Chapter 4

Late that night, the whole family finally settled down. I sat on the floor in my bedroom, carefully spreading out the pages of the loose-leaf binder.

A few words were still legible, while others had completely vanished. I pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and rewrote the names of Mom's current medications and the times she needed to take them.

Once I was done, I taped it to the most conspicuous spot on the medicine cabinet. I had no idea why I was still doing any of this. Perhaps I'd spent such a long time taking care of Mom that it had become a habit etched into my bones.

…

At 1:00 am, I heard footsteps outside my bedroom.

Mom pushed the door open and walked in. She tossed the household separation agreement in front of me. "Sign it."

I looked up at her. "Didn't you take my ID?"

"I'll give it back to you tomorrow after you sign the agreement."

"Can I go to the hospital?"

"Are you addicted to playing the victim now?" she jeered.

"I'm not putting on an act. I genuinely want to die right now."

The room went dead silent for a few seconds.

Mom wasn't frightened, nor did she call Dad. She simply stared at me before chuckling. "Here we go again. Every time I ask you to move out, you threaten me with suicide. I told you, I'm not falling for your tricks again!"

I balled my hands into fists. "I'm not threatening you. Every day, I wonder if you'd be happier if I didn't exist."

Mom leaned down and got right in my face. "In that case, why don't you actually do something useful for once?"

My breath instantly hitched.

"Don't just move out. I want you gone for good. Dead or alive, I don't ever want to hear your name again. Since you claim you want what's best for me, prove it!"

Dad had appeared at the threshold at some point. He had obviously overheard our conversation.

I looked at him, calling for help one last time. "I can't control myself, Dad. Can you take me to the hospital right now? I'm afraid I'm really going to die!"

He took a step forward. Mom immediately clutched her chest and began gasping for air. "Douglas Langston, she's doing it again; she just has to bring this up in the middle of the night. Does she want me to have another episode?"

Dad stopped dead in his tracks. Grandpa and Grandma were also jolted awake and hurried over.

Grandma hugged Mom and yelled at me, "Can't you just give it a rest for one night? Why are you dead set on making her life miserable?"

I looked at Dad. "I'm not trying to provoke her. I'm begging you to save me!"

Dad massaged his temples, exhausted. "Look at what you've done to your mom, Danica. Don't spew such nonsense again."

The last thing I had left inside me snapped. I lowered my head and signed my name on the household separation agreement.

Then, I added a line in the remarks section. "I voluntarily agree to leave forever and will never bother Evelyn Sanders again."

Mom snatched the agreement from me and repeatedly checked my signature. At long last, she beamed. "If you'd just been this sensible from day one, none of this would've happened."

Grandma breathed a sigh of relief as well. "That's enough, Evelyn. Don't waste your breath on her. From tomorrow on, let's just focus on living a good life together as a family."

A family. As it turned out, I had never been included in that phrase for 18 years.

The three of them surrounded Mom and led her out.

Dad walked at the very end. He turned around and glanced at me, as if he had something to tell me.

Yet, Mom called out to him from the hallway. He immediately closed my bedroom door.

I didn't get a wink of sleep that night.

Before daybreak, I placed the 18 birthday cards back into the tin box.

I wiped every single card clean, removing the dirt from where Mom had trampled them. Then, I retrieved my ID card from Dad's study and left the house.

No one realized I was gone.

…

I went to the children's amusement park that had been out of business for years.

When I was five, Dad had promised to take me on the carousel. However, right before leaving the house, Mom suddenly had an episode.

Wailing, she accused me of stealing her husband from her. In the end, she tore our tickets to pieces.

The faded carousel was still in the same spot. I mounted a white horse and placed the 18 birthday cards beside me.

I dialed Dad's number, but no one answered.

Mom had just sent a picture of the whole family gathered around the breakfast table in the family group chat. Dad, Grandpa, and Grandma were gathered around her in the picture.

Her caption read. "The root cause of my illness is gone. Today marks the first day of my new life!"

Every single person in the chat congratulated her.

I waited ten minutes.

Dad didn't call back.

I sent him one last message. "I'll listen to Mom, Dad. I'll never show up in your lives again."

The message was marked as read.

Yet, he only replied with three words. "Cut it out."

I powered off my phone.

Before my consciousness slipped away, I didn't think of Mom. I only thought of the five-year-old girl who had never gotten to ride the carousel.

Cupping the shredded ticket in her little hands, she quietly reassured herself. "It's okay. Once Mom gets better, Dad will definitely take me to the amusement park again!"

Yet, she waited all the way until she turned 18, and that moment never came.

…

When I opened my eyes again, I was standing beside the carousel. My body remained still on the back of the white horse, clutching the last birthday card in my hand. It hit me that I was truly dead.

After the park attendant called the cops, Dad was the first person the officers contacted.

When his phone rang, they were all at a restaurant, celebrating Mom's new life.

Mom smiled as she told them that when she woke up that morning, even the air felt fresher than it had before.

Dad picked up the phone. There was a brief silence on the other end before a solemn voice asked, "Am I speaking with Danica Langston's father? Your daughter has been found at the children's amusement park on the west side of the city."

Dad tightened his grip on his phone. "What's happened to her?"

I stood beside him, watching the smile slowly disappear from his face.

The voice on the other end said, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but she's passed away."