Mom, I'm Not a Bad Kid

I was born a chronic liar. At least, that was the label my mother, Lydia, had given me. Lydia believed in science-based parenting. From the day my twin sister Jessica and I were born, she made us wear honesty bracelets. Whenever we lied, the bracelet would flash red, and Lydia would press a remote to send an electric shock through it as punishment. Jessica's bracelet was always green. Even when she cut up Lydia's dress and claimed the cat had done it, her bracelet only glowed a gentle green. But me? Even if I only said, "I'm hungry," my bracelet would instantly flash red. Then came the unbearable electric shock. At first, I tried to defend myself. But Lydia always said, "Machines don't lie. Pain is what makes you a better person. Mommy's doing this for your own good." After thousands upon thousands of shocks, I started to believe I really had been born a bad kid. On Christmas Eve, Lydia was getting ready to take Jessica to the mall. Suddenly, a violent pain tore through my stomach. I curled up on the floor and looked at them desperately. "Lydia, my stomach hurts so bad. Please help me." But my bracelet started flashing red like crazy. Lydia looked down at me, my entire body drenched in cold sweat from the pain. Then she turned the current all the way up. "You're pretending to be sick just because you want to come with us?" She turned around, took Jessica with her, and slammed the door behind them. I couldn't help thinking Lydia had to be right. The bracelet was red, so I couldn't really be in pain. I had to be lying again. I'm sorry, Lydia. In my next life, I'll learn how to be an honest child. ... "It hurts..." My whole body spasmed from the pain, my fingernails scraping white streaks into the floor. Then the doorknob turned. A spark of hope lit inside me. Lydia was back. She was a doctor. She must have realized how much pain I was in and come back to save me. "You're still not done? Jessica's getting impatient." "Mom..." I called out weakly and stretched one hand toward the doorway. "It really hurts. It feels like my intestines are ripping apart." She glanced at the red light flashing wildly on my wrist. Lydia crouched down, grabbed my chin, and snapped angrily, "Evelyn, how long are you going to keep this act up?" "You'll fake being sick this badly just to get my attention? You need to stay home and think about what you've done!" My father, Ethan, called from the doorway. "Lydia, hurry up. If Evelyn doesn't want to go, forget it. Should we at least leave her some food?" Lydia stood and brushed off her hands as if touching me had made them dirty. "She's got a whole stash of snacks in her bedroom cabinet. She bought them with the money she stole last time." "Lock the door. She can come out when her bracelet turns green." "But..." Ethan hesitated. "Listen to me! Look at Jessica. She's so honest that her bracelet is always green." "Evelyn's lying habit needs to be corrected! Would you rather she suffer a little now or get arrested someday?" But my cabinet was empty. Jessica had taken the money that time. Jessica had eaten the snacks too. All she'd done was stand there and say, "It wasn't me." Her bracelet stayed green, so Lydia believed her. When I said I hadn't taken the money either, my bracelet turned red. I watched Lydia turn away. Jessica poked her head through the gap in the door and made a face at me. "Bye, Evelyn! We're going out to have fun!" Her bracelet glowed such a beautiful, gentle green. The door slammed shut. Then came the click of the lock. The house fell silent. There was only me and the pain in my stomach. It hurt so much. But Lydia was right. Machines didn't lie. My bracelet was red, so I had to be lying. I wasn't in pain. I really wasn't. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to convince myself. I didn't know how much time passed. Eventually, it almost felt like it didn't hurt as much anymore. Using the last of my strength, I crawled toward my desk. I had to write my punishment essay. That was the rule. Every time the red light came on, I had to fill a thousand words with the sentence: *I'm a bad kid.* Once I finished, Lydia would forgive me, right? Then she'd take me to the hospital, wouldn't she? My hand trembled as I opened the wrinkled old journal. It was filled with all the punishment essays I'd written before. Back then, all I ever wrote was: *I'm sorry. I was wrong. I won't lie again.* But this time, I wanted to write something true. My vision grew blurrier and blurrier. Through my tears, I used the last of my strength to write: *Lydia, I really love you.* *It really hurts. Why won't you believe me?* *Lydia, please believe me just once.* The moment I finished the last word, the terrible pain in my stomach suddenly disappeared. In its place came a strange lightness I'd never felt before. My body became weightless. I floated upward. When I looked down, I saw myself slumped over the desk, one arm hanging limply in the air. I wasn't moving. The bracelet on my wrist was still flashing red like crazy. So... I was dead. And I still hadn't learned how to become an honest child. I'm sorry.

