My feet, submerged in the piping water, had long scalded a layer of skin away.

Mom's low, furious growls echoed from the living room. "Stop making noise! Gosh, you're loud! I swear I'll deal with you if you wake Maple up from her nap!"

My pleas for help became stuck in my throat. Suddenly, I recalled the time I accidentally fell down the stairs while trying to deliver Mom's phone to her, which she had carelessly left at home.

At that time, she scolded, "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? I was just about to take Maple out to the playground, and you're here, pretending to fall and garner pity? You'd love it if someone came over and lectured me about being partial, right?"

She towered over me, eyes cold. "If you pull another trick like this, I'll send you straight to Grandma and Grandpa, and you'll never return."

My jolting body brought me back to reality. I didn't want to leave Mom and Dad.

The hot water began pouring in again. I curled into a ball, desperately covering my mouth despite wanting to shout at the top of my lungs for help. Instead, I ended up chewing up my palm and not daring to make a sound.

My scalded hair now swam across the washing machine. Sorry, Mom. I dirtied your washing machine.

My consciousness began to blur, yet in that moment, I still couldn't understand why Mom repeatedly got upset with me, even though I had tried my very best.

Ever since my sister, Maple Thompson, reunited with us, I had given her all my favorite toys. I used to be possessive of them, but considering she couldn't speak, I found her rather pitiful and felt a need to take care of her.

Besides, Dad had said that as long as I treated her well, Mom would be happy. But… why wouldn't she hug me or smile at me anymore? Every time I went up to her, she would always push me aside with a gloomy face.

Had I not done enough?

The main door opened. Dad had returned. I rushed over excitedly, intending to hug him as I always did, but this time, I went past his body and hit the wall behind him.

I froze. I looked down and realized my body had turned… transparent. Was I dead?

"Is Willow napping in her room?" Dad asked. "Why didn't she welcome me home today?"

He didn't notice I was inside the washing machine. By then, it had long stopped running because my crushed legs had been caught in the drainage outlet, twisted in the mechanism.

Mom tiptoed out of Maple's room, her brows tightly furrowed.

"Keep your voice down," she said softly. "Maple's sleeping. And I don't know what that damn brat is up to. I only punished her a little today, and she refused to come out for lunch. Seems like I've been too lenient with her all along."

Dad gently patted her back, trying to calm her down, though his expression showed disagreement.

"Honestly, I think you've been projecting too much onto Willow. Didn't we already get to the bottom of things? Maple did get lost on her own back then. It had nothing to do with Willow."

Mom fell silent briefly, then pushed his hand away. "I know that. But every time I think about how much suffering Maple went through out there, while Willow was living comfortably and well-fed at home, I just feel like I'd wronged her."

Dad let out a long sigh. I froze in place, my hands and feet turning icy cold. Did Maple's disappearance have something to do with me?

No wonder after she came back, Mom never held me again or said I was her precious baby anymore. Once, when she accidentally smiled at me, she immediately shoved me to the ground.

"Monster," she seethed. "Who told you to come over? Get back to your room!"

I used to think that if I treated Maple well, Mom would eventually go back to how she was before and like me again. Now, I realized that no matter what I did, Mom had already stopped loving me a long time ago.