Chapter 3

On the morning of September 23rd, Dad called me by my full name, which was quite rare. He was sitting in the study with a few sheets of paper spread out on the desk before him. They looked like bank statements.

"Why did you only wire 600 dollars this month?" he asked.

I had wired 1,600 dollars to the family last month. I had to pay for Annie's camera that month. After paying off my credit card bills, I only had about 600 dollars left.

"I spent a bit too much this month," I said.

"Why did you spend so much?" Dad asked with a frown, drumming his fingers on the table. "You're staying and eating at home. What kind of big purchases could you have made by yourself?"

Although I ate and stayed at home, I had to wire 1,600 dollars to the family every month. Not only that, but I was also constantly paying for Annie's purchases. It was nearly impossible for me to save any money.

However, I had never once calculated these expenses with them because my money was a shared resource in our family, while Annie's money was her personal asset.

"I'll make it up next month," I said.

"Annie is signing up for a photography course next month. The fees aren't cheap. Your mother wants you to help her pay for some of it."

Every time they asked me to help pay Annie's expenses, the amount they asked for would always leave a big hole in my bank account.

"How much?" I asked.

"1,000 dollars. Annie will be paying half."

1,000 dollars.

I had already paid 2,000 dollars for Annie's camera. Now, I had to pay another 1,000 dollars for her photography course. Her expenses totaled 4,000 dollars, and I had paid 3,000 dollars of it out of my own pocket.

Annie's monthly salary was even higher than mine. Mom and Dad knew that.

"Annie's salary is higher than mine, Dad," I said.

Dad removed his glasses and shot a cold look at me. "Annie has to spend a lot, while you don't really need to spend much. Why are you being so petty when the two of you are sisters?"

I didn't buy new clothes and skincare products. I also don't travel. As a result, all of my savings were used to pay for someone else's expenses.

"Fine," I said before taking my leave.

I heard Dad pick up his phone and dial a number just as I reached the door. "Anna said that she'll help you pay the fees for the photography course, Annie. You can just ask her for the money."

Annie's voice echoed from the receiver. She sounded like she was smiling when she said, "I already told you that Anna's really easy to convince."

In other words, I was the easiest to bully.

…

That afternoon, I dropped by the grocery store to buy a few travel-sized hygiene products. I paused for a moment when I passed by the snack aisle. I picked up a bag of my favorite gummies, hesitated for two seconds, before placing it in my shopping basket.

I had been alive for 23 years, but it was my first time buying something that I wanted to eat at the grocery store.

I found Annie and Mom sitting on the couch as they chose Annie's classes for her photography course when I returned home.

"You can study whatever you want. No need to worry about the money."

Mom wasn't looking at me when she told Annie not to worry about the money, but the money was going to come from my bank account.

Mom's and Annie's voices echoed around the living room, sounding as intimate as a pair of twins.

I sat at the dining table that hadn't been tidied up and finished the bag of gummies by myself. The gummies were sweet, but my tears were salty.

…

Everyone had retired to their rooms by 10:00 pm.

I locked my bedroom door and pulled out my 20-inch luggage bag from the deepest part of my closet, placing my identification documents, bank cards, and two sets of clothes inside. I was even holding my breath when I zipped the bag closed as quietly as I could.

Annie's room was next door. Light spilled out from the gap under the door. She was probably still editing her photos.

My phone vibrated. She had sent me a message.

"When are you going to wire the photography course's money to me, Anna? I need to pay the deposit by the tenth."

The tenth. I would already be in Northveil by then.

"I'll let you know later," I replied.

I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling. My eight-year-old self had lain on this same bed 15 years ago and cried herself to sleep.

Annie had snuck into my room once that night and placed a piece of candy next to my pillow. I thought that she had felt sorry for me when I woke up the next morning and noticed the candy. Perhaps it was the one and only time that 12-year-old Annie had felt that she had done something wrong.

15 years had passed since that night. Unfortunately, the candy had expired long ago.