Shrimp Dumplings and Silence

I was severely allergic to shrimp. Even touching the broth could make it hard for me to breathe.

They used to treat me like a fragile little princess no one could touch.

So there was never seafood at home, and even relatives were reminded before each family gathering.

Then my little sister was born, and everything changed.

Shrimp became her favorite food. She kept asking Mom to make it for her.

That was the first time Mom snapped at me. "Can't you just stay away from it? Do you really have to make your sister unhappy?"

Dad only shut the kitchen door and handed me a mask.

But on the day of Dad's promotion dinner, I accidentally ate shrimp hidden inside a puff pastry.

My throat tightened. I clutched my neck and ran to Mom for help, my face turning purple.

But Mom flung my hand away, her voice cold as ice. "Today is an important day for your father. What stunt are you trying to pull now?

"Do you think everyone has to revolve around you? Go back to your room!"

She shoved me into my bedroom, slammed the door, and locked it.

I did not even have the strength to call for help.

All I could hear was the sound of people outside clinking glasses and offering congratulations, while my fingernails scraped bloody marks into the door.

Dad's promotion dinner filled our home with guests.

The burning in my throat grew stronger and stronger, as if countless needles were stabbing me from the inside.

I clutched my neck and stumbled toward Mom, forcing out a hoarse, broken sound. "Mom... help..."

Just now, Aunt Wendy had given me a pretty bunny-shaped puff pastry. I had eaten it without thinking.

But it was filled with shrimp.

Mom was holding a wineglass, smiling as she toasted Dad's supervisor.

When she saw me in pain, the smile on her face vanished. In its place was pure disgust.

She grabbed me and dragged me aside, lowering her voice as she snapped, "Annie Reed, what are you trying to do now?"

"Do you know what day this is? Whether your father can secure this promotion depends on tonight!"

I opened my mouth, but I could not say a single word. Breathing became harder and harder. The room began to spin.

I shook my head desperately, pointing at my throat as tears streamed down from my body's reflexive panic.

But Mom's eyes only grew colder. "This again? Every time something important happens at home, you have an episode. You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

"You just can't stand seeing your father succeed. You can't stand seeing this family do well."

Her words stabbed into my heart like knives, more painful than the suffocation in my throat.

She did not look at my face, already turning purple from lack of air. Instead, she shoved me toward my bedroom.

"Get inside! Stop embarrassing us!"

I staggered from the force of her push and slammed into the doorframe.

She forced me into the room, and I heard the clear click of the lock from outside.

"Stay in there and think about what you've done. You can come out when you understand."

With a bang, the door shut.

The world instantly went quiet. All that remained was my heavy, weakening breath.

I threw myself against the door, using every bit of strength I had to pound on it and scream, but even I could barely hear the sound I made.

Outside, the laughter, the clinking of glasses, and Director Harris's hearty voice all carried clearly through the door.

Each sound was like a slap across my face.

I slid to the floor. My body began to convulse. My nails clawed at the wooden door, leaving bloody streaks behind.

In the last blurry moment before my consciousness faded, I thought I heard my little sister, Lily, ask, "Mommy, where did Annie go?"

Mom's gentle voice came through the door. "Your sister doesn't feel well. She's resting. Lily, how about some cake?"

So in Mom's heart, my so-called "not feeling well" was just a way to get attention.

My life was not worth more than Dad's career.

It was not even worth more than keeping my sister happy.

The strength drained from my body little by little. I curled up on the cold floor like an abandoned puppy.

And finally, the world went completely dark.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw my small body lying on the cold floor.

My cheeks were blue and purple. My lips were black. My eyes were still open in terror, unwilling to close even in death.

So I was already dead.

I had become a wandering ghost floating in the air.