My Mother's Blind Faith in a Lie Collar Broke Me

Daniel added, "Irene is always lying. She's even lying in her sleep!"

Mom patted Daniel's head, her voice turning gentle. "Our Danny's such a good boy. Leave her be. She can lie there all she wants. Let's see if she can stay like that forever."

Dad looked in from the doorway. "Should we carry her to her bed? It's winter. She'll catch a cold."

Mom cut him off instantly. "Why should we? Kids these days are just spoiled. Even the experts say so. This kind of behavior needs to be corrected with cold treatment. She has to realize her mistake on her own."

She pointed at the red light on my collar. "See this? It's still red. That means she's still acting out on the inside. She hasn't reflected at all. That's enough. Let's head to bed. We still have to visit my parents tomorrow."

She turned to leave, pulling the door shut behind her and locking it.

Floating beside my body, I stared at the glaring red light in the darkness. The chill in my heart felt colder than death itself.

If Mom had just taken one step closer and touched my hand, she would have realized that I had already gone completely cold. But she didn't.

She trusted only that emotionless device, not the daughter she carried for ten months.

In the middle of the night, a rat crawled out from the empty cabinet.

I used to be terrified of rats. I would scream every time I saw one. But now, I could only float around the ceiling, watching it crawl all over my body. "Go away…"

I weakly tried to shoo it away, but my voice failed me.

As the rat bit into my toe, dark purple blood oozed out. Still, I couldn't feel pain anymore.

How nice. Finally, there was no more pain.

Looking at my pitiful body below, I muttered, "Don't be scared. You can't feel anything anymore. It'll be over soon."

The next morning, sunlight fell on my body, though it brought no warmth.

From the kitchen came the clinking of pots and pans. Mom was making breakfast.

The smell of eggs slipped through the crack of the door. That used to be my favorite smell.

However, I was only ever allowed boiled vegetables before because Mom said liars didn't deserve anything else.

That day, she deliberately banged the spatula on the pan loudly. It was obvious that she was trying to tempt me, trying to make me come out and admit fault.

If it were before, I might really have admitted to things I didn't do just for an egg. But now, I didn't need to eat anymore.

"Irene still hasn't come out yet?" Dad asked. He was sitting at the table reading the newspaper.

Mom slammed a plate down. "No. She's as stubborn as a mule. This is all because we've spoiled her. If she doesn't want to eat, then so be it."

Daniel sipped his milk, his eyes rolling with mischief. He then ran over to my door and deliberately sniffed loudly, exclaiming exaggeratedly, "Mom, Irene's room smells so bad! Did she poop and pee in there?"

I floated by the door, looking at Daniel with a bitter smile. With the heating on full blast, I had already started to rot after just one night.

Mom would hate me even more now.

Mom walked over with a frown. She banged on my door, yelling, "Irene, are you a pig? The toilet's just right there! Do you not have legs? How could you poop in your room?

"You're seriously beyond help! Did you seriously have to do something so embarrassing just to spite me?"

I remembered that when I was little, I once had acute gastroenteritis and couldn't make it to the bathroom in time, so I ended up soiling my pants.

Mom didn't help me clean up. Rather, she made me stand in the yard and told the neighbors that I was as dirty as a pig.

Now, she thought I was dirty again.

Mom waved her hand in disgust like she was shooing a fly. "Leave her! Let her stay in that stench and choke on it!"

Dad put down his newspaper, frowning. "The smell is seriously strong. I'll go check. Maybe there's a dead rat or something."

He got up and walked toward my door, making my heart lurch in an instant.

"Dad, open the door quickly! Please look at me! I'm just beyond the door!"

If he just turned the handle, he would see that I couldn't move anymore, and he would see how dark my face had become.