Chapter 3

That afternoon, Dad snuck into my room. He stuffed a debit card into my hand. "There's 50,000 dollars in here. Stay somewhere else for now. Once your mom's condition stabilizes, I'll take you to the hospital." He lowered his voice, as if he was afraid someone might hear him.

I looked at the card and suddenly remembered my childhood. Every time Mom beat me, he would secretly slip me some money.

At times, it was 50 dollars. Other times, it was 100 dollars. The most he had ever given me was 500 dollars.

He always told me to buy something I liked, as if money could hug me in his place and apologize to me on his behalf.

"Dad, will you really come after me?"

He hesitated for a moment. "I will."

"When?"

"Once your mom gets a little better."

I had heard those words for 18 years.

Once Mom got a little better, Dad would take me to the amusement park.

Once Mom got a little better, we would take a family portrait.

Once Mom got a little better, she would slowly come to love me.

However, she never got better, and I never got what I had been waiting for.

Still, I accepted the card and started packing my belongings.

I wanted to live.

Even without my family, I wanted to go to the hospital. I wanted to go to college. I wanted to see what life was actually like for normal 18-year-olds.

However, the moment I wheeled my suitcase into the living room, Mom came home. The first thing she saw was the debit card in my hand. "Where did you get that?"

Dad's expression changed in an instant. "It's a college enrollment bonus the company gave Danica."

Mom snatched it away and confronted him. "What kind of company would hand 50,000 dollars to someone who hasn't even started working there? Why are you giving her money behind my back? Are you trying to support her without my knowledge?"

Dad wanted to explain himself, but she snapped the debit card in half. "No wonder she refused to sign the agreement. Turns out, you two had everything planned from the very beginning. You're going to leave me at home while you and your daughter go off to enjoy the good life!"

Mom lunged at my suitcase and dumped all my clothes out. I had three T-shirts, two pairs of faded jeans, and my high school uniform.

Mom rummaged through my belongings for a while, but she couldn't find anything valuable enough to match what she'd had in mind. Her eyes landed on a thick loose-leaf binder.

I immediately stepped forward to grab it. "Don't touch that!"

That only made her tighten her grip on it. "What is it this time? Another piece of evidence against me?"

The binder was flipped open, revealing page after page of her medical records.

When Mom suffered from insomnia, she would repeatedly check the locks on the doors.

If she missed her medication for two days in a row, she must not be allowed near sharp objects.

When she had an emotional breakdown, we shouldn't argue with her. We should dim the lights and play the piano music she liked.

I remembered all her episodes and all the changes in her medication over the last few years like it was yesterday.

Mom flipped through a few pages before hurling the binder at my face. "Are you spying on me?"

"No."

"Don't you dare lie to me!" She grabbed the binder and tossed it straight into the ornamental fish tank in the living room.

The ink hastily bled into the water. Like a madwoman, I rushed over and fished the binder out.

The pages were completely soaked through. Much of my handwriting had blurred into indistinct blue smudges.

"Why did you throw it away?" For the first time in 18 years, I yelled at her. "Who reminded you to take your medication every time you had an episode? Who stayed outside the bathroom when you locked yourself in there in the middle of the night?

"Dad doesn't even know what medication you take, and Grandpa and Grandma only ever indulge you. All these years, I'm the one who's genuinely wanted you to get better!"

The living room fell dead silent.

Mom stared long and hard at me. For a second, I thought she would be moved.

Yet, she abruptly raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face. "Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Why do you think I fell ill in the first place? It's because I gave birth to you! Even if you took care of me for the rest of your life, you still wouldn't be able to repay the life you owe me!"

A loud ringing filled my ears, but she continued, "Don't act like you're some saint just because you've fed me my medication a few times. If you genuinely wanted me to get better, you wouldn't show your face in front of me every day.

"Every year, on your birthday, I'm reminded of how much I suffered just to give birth to you. The happier you are, the more successful you become, and the brighter your future looks, the more you remind me that you ruined my entire life!"

Dad finally broke his silence. "That's enough, Evelyn!"

Mom whipped her head around. "What, does your heart ache for her? In that case, get the hell out with her! The second you two step out that door, I'll jump out the window!"

Grandma immediately snatched my suitcase away. She dug my ID out of my pocket. "Let's wait until Evelyn calms down first. Who knows what kind of trouble you'll get yourself into after running off with all this stuff?"

I watched as she locked my ID and the broken pieces of the bank card in a cabinet.

The front door was double-locked. My suitcase was confiscated. My phone was smashed.

All of them wanted me to leave, yet they made sure I had no way to actually get out.

Mom leaned against Dad's chest, looking all triumphant again. "What makes you think you're entitled to an easy life, Danica?" she asked, looking me in the eye.