Tiny Body, Big Revenge: The Stepmother Gets Schooled

After I turn five years of age and have my very own phone, I start receiving strange messages every single day. For some reason, the sender keeps referring to me as their mom.

At 3:00 am, they send me another message.

"Mom, I saw you in my dreams again. The rain is seeping into the attic. My stepmom told me to use a rag to soak up all the water, but the rag is too small. Even though I tried to wipe it up all night, it still wouldn't dry. Mom, I'm so cold and hungry. I miss you so much…"

I tilt my head, looking at the rain pouring outside the window. I then earnestly reply, "Don't be scared, sweetheart. Where are you right now? I will bring you something yummy!"

After I received my own phone at five years old, I started receiving strange messages every day. The sender of those messages—a young lady—kept calling me "Mom".

At 3:00 am, they sent another one. "Mom, I dreamed of you again. The attic is leaking, so my stepmom told me to soak up the water with a rag. Only, the rag's too small. I wiped all night and still couldn't dry everything. I'm hungry and cold, Mom. I miss you so much…"

Tilting my head, I gazed at the rain pouring outside before earnestly replying, "Don't be scared, sweetheart. Where are you right now? I will bring you something tasty!"

"Who are you?" the other person replied quickly.

I blinked in confusion. Pouting, I asked, "Weren't you the one who called me Mom?"

Why was this person now asking who I was?

To show that I was a good mother, I even added a cute emoticon at the end of my text.

But after waiting a long time without receiving a single reply from my daughter, I eventually drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, rubbing my sleepy eyes, I instinctively reached for my phone.

On the screen was a new message from my daughter. "You're not my mom. She died five years ago."

Looking down at my chubby belly, I puffed up with indignation and placed my hands on my hips. "How rude! I'm only five years old and very much alive!"

A moment later, realization struck me. Her mom must have disappeared five years ago.

Mom told me that people reincarnated once they were gone. Since I so happened to be five years old this year, maybe I really was her mom.

Besides, I was the best mom among all the other kids whenever we played pretend at school.

I was just about to tell my daughter this when she sent me another message.

"I don't know who you are, but thank you. This was my mom's phone number when she was still alive. Today is my 18th birthday. If it's okay with you, could you wish me a happy birthday?"

As I slipped into my bunny slippers, I used the voice-to-text function to text her.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart. Be happy and eat lots of yummy candy every day!"

Then, it occurred to me all at once. On my birthday, I would always receive presents from Mom and Dad. Shouldn't my daughter receive a big birthday gift too?

With that thought in mind, I texted her again. "What would you like as a birthday present? I like cute dolls and chocolates. What about you?"

There was a long pause before she replied, "Can you send me some painkillers?"

I didn't know what painkillers were, but I knew that people only took something meant for pain when they were sick.

I quickly asked, "Sweetheart, are you sick?"

"The truth is, my stepmom locked me in the attic last night…" As if afraid I might take it the wrong way, she quickly explained, "She accused me of stealing money, locked me up, and beat me. I'm in a lot of pain right now. I just want some painkillers."

Her stepmom sounded really mean—much like the evil queen from that fairy tale!

I angrily texted back, "Your stepmom is evil! She's like a monster! Don't worry, sweetheart. My dad's a Leo, which basically makes him a lion. I'll get him to pounce on her and avenge you!"

Then, I asked her for her address, hurried downstairs, and approached Janet Woodard, our housekeeper.

"Ms. Woodard, I need a delivery guy!"

I pulled out the medicine storage box from the cabinet, got on the floor, and rummaged through it.