I woke to the sound of laughter. It was Ethan, Lydia, and Jessica. "Those Christmas decorations were beautiful tonight! Especially the one shaped like a smiley face. It was just as cute as our Jessica!" There was a tenderness in Lydia's voice I'd never heard before. I floated in midair as the front door opened. Now that I was a ghost, I still instinctively drifted toward them to welcome them home. I wanted to bring them their slippers, just like I always had. The need to please them had been carved into my bones. "Lydia." I opened my arms, wanting to hug the woman who had just come in from the cold. "It doesn't hurt anymore. I'll be good from now on. Please don't be mad." But my hands passed straight through her body like wind slipping through empty space. Lydia shivered and frowned. "Why is it so cold in here? Isn't the heat on?" I froze and stared at my transparent hands. Right. I was already dead. Dead people couldn't hug the living. "Go check on Evelyn," Ethan said casually. "She didn't come out for dinner either." So maybe they did love me. Just a tiny bit. I looked at Lydia expectantly. If she found out I was dead, would she be sad? Would she regret it? Lydia snorted, changed into her slippers, and walked toward my room. She shoved my bedroom door open. She didn't turn on the light. Using only the light from the living room, she saw "me" slumped over the desk. Motionless. Like I was asleep. "Oh, you're still lying there?" Lydia stood in the doorway, her voice dripping with mockery. "You think if you slump over the desk and act pathetic, I'll carry you to bed?" "Evelyn, you're seven years old, not three!" I floated beside my body and screamed. "Lydia! I'm not pretending to sleep! I'm dead! Look at me!" "Touch me! My body's cold!" But Lydia couldn't hear me. She only believed what she thought she could see. Jessica squeezed into the room too and raised her wrist proudly. "Evelyn's a bad kid! Look, mine is green and Evelyn's is still red!" "Evelyn keeps lying! She even lies in her sleep!" Lydia stroked Jessica's hair. "That's because our Jessica is a good girl. Don't worry about Evelyn. Let's go to your room and I'll read you a story." Ethan peered in from behind her. "Shouldn't we put her in bed? It's cold. She could get sick." Lydia cut him off. "Don't touch her! Kids have it too easy these days. That's why they're so dramatic." "The parenting expert said that when children behave like this, you have to give them the cold shoulder. She needs to realize what she did wrong on her own." "Look at that red light. It means she's still fighting us mentally. She hasn't reflected on anything." Lydia turned around and closed the door again. I floated beside my body, staring at that tiny red light in the darkness. The sadness inside me felt heavier than death itself. Lydia, if you'd taken one more step... If you'd just touched my hand... You would've known I was already dead. But you didn't. You trusted a cold machine more than the daughter you gave birth to. Late that night, a mouse crawled out of my empty cabinet. I'd always been terrified of mice. Whenever I saw one, I used to scream. But now, I could only float near the ceiling and watch it crawl freely over my body. "Go away..." I tried weakly to chase it off, but no sound came out. The mouse bit through one of my toes. A little dark, purplish blood seeped out. I couldn't feel it anymore. That was nice. Nothing hurt anymore. I looked down at that poor little body and whispered, "Don't be scared." "You can't feel pain anymore anyway." "It'll all be over soon."

The next morning, sunlight fell across my corpse. It didn't bring even a trace of warmth. I heard cooking from the kitchen. The smell of fried eggs drifted through the crack under my door. Normally, that was my favorite smell. But I was only allowed to eat boiled vegetables because Lydia said bad kids didn't deserve meat. Today, she deliberately banged the spatula against the pan. I knew what she was doing. She wanted the smell to tempt me. She thought eventually I'd get hungry enough to come out and admit I was wrong. Before, I probably would've confessed to things I'd never done just for one fried egg. But now, I didn't need food anymore. "Evelyn still hasn't come out?" Ethan asked from the breakfast table as he read the news. Lydia slammed a plate onto the table. "Then let her starve. She did something wrong, and now she has the nerve to be mad at us?" Jessica drank her milk. Then, as if she'd suddenly thought of something, she ran to my bedroom door and sniffed dramatically. "Mom! Evelyn's room stinks!" "Did she go to the bathroom in there?" I floated by the door and looked bitterly at Jessica. The room was warm. After one night, my body had already started to smell. Lydia was going to hate me even more. She frowned and walked over. "Evelyn!" Lydia pounded on the door. "Are you doing this on purpose? The bathroom is right next door, and you went in your room?" "Forget her!" Lydia waved her hand in disgust as if she were swatting away a fly. "If she likes the smell so much, let her sit in it until she chokes!" Ethan put down what he was reading and frowned. "The smell really is pretty strong. I'll check. Maybe there's a dead mouse in there." Ethan stood and walked toward my door. My heart leaped. Ethan! Open the door! Please look at me! I'm right behind it! All you have to do is turn the handle. You'll see I'm not moving. You'll see my face has already turned dark. I floated in front of Ethan, waving desperately, trying to make him notice me. His hand closed around the doorknob. Then a phone rang sharply. It was Ethan's boss. He answered, and his expression changed. "What? The servers crashed? Okay, okay. I'm coming right now!" He hung up and grabbed his coat. "Lydia, something's wrong at work. I have to go in. I might not be home for the next few days!" "But Evelyn—" Before Lydia could finish, Ethan was already gone. I froze too. I'd been that close. One second. If that phone call had come just one second later, someone would've found me. Maybe then I wouldn't have had to keep rotting in that room. That afternoon, Lydia took Jessica shopping. Only my corpse remained at home. That night, they came back loaded with expensive seafood and gifts. The second they stepped inside, the smell hit them even harder. Lydia covered her nose and gagged. "Evelyn! Are you trying to turn this house into a landfill?" She wouldn't even open the door to yell at me. It was as though one glance inside my room would dirty her eyes. She found a roll of heavy-duty duct tape, crouched down, and aggressively sealed the gap beneath my door. "If you like stink so much, you can smell it yourself! Don't make the rest of us suffer!" After pressing down the last strip of tape, Lydia dusted off her hands with satisfaction. "Finally. Some peace and quiet." Then she went to the kitchen to make dinner. I stared at the sealed door. The last tiny piece of hope inside me disappeared beneath those strips of tape. So in Lydia's heart... Whether I lived or died mattered less than a seafood dinner. She'd rather tape the door shut than look inside to see if I'd died. You win, Lydia. I'll never bother you again.