I went missing when I was eight years old. The trauma was so severe that my mother suffered a complete mental breakdown, living her days in madness. To make her forget me, my father secretly mixed antipsychotic drugs into her meals every single day. He burned all my photos and all my clothes. "Just forget it, Claire." "I'm doing this for your own good. We're still young, we can have another one. If you keep acting crazy like this, it's going to ruin my career." My mother desperately tried to claw the pills out of her mouth, but he had her tied to the bed and injected the drugs by force. "If you keep this up, I'll lock you in a sanitarium, and you'll never see the light of day again." Tears streamed down my mother's face. She stopped speaking and was locked away by him as a lunatic for ten long years. Until the day I showed up at their door, pretending to apply for a job. My father waved me away impatiently, telling me to get lost. But my mother suddenly broke free from her restraints and ran barefoot to the front door. She gently smoothed my messy bangs: "Baby, you're playing hide-and-seek with Mommy, and Mommy didn't cheat." "Mommy has been in the house, waiting for you this whole time." ... 1 Arthur's fingers froze. Mrs. Higgins from next door was peering in, holding a grocery bag. He pulled his foot back, the look of disgust on his face instantly morphing into a bitter, helpless smile. "I'm so sorry you had to see this. Claire, she..." "Her condition has gotten worse lately. She's even mistaking strangers for family." As he spoke, Arthur smoothly moved in to pry my mother's hands off me. His knuckles turned white from the force, leaving an angry red mark on the back of my mother's hand. But my mother held onto me with a death grip. Her tangled, matted hair hid her face, revealing only a pair of wide, terrified eyes. "No... don't go! She's my baby! She's my baby!" My mother shrieked, her entire body trembling violently. Arthur leaned in close, lowering his voice to a menacing whisper right in her ear. "Claire, do you want to be locked in the dark room again? Let go." My mother's body went completely rigid. Her fingers trembled, and she slowly released her grip. I immediately reached out and grabbed my mother's thin, skeletal hand. "Mr. Sterling, since your wife seems to like me so much, why don't you let me give it a try?" I looked up, flashing a bright, professional smile, and casually smoothed my mother's disheveled bangs. "I'm a certified senior caregiver, specializing in patients with psychiatric disorders. Here are my credentials." Without waiting for his approval, I pulled out my forged ID badge and shoved it right in his face. Mrs. Higgins chimed in from the doorway. "Oh, Arthur, since Claire doesn't seem to reject the girl, why not let her stay and give it a try!" "Dealing with her crazy episodes day in and day out, it can't be easy for you." Cornered and unable to refuse without looking suspicious, a flash of dark hostility crossed Arthur's face. "Alright then. I'll be counting on you." He stepped aside. The front door clicked shut, plunging the house into gloom. Arthur instantly dropped his facade, kicking the shoe cabinet with all his might. The loud crash terrified my mother; she let out a whimpering cry and shrank into the corner. "Drag her inside and scrub her clean! Don't let that sour stench of hers near me!" Arthur loosened his tie, casting a contemptuous look at my mother before turning his gaze to me. "New girl. I don't care who you are. In this house, there is only one rule." He took a step closer, towering over me intimidatingly. "Obedience. I don't like people who talk too much, and I despise people who think they're smart. Do you understand?" I lowered my head and nodded submissively. "I understand, Mr. Sterling. I will make sure the Mrs. is 'obedient'." Arthur scoffed and walked into his study. I helped my mother up from the corner. Her hands were ice cold, dirt packed deep beneath her fingernails. Her wrists were encircled with dark, overlapping bruises. I guided her to the dining table. On the table sat a bowl of cold oatmeal, alongside a few white pills. Arthur walked out holding a glass of warm water. "Crush the pills, mix them into the oatmeal, and feed it to her." He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching us intently. I picked up the pills. Chlorpromazine. A heavy-duty antipsychotic. "Mr. Sterling, this dosage... isn't it a bit high?" Arthur's eyes turned icy. He walked over, took the spoon, and stirred the oatmeal. The spoon clinked sharply against the bowl. "Claire is very sick. How can she get better if she doesn't take her medication? I'm doing this for her own good. For the good of this family." He shoved the spoon into my hand. "Feed her. Don't let her spit it out. Every single drop." My mother stared at the bowl of oatmeal, her lips clamped tightly shut, a low, guttural moan escaping her throat. "No... poison... it's poison..." Arthur sighed heavily, reached