My dad’s secretary accused me of knocking over her expensive perfume. Dad’s face was cold. "Since the kid messed up, let the mother take the punishment." He shoved my mom into the giant porcelain jar in the corner of the living room. I stood on my tiptoes, trying to reach the rim, but it was too high. From inside, I heard Mom humming softly, just like she used to when she tucked me in. I cried, slapping the cold ceramic. "Mommy! Cici can't reach you! Cici is sorry!" "Your mom isn't coming out to play the victim herself, so she taught you to use a sob story?" Dad sneered. "Fine. Let her stay in there a few more days!" Dad and his secretary laughed in the living room, their glasses clinking together. Ding-ding-dang-dang. It sounded like Mom’s wind chimes. The humming inside the jar got quieter and quieter until all that was left was the sound of dripping. Drip. Drip. Three days later, the police smashed the jar open. Everyone recoiled in horror. Dad walked in, his arm around his secretary's waist. Her belly was round, like she’d swallowed a beach ball. "Where's your mother? Still playing the victim?" Dad asked. I looked down at the red puddle at the bottom of the shattered jar and whispered: "Daddy, Mommy broke." 1 When Grandma and Grandpa came knocking, I was on my knees with a rag, trying to wipe up the red water seeping from the bottom of the jar. Grandma covered her nose. "Cici, where are your parents? Why does it smell so bad in here?" I pointed a small finger at the giant porcelain jar. "Mommy is sleeping in there." Grandpa’s face turned gray. He walked over, but the moment his hand touched the rim, he yanked it back like he’d been burned. "This jar..." Grandpa’s voice trembled. Grandma snatched me up, her nails digging into my arm. "Who put your mother in there?" "Daddy," I mumbled, staring at my shoes. "He said Cici was bad, so Mommy had to take responsibility." Grandpa grabbed a crowbar to pry the lid off. The screws popped one by one—snap, snap—sounding just like when Mom used to unwrap candy for me. When the lid finally came off, Grandma screamed and stumbled backward. I stood on my tiptoes to peek inside. Mom was curled up at the bottom, soaked through, like a ragdoll left out in the rain. Her white dress had turned pink. Her fingers were pruned and wrinkled, and her nails were packed with porcelain shards. "Why isn't Mommy waking up?" I reached out to touch her. Grandma slapped my hand away and pulled me into a crushing hug. Her heart was beating so fast it hurt my ears. "Oh God... oh God..." Grandpa fell to his knees, retching over the side of the jar. When the police officers arrived, they covered Mom with a white sheet. They asked me questions, but I just stared at the red stain left at the bottom of the jar. "When will Mommy dry out?" I asked the nice officer. "Once the water dries, she'll wake up, right?" The officer’s eyes turned red. Grandma, hands shaking, dialed Dad’s number. "You animal! Get your ass back here! Your wife..." Dad’s laughter crackled through the phone. "Mom, cut the act. Is Sarah trying to guilt-trip me into coming back? Tell her playing dead won't work." In the background, I heard the secretary’s whiny voice: "Ken, baby, I want strawberries..." "Your wife is really dead! She's in that jar!" Grandpa snatched the phone and roared. "Dad, why are you playing along with her nonsense?" Dad’s voice turned icy. "There are air holes at the bottom. A couple of days won't kill her. Let her reflect. When she learns to raise our kid right, she can come out." The line went dead. When the coroner tried to take Mom away, I clung to the jar, refusing to let go. "Don't take her!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face. "Mommy just needs to dry out! Last time my doll got wet, Mommy used the hairdryer..." Grandma pried my fingers loose. Her tears fell on my face, hot and stinging. "Cici, baby... Mommy... Mommy went to the sky to be a star." I looked out the window. It wasn't dark yet. No stars. "Then when is she coming home?" No one answered. A police officer picked up a small bottle from the jar. It had a skull and crossbones on the label. "Preliminary assessment suggests a strong alkaline solution caused..." Grandma lunged for the bottle. "It’s that slut! That’s the perfume she sprays every day!" Grandpa held her back, his eyes bloodshot. "Just wait until that animal gets back..." I crouched on the floor, picking up the porcelain shards that had fallen from Mom’s fingernails. One piece, two pieces, three pieces... If I glue them back together, Mommy will come home, right? 