The live comments scrolling in my vision told me I was the cherished daughter in a perfect family story. That my parents and brother loved me more than anything. But in reality, Dad’s hand was quick to strike, Mom’s words were a constant barrage of insults, and my brother’s face was a permanent mask of cold indifference. Finally, after another round of their usual abuse, I was done. I would no longer listen to the comments. I would no longer be their perfect, obedient daughter. 1 I was so exhausted I forgot to feed my sister’s goldfish. Out of a whole tank, one of them died. My sister, Leslie, wouldn't let it go. She demanded I replace it. I tried to soothe her, promising I’d buy her a new one as soon as I got paid from my part-time job. But her eyes blazed with fury as she shrieked, "Buy a new one? Bubbles had a life! You think you can just buy a new life?" "Bubbles" was the name she’d given the goldfish. I stood there, frozen and unsure what to do. Hearing the commotion, my father stormed toward me. His palm cracked against my cheek. My head swam, the world tilting for a moment. My mother’s voice was a sharp, endless drone of insults in my ear. "It's Leslie's birthday today! Not only did you not get her a gift, but you deliberately killed her precious Bubbles. Sara, how can you be so wicked?" "Bubbles was her companion for three years, her most treasured pet! You're just angry we didn't take you to that fancy restaurant, so you took it out on Bubbles, on all of us!" And the comments scrolling before my eyes were still sympathizing with them. [Look, you can see it, can't you? Mr. Kripke, the ruthless business tycoon, his hand is trembling after hitting her!] [Oh my god, he loves her so much. Just touching her fills him with so much guilt.] [Right? And I've never seen Mom, the brilliant and gentle designer, look so disappointed! Her face is all flushed, it's so cute! My heart is melting!] [Sara is being so difficult. Why does she have to provoke her loving parents like this?] I shook my head, trying to force the words out. I wasn't being difficult. Cradling my stinging cheek, I tried to explain that after cleaning the entire house, I was just too tired. The fridge was empty, and I hadn't eaten all day. I’d collapsed onto my bed and fallen asleep, completely forgetting about the fish. "I didn't kill it on purpose..." But my brother Ethan’s cold voice cut through my explanation like a shard of ice. "Sara, stop it. You hate Leslie for taking the sixteen years of life that should have been yours, so you've been targeting her ever since you came back. Don't think for a second that just because you're my biological sister, I'll take your side. You have no idea how much we love Leslie." "You will take full responsibility for Bubbles' death." Tears finally spilled from my eyes, hot and heavy. The injustice felt like a physical weight in my chest, crushing me. I didn't understand. If Leslie cherished that fish so much, why didn't she feed it herself? Why hand the responsibility to me? There was a whole tank of them. I fed them every day, but I could never tell one from the other. How was Leslie so sure that the dead one was "Bubbles"? It was a fish. How was I supposed to take "full responsibility" for the death of a fish? Should I call the police to assess the damages? Ask a judge to sentence me to jail time? My father's foot shot out and kicked the back of my knee. My legs, already weak from hunger and exhaustion, buckled. I crashed to the floor, my kneecaps screaming in protest against the hard tile. It felt like they might have shattered. "Apologize to Leslie right now! And get on your knees and beg for Bubbles' forgiveness!" The order was given. My brother grabbed the back of my head and forced it down. Thump. Thump. Thump. Three hard knocks against the floor, and my dignity was buried along with that fish. I watched through a blur of tears as my parents wrapped Leslie in a comforting embrace, murmuring soft words to her. For me, there was only cold, merciless punishment. "You murdered Bubbles, so you will wear mourning for him. You will hold a vigil at his grave. Starting now, you will kneel in the garden by Bubbles' tomb. You will not move. You will not eat, you will not drink, and you will not sleep, until the seven-day mourning period is over." 2 It took Leslie ten minutes to carve "Tomb of Bubbles" onto a small wooden plank. Then, she buried "Bubbles" in the small garden. After she'd said a few words of remembrance, a light rain began to fall. She coughed twice, and my father immediately suggested she go back inside to avoid catching a chill. With a cloying sweetness and a look of "deep reluctance to leave Bubbles," she said, "Mom, Dad, Ethan, you should all go inside too. Bubbles wouldn't want you to get sick because of him." One thoughtful sentence, and the frowns on their faces melted away. As for me, I tried to stand... But my hands and feet had been bound with rope to a nearby fence post. [Sigh, Mr. Kripke loves Sara so much, but she just keeps messing up! Always making her little sister cry.] [Mrs. Kripke keeps looking back. She must be worried about Sara getting wet in the rain.] [Ethan’s eyes are red, too. They're only doing this to help Sara grow into a better person. My heart aches for them!] [Here it comes! Mr. Kripke is bringing out a burlap sack to keep the rain off Sara's head!] [So thoughtful! How can a father be this good...] As that last comment scrolled by, a heavy, grimy sack was pulled over my head. Panic seized me. My world plunged into darkness, my nose filled with the acrid, chemical