out, and pinched my mother's jaw. I watched as her jawbone turned white under his crushing grip. "Claire, be a good girl. Once you eat this, you won't feel so miserable anymore. Why do you never understand my good intentions?" Smiling, he applied more pressure, forcing her mouth open. Using my body to block his view, I quickly pinched my mother's palm. Her eyes flickered, and she looked up at me. As I went to feed her, I used my thumb to swiftly slide the pills into my sleeve, scooping up only plain oatmeal and putting it into her mouth. "Swallow it." Arthur commanded. My mother swallowed with obvious difficulty. Arthur stared at her throat for a few seconds. Only when he was absolutely certain she had swallowed did he let go. He wiped his fingers meticulously with a napkin. "See? That's a good girl." He glanced at the wall clock and adjusted his suit jacket. "I have to attend the city's 'Model Husband' award ceremony tonight." "Keep a close eye on her. Don't let her wander around, and absolutely do not let her make those weird noises." Arthur walked to the door, then turned back to give me one last look. "Do a good job, and your salary doubles. Screw this up... and I'll lock you in that room right alongside her." The front door slammed shut. My mother slumped in her chair, her eyes vacant and empty. I dropped to my knees in front of her, gently cupping her gaunt, hollowed-out face. "Mom... It's me, Lily. I'm your Lily..." 2 My mother acted as if she hadn't heard me, curling herself into a tight, trembling ball. "No poison... this time there's no poison..." I buried my face in her lap and wept uncontrollably. I got lost when I was eight. I survived in an orphanage, and all these years, my only goal was to find my way back home. The TV in the living room suddenly flared to life. Arthur stood on an illuminated stage, holding a gleaming trophy, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "Truthfully, I haven't done enough. My wife, Claire, has suffered from severe mental health issues ever since we lost our daughter." "But I swear, no matter what happens to her, I will never, ever give up on her." Thunderous applause erupted from the audience, and countless camera flashes illuminated his earnest face. My mother's body convulsed violently. She grabbed the empty oatmeal bowl and hurled it at the TV screen. "Liar! Demon! He's a demon!" I threw my arms around her, holding her tight as she thrashed wildly. I pushed up her sleeves. Her arms were covered in needle marks. Old scars layered over new ones; some of the puncture sites were oozing pus. "Mom, I'm going to kill him. I swear to you, I'm going to kill him..." I gritted my teeth, forcing the words out one by one. The sound of a key turning in the lock. I quickly wiped my tears and half-carried my mother back into her room. Arthur was home. Clinging to his arm was a heavily made-up woman, leading a little boy who looked to be about six or seven. The moment the woman stepped inside, she pinched her nose and fanned the air disgustedly. "Ugh, Arthur, this is your house? Why does it smell like a crazy person? How can anyone live in this dump?" Arthur picked up the little boy and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Buddy, this is Daddy's... oh, I mean, this is your cousin's house. This will be our home from now on." The little boy, "Buddy," held a soccer ball, his eyes darting around the room mischievously. "Cousin Arthur, where's the crazy lady? I wanna see the crazy lady!" Buddy wriggled out of Arthur's arms and viciously kicked a piece of the shattered porcelain bowl across the floor. I stood at the end of the hallway, watching this twisted "family of three." Arthur looked slightly uncomfortable for a split second, but his expression quickly smoothed out. "Caregiver, this is my cousin, Maya. She's here specifically to help me take care of Claire. And this is her son, Buddy." He pointed at the broken porcelain on the floor. "What happened here? Did Claire throw another tantrum? Clean this up immediately, don't let the kid cut himself." Maya plopped down on the sofa, kicking off her high heels. "Hey, you there. Get me a glass of water first. Warm. Not too hot, not too cold. And make sure it's fresh." I gripped the broom handle tight, turned around, and went to get the water. Suddenly, Buddy took his soccer ball and kicked it with all his might right at the crack in the door where my mother was hiding. Smack. The heavy ball hit my mother square in the face. She let out a tortured scream and collapsed, blood gushing from her nose. "Hahaha! Bullseye! The crazy lady is bleeding!" Buddy clapped his hands, howling with laughter. I dropped the water glass and lunged forward. "Mom!" I helped her up. Her face was covered in blood, and she was shaking uncontrollably, clutching her face. "Mr. Sterling! Is this what you call taking care of her?!" I whipped my head around and glared at Arthur. Arthur frowned, walking over to look down at us imperiously. "He's just