Three Years Later, They Finally Regretted It

A woman in a white coat came to the house. She introduced herself as Dr. Thompson, a psychologist.

"Hello, Emily."

I didn't speak.

Mom wrung her hands. "You have to give her a command, or she won't talk."

Dr. Thompson frowned. "Please tell me your name."

"Unit EVA."

Dr. Thompson's pen paused on her notepad. "And your real name?"

"Emily Walker. But that's my former name. Academy regulations require graduating students to use their unit numbers as their official designations."

The whole family's expressions darkened.

They went into the study and talked in words I couldn't understand:

"PTSD... depersonalization... long-term therapy..."

After that, things got strange at home. They started tiptoeing around me.

On Sophia's birthday, they made a difficult decision: to send Sophia away.

This would be Sophia's last birthday with us.

The living room was filled with balloons. A two-layer cake sat on the table.

Sophia walked over to me, still gentle and sweet. "Happy birthday, big sister."

My eyes blinked. Something loosened in my head.

It was my birthday too.

No one remembered.

Three years ago today, I'd been shoved into a car and taken to that academy.

Before I left, I had cried and asked Mom if I could at least eat my birthday cake first.

She said, "You can have it when you come back, after you've learned to be good."

I had learned to be good.

But I never got that cake.

Sophia suddenly smiled at me. "Big sister, the definition of 'normal' is pushing someone you don't like. Push me, like you did three years ago."

I looked at her face. Her hand rested on my shoulder.

Before I could push, she fell.

The living room door opened.

Jack stood there, holding a bowl of fruit. He shouted furiously, "Emily! What are you doing!"

The fruit bowl hit the floor and scattered.

Sophia sat on the ground, her eyes filling with tears. "Big sister, why did you push me?"

I didn't answer. She was faking it.

Mom rushed over, her face cycling through shock and anger in three seconds. "Why did you push Sophia!"

"She told me to."

"You're lying!" Sophia sobbed.

Jack knelt down and helped Sophia up, as gently as if she were made of porcelain. He looked at me with nothing but disappointment.

"You haven't changed at all. You acted so well for three years, but the second we turn around, you're the same as always. A leopard doesn't change its spots."

Mom's eyes reddened. "We were just saying we should be nicer to you. I was regretting sending you to that place. And this is how you repay us?"

She stepped closer and jabbed a finger into my chest. "Say something!"

"I have not received the 'speak' command."

Mom's face flushed red. Behind her, Sophia leaned against her, sniffling.

"Go kill yourself," Jack said suddenly.

The living room went silent for a second.

"What did you say?" Dad frowned.

Jack's voice was so loud the windows rattled. "I said go kill yourself! She follows every command, doesn't she? Then tell her to die! We'd finally have some peace!"

The moment he finished, Sophia collapsed.

Her body convulsed. Her eyes rolled back. White foam bubbled from her mouth.

"Sophia! Sophia!" Mom screamed.

Everyone crowded around her. No one looked at me.

"Command received: kill yourself."

No one heard.

I turned slowly and walked toward the balcony.