After Dad died, Mom got a big settlement check. But I never knew where it went. She didn't buy me clothes, even took out high-interest loans, and would haggle over fifty cents at the grocery store. She wasn't very nice to me. Didn't let me have friends, locked me in the house at night, never smiled at me. Then, I died. ... I died, and my soul floated in the air. I looked down in disgust at my own half-naked body being pulled from the water. Bloated and pale, it was truly ugly. I couldn't stand it there. It was so cold. As if guided, my spirit started drifting, slowly, towards home. It was the same familiar small town. Just as I drifted into the main street, I saw Mom. She looked much older than other women her age, her cheeks lined with dry wrinkles, streaks of white at her temples. Mom had gotten so thin these past couple of years, often with bruises on her face. I never knew where she got them. Right now, she was arguing with the old lady who ran the vegetable stand. "These greens aren't even fresh, nobody's gonna want 'em. How about you just give 'em all to me for two bucks!" Mom frowned, looking like she was doing the lady a favor by taking them off her hands, but her grip on that bunch of collards was tight. "No way! I'd lose my shirt sellin' 'em to you for that!" the stand owner snapped back, getting flustered. "Why not? C'mon, knock off fifty cents, and I'll buy a bit more." ... She was always doing things that annoyed me! What was the point of fighting over a few dollars' worth of vegetables? Look at her, couldn't win the argument, so now she's resorting to insults. She never finished school, so she always had a sharp tongue, could argue someone into knots. Whenever she won one of these fights, she'd be happy all day. She also used to pick up discarded vegetable leaves people didn't want, ignoring the dirty looks she got. That's why nobody in town really liked Mom. They all said she was stingy, hard to get along with. When did it start? I thought back hard. Oh, right! Ever since Dad died, Mom was like a different person. She became fierce, foul-mouthed, ready to pick a fight with anyone over anything. Everyone said Mom had jinxed Dad, brought him bad luck that killed him. Even Grandma said so. So, I didn't like my mom. She made me lose my dad. Because of her, kids in town used to make fun of me when I was little. They all said I was the kid with no dad, and a widow mom who'd caused his death. It hurt so much, I'd run home crying. When Mom saw me, she'd give me a cold stare and scold me: "They say that stuff, don't you know how to talk back? All you do is cry!" Then, like a cornered animal, she'd grab a kitchen knife and storm over to their house, yelling and cursing. The things she said were awful, loud enough for half the town to hear. After that, I was completely alone. No kids wanted to play with me. I hated Mom. Not only did she cost me my dad, but she cost me my friends too. She had so many bad habits, always arguing everywhere. It drove me crazy and made me a little scared of her. After a while, I got used to it. Mom was always serious. Even when I was sick, she wouldn't coddle me. She'd hold my hand, and though it was warm, the rough calluses made me flinch. She'd look at me with a sneer, "Useless thing. What's there to be scared of with a little sickness? It won't kill you." At that moment, I felt like the most pitiful kid in the world. No dad, and a mom who didn't seem to care. At least it forced me to become independent. Later, I started school. Whenever there was a parent-teacher conference, Mom always showed up, ready to embarrass me. Other moms weren't exactly glamorous, but at least they looked neat. But my mom, always dusty and disheveled, like she'd just crawled out of somewhere. She never bothered to clean herself up. After a while, I stopped telling her about the conferences. When the teacher asked, I'd say she was busy. But somehow, Mom always found out and showed up right at the last minute! And she had to make a scene, standing in the doorway in her dirt-stained clothes, waving at me in front of the whole class, making me want to disappear. Back then, I never stopped to think about what Mom was doing, why she was always dirty. My young self just couldn't understand. Why did I have a mother like this? Always doing things that made me ashamed. Maybe she just didn't care about me at all, so she acted however she wanted. I always envied other kids whose moms could give them some sense of normalcy, of decency. Me? I had nothing. Nothing but a cage... 2 Mom was also incredibly controlling. She even interfered with my friends. Anytime I got close to a classmate, she insisted I bring them home for her inspection. And after meeting them, she'd purse her lips, unsatisfied. She always