a kid, he doesn't know any better. They were just playing. What are you yelling for? Don't scare the boy." He sighed, crouched down, picked up the soccer ball, and casually dusted it off. "Claire, really now. You knew we had guests over, and you still hide there trying to scare people." "Look, you got Buddy's ball all dirty." My mother's dignity was worth less than a bastard child's soccer ball. Maya strolled over as well. "Ew, Arthur, look how filthy she is. All covered in blood. Get her out of here before she traumatizes Buddy." "Did you hear her? Take her inside and stop the bleeding. Stop making a scene." Arthur handed the ball back to Buddy. I helped my mother to her feet. As we walked past the kid, I shot him a glare so cold it could freeze water. Buddy recoiled in terror and burst into loud wails. "Daddy! She glared at me! The servant glared at me!" Arthur turned around, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Caregiver, that look in your eyes... I don't like it." He slowly walked right up to me. "In this house, your eyes don't need to be too sharp. You just need to see clearly who the master is." "If you can't even manage that basic level of awareness, I have no problem finding a replacement for you." 3 Late at night. The sound of Maya's giggles and Arthur's heavy breathing echoed from the master bedroom. The sounds bled right through the walls and into the storage closet. Ever since Maya and her brat moved in, Arthur had banished my mother to this closet. It was barely fifty square feet, windowless, and reeked of mold. My mother lay curled up on a rigid cot, groaning in agony as a high fever wracked her body. "Water... water..." I was just about to get up and pour her a glass when the door swung open. Arthur stood in the doorway, wearing a silk robe and holding a medical kit. Backlit by the hallway lights, his face was cast in shadow. "You're being too damn loud." He closed the door behind him. "It's the middle of the night. What the hell are you wailing for? Are you trying to let all the neighbors know I'm abusing you?" Arthur opened the medical kit, pulled out a syringe, and drew a thick, yellow liquid into the vial. My mother stared in sheer terror, desperately trying to scramble under the cot. "No! No needles! Arthur, I'm sorry! I won't do it again! Please!" Arthur stepped over me impatiently, grabbed her by the hair, and forcefully dragged her back onto the bed. "Claire, why can't you just be a good girl and listen?" "This is an imported nutritional injection. It costs thousands of dollars a pop. I treat you so well, and you're still not satisfied?" He drove his knee into my mother's stomach, pinning her down. I huddled in the shadows behind the door, gripping my hidden voice recorder tight. I can't move. I need to make sure he burns in hell for this. Arthur raised the syringe, gently stroking my mother's face. "Claire, go to sleep. Once you're asleep, it won't hurt anymore, and you won't remember any of those sad things." "If you don't go to sleep like a good girl and keep making a racket in my house, I'll have no choice but to send you to that place." My mother's eyes widened in sheer panic, her body going completely rigid. The needle pierced her skin. As the liquid was pushed into her veins, my mother's frantic struggles faded into weak, shallow pants. Arthur pulled out the needle, tossed the empty vial into the trash can, and patted my mother's cheek in satisfaction. "Such a good girl." He stood up and walked out, humming a cheerful little tune. The next morning, I was jolted awake by a piercing scream. In the kitchen, Maya was clutching the back of her hand, screaming bloody murder. A pot of scalding soup was splashed all over the floor. My mother stood nearby, holding an empty bowl, looking completely dazed. "Murder! The crazy bitch is trying to kill me! Arthur, help!" Only a tiny patch of skin on Maya's hand was actually red, but she was screaming as if she were being burned alive. Arthur rushed into the kitchen. "What the hell is going on?!" Maya threw herself into Arthur's arms and started sobbing theatrically. "Arthur, I just wanted to be nice and serve her a bowl of soup, and she threw it right at me! She's trying to burn me alive!" My mother waved her hands frantically in panic. "No... it wasn't... she did it..." Smack! Arthur delivered a brutal backhand across my mother's face. "Claire, I am so incredibly disappointed in you." He pointed a shaking finger at my mother. "Maya goes out of her way to take care of you out of the goodness of her heart. If you don't appreciate it, fine, but to resort to such vicious violence? Have you completely lost every shred of human decency?" I stepped in front of my mother, shielding her. "Mr. Sterling, there's something not right here. The Mrs. was standing perfectly still the entire time. It was Miss Maya who intentionally..." "Do you think you have the right to speak here?!" Arthur cut me off with icy venom. "Since this house can no longer