"1 I was born sun-allergic—even a short exposure burned my skin. Overwhelmed, my father left. My mother divorced him at once, threw herself into work to pay for my treatments and became a powerful businesswoman, traveling the world with me to find a cure. At five, a psychic said a second child could be my spiritual shield. The next day, she brought home an orphan girl named Pearl. “Your job is to protect your sister,” Mom told her. Pearl smiled sweetly: “I’ll keep Mary safe for life.” Charming and Mom’s favorite, she was put in full charge of me. But Pearl hated me—she shone flashlights at me in the dark and lied to Mom about my misdeeds, acting perfect when Mom was home. I cried to tell the truth, only to be scolded: “Your sister is lovely, Mary. Be grateful.” Mom’s eyes grew colder, so I stopped speaking up, even hiding my blistered, bleeding wounds. On my eighth birthday, Pearl tricked me into staying in the sun all day. I knew I was dying. That night, two strange men came to my bed. “Before I die,” I whispered, “could I feel Mom’s love one last time?” The man in white sighed: “Swap souls with your sister for a day.” The man in black objected: “That’s against the rules.” Amid their argument, something went wrong—Mom’s soul entered my body instead of Pearl’s. ... The white-suited man’s face, once pale, flushed a deep red. His impossibly long tongue shot out and wrapped around his partner’s neck. “Look what you’ve done! Now there are two souls in one body!” The man in black casually unwound the tongue with one hand and placed the other on my head. He smiled. “Technically, it’s one and a half.” “Half of her soul remains in her own body, and the other half will stay with you for a day. Are you willing, little one?” Feeling my mother inside me… it was the warmest I had ever felt. I smiled at them and nodded vigorously. Before they vanished, they spoke in unison. “We will return for you tomorrow.” 2 After they left, I tiptoed into my mother’s bedroom. The men had said she wouldn’t wake for another day. I tucked the blankets around her, making sure she wouldn’t get cold. She looked so peaceful. Content, I returned to my own bed, waiting for my mother’s half-soul to wake up and talk to me. But it wasn’t Mom I was met with. It was Pearl. She entered my room carrying a brand-new lamp. I dreaded those lamps. This one had a symbol on it: UVC MAX. I didn’t know what the letters meant, but I knew that light made my skin burn with a pain that was beyond words. This was the 99th lamp Pearl had brought home. She was always finding new ways to make me cry, to make me suffer. Instinctively, I pulled on my sun-protective hoodie and mask. Pearl ripped the hoodie off me, her voice sharp with anger. “What are you hiding for, Mary? You made a mistake. Don’t you know how to atone for your sins?” I stared at the lamp in her hand, trembling. I dropped to my knees, begging. “Pearl, I didn’t do anything today! I came straight home and went to my room. I didn’t even eat dinner.” She didn’t believe me. She ground her foot onto my hand, pressing down, her weight a crushing force. “You little liar! Fraud! Mom barely has time to come home, and you used it to tattle on me again, didn’t you?!” I tore my hand free from under her shoe, the sudden movement sending me sprawling backward onto the floor. I was terrified of her. I could only curl into a ball, protecting my head. “I didn’t, Pearl,” I whimpered. Her teeth were clenched. “You didn’t? Then why didn’t Mom hug me when she got home today?” I shook my head frantically. “She must have been tired from work. Pearl, I’m really not lying.” Her eyes were bloodshot in the moonlight, her mouth opening and closing like the witch from a fairy tale. “You spent the whole day in the sun. Why aren’t you dead yet?!” Without another word, she flicked the switch on the lamp. She aimed the harsh beam directly at my exposed face and arms. Agonizing pain spread like fire across my skin. The sores, already raw, began to bleed again. “Aah! Pearl, it hurts! Please, I’m begging you, please stop!” Perhaps it was the searing pain that did it, but at that moment, my mother’s soul woke up inside me. She was stunned, a silent observer to the horror. Pearl’s face was a twisted, ferocious mask in the pale light. It took Mom a moment to process it. Pearl, what are you doing?! Where did you get a lamp like that? You know your sister can’t be exposed to this light! But the girl before us didn’t flinch. She moved the lamp even closer. Mom panicked, using my small hands to push it away. Put it down! It’s me, Mom, do you hear me? Pearl looked at me as if I were insane. “Mary, you’ve really lost your mind!” Mom began to fight her, using my own small body. But even though we were the same age, my frail, weakened frame was no match for Pearl’s healthy one. After a brief struggle, Pearl shoved me hard to the ground. She loomed over me, her voice a low growl. “You’ve really gone too far this time, Mary!” The next second, she cranked the lamp to its highest setting. The intense light hit my arm, and the weeping, open sores were instantly scorched black. Blood and pus seeped through the fabric of my sleeve, spreading into a dark, crimson stain. “Aah! It hurts… It hurts so much!” I heard the screams, thin and desperate. That wasn't my voice. It was my mother's. For years, the burning, blistering pain had been a constant companion. I was numb to it. But my mother was not. This was the first time she had ever felt it. The agony made her groan inside my body, her every breath a shudder. A tight, sharp pain bloomed in my own chest, choking me, leaving me unable to speak. It was my fault. I was the one making my mother hurt like this. I glared at Pearl, my hand fumbling for something on the nightstand. With all the strength I had left, I threw it at the lamp. It shattered, sending shards of glass flying. One of them sliced Pearl’s cheek. She clutched her face, glanced nervously toward Mom’s room, and then turned back to me, her eyes filled with hatred. “Just you wait, Mary. I’ll deal with you tomorrow!” I looked down at what I had thrown. It was my