stench of fertilizer. "Dad, no, please! I'm allergic to fertilizer, don't put this over my head..." I struggled, but my father’s foot slammed into my stomach. Pain exploded in my abdomen, and I doubled over, unable to breathe. His voice was a cold whisper by my ear. "If Leslie hadn't reminded me, I would have forgotten that mourners must be properly attired. Don't you dare take it off, or you'll force my hand." The chemical fumes from the sack flooded my lungs. I could feel my throat starting to swell, my nasal passages closing up. Breathing became a desperate, ragged effort. My skin erupted in painful, itching welts. I had to beg him. "Dad, please, I'm really allergic! Take it off! I'm going to die, I'm really going to die..." His only reply was a cold, dismissive snort. "You, who killed Leslie's pet out of pure jealousy? If you die, you die. Don't think for a second I'll shed a tear for you." My heart plummeted into a black abyss. And yet, the comments flashing before my eyes insisted... he loved me. [His eyes are all red. If Sara would just apologize properly, he'd forgive her in a heartbeat!] [Why is she so stubborn? He even remembered it's her birthday today. He has a surprise for her.] [Mom and Ethan are watching from the window. They're so worried their hearts are hurting. How can they love her this much! Come on, cherished daughter, pull yourself together! Apologize! There's a cake and presents waiting for you inside!] Was it true? If I just apologized, would he take the sack off? If I just apologized, would Mom give me my presents? If I just apologized, would Ethan sing me "Happy Birthday"? "I'm sorry, Dad, I was wrong! I shouldn't have forgotten to feed my sister's goldfish. It's all my fault. Please, forgive me. Please, Mom, Ethan... Leslie... forgive me..." I groveled on the wet ground like a dog, pleading with him. But my father's voice seemed to crawl up from the depths of hell itself, terrifying and final. "You're only realizing your mistake now? It's too late." "You stay here and reflect. Atone for your sins against Bubbles." "And if you die... you deserve it." I should have known. 3 I’d lost count of how many times the comments had deceived me. Every time my parents and brother lashed out, the comments would reassure me that they loved me fiercely. They just didn’t know how to express it, they’d say. I needed to be the mature one, the good girl who tried to please them. But every attempt I made to win their favor was met with them pushing me further and further away. The comments said Dad had a stressful job, that he’d made enemies, and that any stranger in the house—me—was a security risk. The comments said Mom was a design genius, her hands meant for creating, not for mundane chores. The comments said my brother was a legendary race car driver, a man of speed and adrenaline who shouldn’t be tied down by domestic duties. So, the housework fell to me and Leslie. But Leslie, coddled and pampered her whole life, was useless. She’d slip while mopping, burn herself while cooking, and scrape her delicate fingers raw while washing clothes. And every time, my parents and brother would rain their fury down on me. They’d blame me, the older sister, for not taking proper care of her. Slowly, I took over everything. Even then, they were never satisfied. Leslie’s pencil was dull? It was my fault for not sharpening it. My parents and brother threw away all my drawing pencils. Leslie woke up late and missed the school bus? My fault for not waking her. They grounded me for two months, forbidding me from going to school. Leslie spent all her allowance and had no money for a drink? My fault for being stingy and not buying her one. They confiscated all my money and forced me to get a part-time job to pay for my own school fees and living expenses. Everything was always my fault. My parents believed it. The comments believed it. And now, as I was suffocating inside a fertilizer sack, on the verge of death, the comments still believed it was my fault. [You're the most pathetic 'cherished daughter' I've ever seen!] [Couldn't you have just apologized earlier? You had to go and make your family lose face!] [They don't even know how to get you back inside for your cake now!] [The cake will go bad if it's not eaten today. I guess they can celebrate your birthday for you, through the glass.] [Ethan is singing 'Happy Birthday' so passionately! That deep voice is so sexy. He's such a doting brother!] [The gift they got you is that art book you've always wanted. It's on your bed right now.] [See? We told you they love you most. Next time, don't make them angry, okay? Just be a good little cherished daughter!] Through the gaps in the burlap, I could see the warm, happy scene playing out behind the garden's glass doors. My heart was a dead, cold thing in my chest. There wasn't a flicker of feeling left. The cake was for Leslie. The presents were for Leslie. The birthday song was for Leslie. And that art book the comments mentioned... it was just an old one Leslie didn't want anymore. It wasn't just the comments that had been lying to me. I had been lying to myself. If they truly loved me, would they have treated me like a servant? Would they have ever laid a hand on me, or screamed such hateful words? Love and its absence are as clear as night and day. They didn't love me. They never had. And in that moment, I made a vow. I would never listen to the comments again. I would never again be my parents' and brother's good little girl. If I can just survive these seven days...
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