2 The night the relatives took Mom away, Dad finally called back. Grandma answered with red, swollen eyes. Before she could speak, Dad’s impatient voice cut through. "Mom, are you done with the drama?" "Your wife is dead!" Grandma’s voice was raspy. "The coroner said she was suffocated and burned alive..." "Enough." Dad cut her off. "I was just joking around. I let her out ages ago. She’s hiding because she’s jealous of Jenny, isn't she?" A woman’s giggle floated through the phone, like nails on a chalkboard. "Ken, is Sarah still mad at me?" Dad’s voice instantly turned tender. "Ignore her. Just throwing a tantrum." I stood on my toes, trying to reach the phone. "Daddy, Mommy melted in the jar. She..." "Shut up!" Dad yelled at me. "Learning to lie at your age? Your mother taught you this!" He hung up. Grandma held me and wept. Her tears hit my neck, hotter than boiling water. The next day, Dad’s secretary, Jenny, showed up. She was wearing Mom’s favorite lavender dress. Her high heels clacked on the floor, sounding like knives scraping bone. "Ken sent me to get some files." She smiled and touched my head. "Cici, you've grown." I hid behind Grandma. This lady smelled sweet, exactly like the smell that drifted out of the jar at the end. Grandma blocked the bedroom door. "Get out!" Jenny didn't get mad. Instead, she pulled a fancy candy box from her bag. "Cici, your daddy asked me to give this to you." Inside were colorful star-shaped candies, just like the ones Mom used to buy. "When is Daddy coming home?" I whispered. "When your mommy admits she was wrong." She crouched down, her perfume overwhelming me. "Cici, do you want a little brother?" Grandma slapped the candy box out of her hand and shoved Jenny toward the door. "Monster! You pair of monsters!" That night, Dad called again. "Mom, send Cici over to stay for a few days." His voice was cold. "I need to personally teach her what honesty means." Grandma hugged me tight. "Over my dead body!" "Don't force my hand." Dad paused. "Don't forget, the deed to the old house is in my name." After the call, Grandma wouldn't stop shaking. She stroked my face. "Cici, don't be scared. Grandma is here." But I knew Grandma was terrified. When she packed my bag, her hands shook so bad she couldn't even button my shirt. The next morning, Dad sent people to pick me up. They locked Grandma in her room so she couldn't follow. In the black sedan, Jenny hugged me a little too tightly. "Cici, you're going to have a little brother soon. Aren't you happy?" I fiddled with the hem of my dress. "When is Mommy coming home?" "Your mommy doesn't want you anymore." She whispered in my ear. "She ran off with another man. That’s why she made you lie about the jar." The car pulled up to a big, beautiful house. Dad stood at the door, his gaze colder than the winter wind. "Do you know what you did wrong?" he asked. I shook my head. "Mommy really melted in the jar." Dad’s face turned scary. He dragged me to the basement, with Jenny giggling behind us. The basement was filled with glass cases containing preserved animals. "Do you know why they're here?" Dad pointed to a white rabbit specimen. "Because they loved to lie." Jenny handed him a syringe. "Ken, kids need discipline. One shot and she'll behave." I scrambled backward, my back hitting the cold glass case. "Last chance," Dad said, watching Jenny raise the needle. "Where is your mother?" "In the jar..." My tears hit the floor. "Mommy really melted in the jar..." As the needle pierced my skin, I saw Jenny rubbing her belly, smiling at me. "When your little brother is born, we'll let your mommy come back, okay?" But Grandma said Mommy wasn't coming back. 3 The moment the liquid from the syringe entered my vein, my eyelids felt heavy as lead. Dad carried me to the sofa, gently combing my hair with his fingers. He hadn't touched me like this in a long time. The last time was when I had a fever; Mom held me all night while Dad sat by the bed reading stories. "Cici, be a good girl. Just sleep, and it'll be okay." His voice was gentle, like the old Daddy. I fought to keep my eyes open. "Daddy... Mommy really..." His fingers suddenly clamped onto my jaw. "Still lying?" Dad’s smile vanished instantly. "Where is she hiding? Did she teach you to say these lies?" It hurt so much I cried, but I didn't dare make a sound. Dad hated crying. Jenny walked over with warm milk. "Ken, don't be mad. Kids need patience." She held the milk to my lips. The sweet, cloying smell reminded me of the scent drifting from the jar. I clamped my mouth shut. Milk spilled onto my pajamas, hot and sticky against my skin. "Disobedient!" Dad suddenly grabbed my left hand and slammed it onto the coffee table. "Which hand knocked over the perfume? This one?" Click. His lighter flared. The blue flame licked my fingertips. I screamed in agony, but Dad clamped his hand over my mouth. His palm smelled faintly of tobacco. I used to love that smell. "Shhh..." He whispered in my ear. "Cici is brave, right? It’s just a burn. Better than the lies your mother taught you." