Chapter 4

Mom hurriedly tried to explain. "I bought the scale to take care of you. You've always been having issues with your stomach, so I just wanted to keep track of how much you ate every day."

I shook my head. "No. You bought it to punish me."

The color drained from Mom's face instantly.

The day after Charlotte was found, she cried in front of all our relatives, claiming that I hadn't been worried about her at all. "Evie kept saying she was hungry. Even when I was missing, she was sneaking buns behind everyone's backs."

The way our relatives looked at me changed completely, and Mom felt like she'd been publicly humiliated.

That very afternoon, she bought a kitchen scale and locked all the snacks, bread, and milk in the house inside a cabinet.

Then, she placed my plate on the scale. It showed 7.1 ounces.

Mom dumped the entire plate of food into the trash right in front of me. "If you take more than seven ounces, you won't be allowed to eat even a single bite."

I burst into tears. "But Mom, I'm hungry."

She pointed at Charlotte, who was sitting on the couch with a slice of cake, and screamed at me, "When Lottie went missing, all you cared about was being hungry! So I'll make sure you remember exactly what hunger feels like!"

Dad, who stood nearby, tried to intervene several times. But every time Charlotte started crying, he fell silent again.

Mom taped a punishment chart on the refrigerator. I was limited to only seven ounces per meal. If I took anything more than that, the entire meal would be thrown away.

If I sneaked a bite, I wouldn't get dinner the next day. And if I dared to complain of hunger again, I'd have to stand beside the dining table and watch Charlotte finish her meal.

On the first evening, Charlotte deliberately put a piece of spare rib onto my plate. The number on the scale jumped to 8.1 ounces.

Before I could even pick it out, she quickly shouted, "Mom! Evie's sneaking food again!"

Mom rushed over and swept everything, plate and all, into the trash. "You love food so much, don't you? Well, you won't be getting a single bite tonight!"

I stood by the dining table, my stomach cramping with hunger.

Sitting in my seat, Charlotte bit into a chicken drumstick and asked, "Evie, are you still hungry?"

I didn't dare answer. If I said yes, I knew I'd be punished again the next day.

The following day, I learned to weigh my food. If there was an extra piece of pasta, I'd pick it out. If there was one extra leaf in my salad, I'd put it back.

But while I wasn't looking, Charlotte sneakily poured a spoonful of soup onto my plate. The number went over seven ounces, and Mom threw my food away again.

By the third day, I was so hungry that I couldn't even keep water down.

That night, I fell out of bed and struck my forehead, leaving it bleeding.

Mom finally panicked. She held me in her arms and cried, telling me the punishment was over and that from then on, I could eat as much as I wanted.

The punishment chart was quickly torn down, and the lock on the snack cabinet was removed too. Everyone thought the whole thing was over.

But I didn't stop, because I'd finally understood that if I went hungry enough, Mom would hold me. If I got so thin that I fainted, Dad would leave Charlotte behind to come help me.

It dawned on me that the scale wasn't a punishment. It was my way back into Mom's and Dad's hearts.

Dr. Folston's eyes reddened. "So seven ounces wasn't the limit your stomach could handle. It was the limit your mother set for the punishment back then."

Mom collapsed onto the floor, shaking her head frantically. "I only punished you for three days! I just wanted to scare you, to make you understand that Charlotte was more important than food."

I lifted my head and looked at Mom, smiling sweetly. There wasn't a trace of hatred in my eyes, only gratitude. "It's okay, Mom. I like that kitchen scale. After you bought it, I finally won back your love. How could it have been a punishment? It was the best gift you ever gave me!"

Looking at my contented smile, everyone in the consultation room went quiet. The silence was so strange it felt almost eerie.

Then Mom's phone rang. It was Charlotte.

The moment the call connected, Charlotte's sobs came through the phone. "Mom, I fell down the stairs. It hurts so much..."

Mom immediately stood up.

I grabbed her desperately. "She's faking it! She knows you're here with me, so she's deliberately making up an excuse to lure you away."

Dad said nothing, but Mom had already picked up her bag. "Evie, I'm just going back to check on her. As soon as I know Lottie's okay, I'll come straight back and stay with you. It'll be just a little while."

Just a little while. Those were her exact words on my 12th birthday, too. But her hand had already slipped out of mine.

As I watched her hurry toward the door, I suddenly understood something—I still wasn't thin enough, and I wasn't pitiful enough either. At least, I wasn't yet so pitiful that they would keep their eyes on me forever.

I turned and walked toward the window.

Dr. Folston was the first to realize something was wrong. "Evelyn, what are you doing?"

Mom finally turned around.

I climbed onto the windowsill and smiled at her. "Mom, who will you save first this time?"

The color drained from her face instantly, and she lunged at me like a madwoman. But she was still one step too late.

I let go.