said I was making friends with "bad influences," that I needed to cut them off. I scoffed inwardly. What did someone who never went to school know about good friends?! If I wanted to go out at night, she'd strictly forbid it, locking me inside. Then she'd grab her bag and hurry out herself. She never explained where she was going, and I wasn't curious. Through the window, I'd silently watch the other kids playing outside in the evening, envious. They had that happiness. I didn't. When I got to high school, my features started to blossom. People on the street would comment on how pretty I was becoming, which made me secretly happy. Gradually, I started caring about how I looked. I begged Mom to buy me nice clothes, but she always bought the plainest things. So frumpy, it made me cringe. But she didn't see it. She stubbornly believed those clothes suited me. She also constantly lectured me about studying hard. "You're a student. What do you need to dress up so fancy for? There are creeps out there. You need to focus on your studies." Other girls dressed up nicely, but I mostly just wore my plain clothes or whatever was required for school. Because I was afraid people would laugh at the ugly clothes Mom bought. That teenage pride. Because of Mom, my insecurity started early. I knew we weren't rich, but we should have had enough for basics, right? Maybe Mom wanted me to be looked down on, just like her. After all, she was disliked everywhere she went. But I didn't want that. Whenever Mom and I went out together, I never walked too close to her, afraid someone would realize she was my mother. Sometimes, Mom would try to take my arm, and I'd always frown and push her hand away. Mom's presence felt like a heavy weight constantly pressing down on me. I just wanted to grow up fast, get away, far, far away from her. During school, my good grades and looks earned me the appreciation of teachers. But because I didn't talk much with classmates, I was isolated again. Mom knew nothing about this. She left early and came home late every day. Probably working, I assumed, though I never knew what she did. If I had understood then, maybe I wouldn't have... Mom had a reputation for being fierce. Although she never hit me, she wasn't gentle either. She rarely smiled at me. She was always sternly telling me I had to get into a top college! Maybe my excellent grades were just something for her to brag about. She was so selfish! My life was nothing but studying, studying, studying. Mom controlled me. I felt like a bird she kept caged, unable to spread my wings. She got her wish, though. I scored in the top ten in the state on the college entrance exams, got amazing scores. But I wasn't particularly happy. My mom, however, must have been ecstatic. Look, there she is now, finished haggling for vegetables, already bragging to the neighbors about my scores. "My daughter, she's gonna be the one to fly out of this town and make something of herself, hahaha!" Her grin nearly reached her ears. Looks like my homeroom teacher already called her. I'd never seen her look so happy. Was getting into a top college really that big a deal? Later, I would find out. It truly was her lifelong dream. 3 My soul felt tethered to Mom, drifting wherever she went. We were back home now. Everything in the house was the same, filled with the familiar smells of everyday life. Mom's sallow face was full of joy as she eagerly cooked dinner. It was the same old meal: rice, collard greens, and fried pork chops. I was so sick of it I could puke, but she always made it, tirelessly. Then she went into her room and brought out a bag. Inside seemed to be a box. She placed the bag carefully on the table. What was it? Was it for me? I was a little curious. Mom looked at the clock on the wall, then stood by the door, waiting for me. She waited for a long, long time, until the sun began to set. She rubbed her aching lower back, starting to mutter, "Why isn't that girl home yet? The food's getting cold." Oh, right. She didn't know I was dead. She would never see me again. I was finally free. After a little longer, Mom's face started showing real anxiety. Like an ant on a hot pan, she paced back and forth by the door. Then suddenly, she slammed the door shut and rushed outside. My soul flew along with Mom's figure through the air. The weather was getting colder, the air biting. Mom didn't seem to feel it, rushing through the town, yelling my name. Some neighbors heard the noise and peeked out, saw it was my mom, and shut their doors again. Makes sense. Nobody liked Mom, why would they help her look for me? The whole town echoed with Mom's calls, her voice filled with worry and panic. I desperately waved at her. I'm here, right here! But she couldn't hear or see me. I