favorite photograph. My heart ached as I picked it up. It was from before Pearl came, a picture of Mom holding me at Disneyland. We were both smiling so brightly then. I gently wiped a smudge off my mother’s face in the photo. After a long silence, she finally spoke inside my head. Mary, how am I in your body? And… has Pearl always been like this? I bit my lip, saying nothing. I was afraid that if I said the wrong thing, she would get angry with me again, just like before. When I didn’t answer, she asked again. Why didn’t you tell me? Then, she answered her own question. It’s my fault. You did tell me. It was me… it was me who didn’t believe you. Yes. I had told her three years ago. The first time was right after Pearl arrived. She ""fell"" down the stairs and blamed me. “Mary doesn’t like me,” she’d sobbed. “She thinks I’m stealing her mommy.” Back then, Mom had held Pearl in her arms and given me a look I had never seen before. The second time was shortly after we started elementary school. She hid my protective face mask during lunch. It was the summer solstice, and the sun was brutal. I was sick all over by the time I got home. “Pearl hid my mask,” I told Mom. But Mom found the mask in my bedroom. “Mary, you forgot it yourself. Why would you blame your sister?” She punished me by sending me to bed without dinner. When Pearl brought a tray of food to my room, my mouth watered. But just as I reached for it, she knocked it to the floor. Then she ran to Mom, crying, “Mary said she’d rather starve than see my face! Maybe I should just go back to the orphanage.” Mom stopped her, then turned to me, her voice furious. “Mary, if you bully your sister one more time, I’m sending you to the orphanage!” Pearl leaned against my mother’s shoulder, her body shaking with fake sobs, a triumphant smirk hidden on her face. That was when I understood. No matter what I said, my mother would never believe me again. I didn’t want to go to the orphanage. I wanted to stay with my mom forever. So there was a third time, and a fourth, and countless more after that. No matter how Pearl hurt me, no matter how much pain I was in, I never told my mother again. And now, I only had one day left to live. “It’s not your fault, Mommy,” I told her. “It’s my fault for being sick.” “Don’t be scared, Mommy. After tomorrow, you’ll be okay again. Just stay with me for one day, okay?” Her voice in my head was choked with tears. Mary, for these past three years, I was wrong… I’m so sorry. It was my fault. I promise, from now on, I will be with you for the rest of our lives. I desperately wanted to hug her, to tell her it was okay. But I couldn’t. And we didn’t have a lifetime. Still, to feel her this close to me… it filled me with a peace and happiness I couldn’t describe. That night felt like when I was very little. My mother and I talked for a long, long time. So long that I started to believe tomorrow would never come. 3 I woke early the next morning. Out of habit, I went to the kitchen trash can, picked out yesterday’s leftovers, and began stuffing them into my mouth. Mom’s voice was shocked. Mary, why are you eating out of the garbage? My mouth was full. “I didn’t eat at all yesterday,” I mumbled. “I’m so hungry I could faint.” “It’s okay, Mommy.” I peeled a hard-boiled egg I’d found. “See? This one is still clean.” This was my last day with her. I needed my strength. Where is your breakfast? she asked. Doesn’t anyone make you breakfast? I lowered my head, not answering. From the dining table, I could hear laughter. It was our housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, scrolling through videos on her phone. Mom’s anger flared. Where is Mary’s breakfast? Mrs. Gable stared at me, a puzzled look on her face as if she’d never seen me before. “Pearl is the young lady of this house. Who do you think you are, shouting orders?” Mom was incredulous. Even the help treated me this way. She was about to lash out again, but I grabbed my backpack and fled the house. I knew that if I talked back to Mrs. Gable, she would punish me too. Once, when Mom was away, I had simply said, “Ma’am, I’m hungry.” She and Pearl locked me in my room for three days without food. When they finally let me out, they told me to eat with Sunny. Sunny was our guard dog. I was so hungry back then that even the dog food tasted good. So, for me, leftovers from the trash were a feast. Outside, Pearl was already in the car. As I put one foot inside, the door slammed shut. BANG. My fingers were caught in the jamb. The pain was so sharp it brought tears to my eyes. “Do you really think you deserve to ride in a car, Mary?” Pearl sneered. She turned to our driver. “Let’s go!” The car sped away, leaving me in a cloud of dust. I stood there, clutching my throbbing fingers. “Mommy,” I whispered. “I have to walk to school today. I’m going to be late. Are… are you mad at me?” Her voice was tight. So this is why you were always late? I nodded slightly. Halfway there, it started to rain. Luckily, I had an umbrella. But when I opened it, it was riddled with holes, big and small. This was the umbrella Mom had bought me at Disneyland when I was five. I loved it. But now it was ruined. Inside, scrawled in big red letters, were five words: MARY IS A PIG! I knew it was Pearl’s doing. Mom’s voice was a low growl. When I get back in my own body tomorrow, I’m going to make that girl pay! “It’s okay, Mommy,” I said, trying to soothe her. “Let’s just go to school.” I folded the broken umbrella and put it in my bag, walking on through the downpour. The rain got heavier, soaking my clothes through. The cold water seeped onto my skin, and a thousand tiny needles of pain pricked at me. Mom must have been hurting even more. Suddenly, I felt so stupid. I couldn’t even protect an umbrella. I was making my mother suffer with me. I was so sorry. The rain fell harder. My eyes felt wet, but I hadn’t cried in a very, very long time. It was my mother. She was crying. She didn’t speak for the rest of the walk. But I could feel her sadness, heavy and silent inside me. "
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