Perempuan Bermahar Lima Miliar

I wiped the blood off my mouth and slipped one of the pellets between my lips.

I swallowed it down with spit.

Mama was already across the room, holding Charlotte, soothing her while Charlotte laughed into her shoulder. Mama didn't notice the porcelain shard digging into my palm.

I kept my head down and slid the little pill bottle into the belly of my stuffed bunny.

Mrs. Hayes, the housekeeper, looked at my hand and sighed.

"Why can't you behave? Just give your mother a little peace."

"Mrs. Ashford told me this bracelet thing is recommended by experts. It's supposed to help you. It'll teach you not to lie. She bought it for you, you understand? She's trying to help."

I nodded.

I know Mama is trying to help.

But when I tell the truth, it goes red anyway.

Maybe I'm so slow I can't even tell the truth right.

She walked me upstairs and shoved a clean dress over my head. Then, the way she always did, she sank her nails into the soft part of my arm and twisted.

"You disgusting little stray. How is a slow thing like you supposed to be anyone's daughter? Now I have to wait on you. You're nothing but baggage."

Coming back down the staircase, my stomach turned over. A wave of pain rolled through me. I bit down on my lip so I wouldn't cry.

I can't make Mommy worry. I can't be more trouble than I already am.

Then the room tilted. My foot missed the next step, and I tumbled. My head cracked against the floor.

The porcelain shard ground deeper into my palm, opening a long red line.

"Clumsy. Can't even walk across a room."

Mama hauled me up by my arm and dumped me on the couch.

Charlotte was sitting at her side in a pretty dress, smug, stroking the gold charm bracelet Mama had given her. She had told me only Mama's favorite daughter got jewelry like that.

I looked down at the black band on my wrist and told myself that Mama had given me something too. She had picked it out for me, because she cared. Mama must love me.

But my chest hurt anyway, like there was something heavy sitting on it, and I couldn't get a full breath.

Later, Charlotte pushed me into the pool again. My nose and mouth filled with water. I came up coughing.

I was so cold all over that the bruises stopped hurting.

I sank down against the wall of the pool. I just sat there for a long time. I couldn't make myself stand up.

Mama's eyes cut over to me. Her voice came down on top of me, irritated.

"Why can't you learn anything from your sister? You're not smart, fine, but on top of that you've learned to lie? What did I do to deserve a child like you?"

A new spasm of pain hit my stomach. I doubled over and instinctively flinched away from her hand.

She froze with her hand still in the air. Her brows pulled together.

"It's not—"

She cut me off. "So now you're slow and you talk back?"

My chest squeezed tight. I gripped my soaked dress and pointed behind me, at Charlotte, who was hiding behind her shoulder.

"Lying again. Let me guess, you're going to blame your sister?"

I shook my head fast. My voice came out shaky.

A cold wind blew in from the open doors and I shivered. The cramping in my stomach hit again.

"I'm not lying. Charlotte pushed."

The bracelet flashed red.

Beep.

Mama's eyes traveled down from my face to the red light on my wrist.

The look on her face was worse than anger; it was disappointment. My throat closed up. Was I really a bad kid? Was I really lying? How was this happening?

"Do you understand what the bracelet is telling you right now?"

"Mommy, I'm not lying. I swear."

Beep beep beep. The faster I tried to explain, the faster the red came.

"Enough."

Her face went dark. The next thing I felt was the back of a hairbrush coming down across my palm.

Once. Then again. And again.

The cuts on my hand were already half-scabbed. Every time the hairbrush hit, the sharp sting pulled all the way down through my chest.

The cramping in my belly was twisting tighter and tighter. I was sweating cold.

She caught the look on my face. "Don't put on an act. A few smacks and you can't take it?"

Tears rolled down. My voice came out thin, breath catching.

"Mommy, I'm sorry, I—"

She wiped her hand on a towel and left me there, shaking, palm burning, sobbing quietly to myself.

The room was empty.

I stared at the red light still glowing on my wrist.

I started to wonder if I had remembered it wrong. Maybe Charlotte hadn't pushed me. Maybe I had just fallen in on my own.

Mommy, is the machine right?

So I am lying, then?

I rolled on the floor, curled up around the pain, and my hand bumped against a bottle. It was Mama's prescription bottle, the one she took for her headaches.

If I fell asleep, maybe it wouldn't hurt anymore.

"What are you doing? Taking pills to play sick?"

Mama snatched the bottle out of my hand. I lost my balance, and my back slammed into the corner of the table.

Glass shattered everywhere.

A pot of hot water tipped, and scalding water poured over my arm.

I screamed. I yanked my sleeve up.

My arm was bruised everywhere, purple and red, swelling.

Mama's eyes narrowed for a second, then her face smoothed out again.

"Why are you so pale? You'd rather play with water than mind your own business. Mrs. Hayes, put some ointment on her."

I stayed on the floor. Every breath made my whole body hurt.

"Stop it. It's just a burn. Take the ointment and you'll be fine."

When I didn't move, she let out a slow breath.

"Don't lie there feeling sorry for yourself. Making this face won't change the fact that you are a bad kid. If I were soft on you, I'd spoil you, and then who's going to put up with you when I'm too old to take care of you?"

She grabbed my arm and pulled, hard. Cold sweat ran down my back.

The room blurred.

"I'm not pretending."

She didn't believe me. She let go of my arm in disgust and turned to get the hairbrush.

"She's bleeding."