tolerate your presence, for everyone's safety, and so you can receive better psychiatric care..." Arthur turned back to my mother, his eyes completely devoid of warmth. "I'll have you sent to the Serenity Grove Sanitarium tomorrow." Arthur straightened his cuffs. "Oh, right. Tomorrow, I'll be hosting a small, charitable farewell gathering right here. I'm inviting the media, our friends, and our family to witness it." The corner of his mouth curled into a chilling smirk. "I want everyone to know exactly how heartbroken I am to part with you, and how I had absolutely no other choice but to send you away." "Claire, you'll cooperate with me... won't you?" 4 The farewell gathering was a massive, extravagant affair. Arthur had invited local news crews. The garden was overflowing with extravagant floral arrangements and towers of champagne. The guests mingled, clinking glasses. "Arthur really is a saint. Dealing with a wife like that and still never abandoning her." "If it were me, I would have lost it ages ago. The fact that he's still willing to pay to send her to a private sanitarium... he's done more than his fair share." I stood on the fringes of the crowd, the voice recorder in my pocket practically burning a hole in my uniform. Maya strutted around playing the perfect hostess, weaving through the guests wearing my mother's designer gown. Buddy, dressed in a tiny tailored suit, stood obediently by Arthur's side. Arthur wheeled my mother out. The woman in the wheelchair had been dressed in a floral sundress and wore heavy makeup. Heavily sedated, my mother sat slumped in the chair like a lifeless marionette. A thick strip of medical tape was plastered over her mouth. A spotlight hit Arthur. Tears pooled in his eyes as he rested a hand gently on the handles of the wheelchair. "Friends, family... thank you all so much for coming today." "For the past ten years, I've prayed every single day for a miracle. Prayed that Claire would get better. Prayed that our little girl, who was taken from us, would find her way back home..." Several guests in the audience discreetly wiped away tears. "But reality is cruel. Claire's condition has only deteriorated, to the point where she has become violent toward the people who love her." "To protect her from hurting herself, and to bring some peace back to our home, I am forced to make this agonizing decision." Arthur took a deep, shaky breath. "I have decided to send Claire to a fully enclosed, intensive treatment facility. I never wanted to give up on her, but for her own safety... I have to let her go..." Thunderous applause erupted across the garden. "Arthur is an absolute saint!" "So moving! This is what true love looks like!" Soaking in the adoration, Arthur bowed deeply, then turned to push the wheelchair toward the white van stamped with "Serenity Grove Sanitarium." Maya shot me a highly provocative, triumphant smirk. I adjusted the collar of my caregiver uniform, took a deep breath, and began walking up the steps, one by one. The exact moment Arthur's hand reached for the wheelchair, I stepped in front of him, blocking his path. The applause died instantly. Every single pair of eyes in the garden turned to stare at me, the lowly caregiver. Arthur frowned, annoyance flashing in his eyes. "Miss, I know you've grown attached to Claire, and I appreciate your hard work these past few days. Please step aside. We can't afford to miss the admission window." He shot a subtle look, and two massive bodyguards immediately moved in. "Miss, please step back. Do you want to go to jail for causing a disturbance? Don't force our hand." I stared right into Arthur's perfectly manicured face. "Mr. Sterling, an admission window?" I let out a cold, mocking laugh. My voice, amplified by the microphone near the podium, boomed across the entire estate. "Are you sending her to get treatment, or are you sending her to be slaughtered?" The crowd gasped in shock. Arthur's face turned black with rage. "Drag her out of here! The woman has lost her mind!" The bodyguards lunged forward to grab me. I spun around swiftly and violently ripped the medical tape right off my mother's mouth. The loud rrrip was sickeningly sharp. My mother gasped for air, looking around in sheer terror. "Mom, don't be afraid." I patted her hand reassuringly, then turned to face Arthur and the wall of cameras. I raised my right arm and shoved my long sleeve up past my elbow. On the inside of my wrist, a bright red, butterfly-shaped birthmark was glaringly obvious in the sunlight. The exact moment Arthur saw that birthmark, his entire body froze solid. The mask of the dignified, grieving husband completely shattered. I took a slow, deliberate step toward him, making sure I could see my own reflection in his widening eyes. I stared dead into his pupils and enunciated every single word perfectly: "Dad. It's been ten years. Do you really not recognize your own biological daughter anymore?"
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