could only watch helplessly as she ran out of town, heading towards the school. Her shadow stretched long under the streetlights. Mom was so short, so small. All these years, she'd been like this intimidating force, giving me the illusion she was tall and imposing. Mom searched all the way from the school to the bus stop, but there was no sign of me. She got even more frantic, mostly just lost and unsure what to do. I'd never seen such panic on her face. Growing up, my image of her was always arrogant, bossy, supremely confident. Even though it was winter, beads of sweat covered her forehead, trickling down her cheeks. I wanted to wipe the sweat away for her, but I couldn't touch her. Stop looking. I'm already dead. I said silently in my heart. Just then, a phone rang. Mom pulled an old flip phone from her faded jeans pocket. I scoffed silently. That phone was at least ten years old, and she still wouldn't replace it. So cheap! After answering the call, I saw her face turn deathly white, whiter than my own dead face. She swayed, her whole body trembling, leaning against a railing just to stay upright. Then, the phone slipped from her hand and hit the ground, automatically switching to speakerphone. "Linda? Mrs. Hayes? Are you listening? You need to come to the riverbank. They found a girl's body... they think it might be Chloe..." It was my homeroom teacher's voice. So Mom knew. She knew I was dead. Suddenly, I didn't dare... I didn't dare look at my mom's expression. If she found out how I died. She'd be furious, wouldn't she? 4 Dark, heavy clouds pressed down on the sky, making the whole world feel hushed and suffocating. Then, a light drizzle began to fall. The wind howled, chilling me to the bone. Mom practically dragged herself to the riverbank. By now, my body was surrounded by yellow police tape, and a crowd had gathered outside the perimeter. Mom stood on her tiptoes at the edge, peering in. When she saw my body, I clearly saw her stumble back. Then she abruptly lowered her head, fists clenched, trembling slightly. Rainwater streamed down her thin jawline. After a long moment, Mom finally lifted her head. Her eyes looked a little red. It was dark out. It must have been my imagination. Mom was so strong, how could she cry? I heard people in the crowd whispering beside me. "What happened here? Suicide?" "Maybe murder, you think?" "Nah, you guys got it wrong. Heard when they pulled her out, she wasn't wearing pants. Definitely raped and then drowned." ... I had to admit, that last spectator hit the nail on the head. That's exactly how I died. I had no future left. Mom looked up, staring intently at my body for a while. Suddenly, she started shaking her head, backing away, muttering: "No, no, that's not my daughter! My daughter's waiting at home for me to cook dinner, I need to get back..." With that, she turned and stumbled away, disappearing into the rain. I was a bit speechless. My face was bloated from the water, but surely she could still recognize me? Mom ran all the way home, bursting through the door. Inside the house, she paced frantically, calling my name, her only answer the empty air. She collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath like a fish out of water. Only then did I notice the food on the table hadn't been touched. Mom, she must still be hungry. So foolish. I floated over to her, helplessly whispering in her ear, "Mom, I'm really dead. Stop waiting for me." Late that night, Mom sat at my desk. She carefully took a photograph out of her pocket. That photo... I drifted closer, looking carefully. It was a picture of Mom and me. It had been torn up and taped back together. How did it get torn? I shook my head, trying to remember. Oh, right! When I was little, blaming Mom for Dad's death, I tore up the only photo we had together. She actually kept it. Mom really was frugal and sentimental, wouldn't even throw away a torn photo. I pursed my lips. Her dry, wrinkled hand stroked the image of little me in the photo, over and over again. Mom, when she was young, she used to be so pretty too. Why did she look so worn down now? After a moment, she took out that bag again. And I finally knew what was inside. It was an iPhone. So, Mom remembered. I had mentioned wanting an iPhone a few times. Mom had looked pained then, saying she didn't have enough money. At the time, I thought she was just being cheap. A faint, unidentifiable emotion stirred in my chest. I had misunderstood her. Mom stroked the photo, her voice softer than I'd ever heard it: "Mommy bought you your favorite gift. Why aren't you home yet?" As she said this, I heard a soft "plink." It was a tear.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "392404", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel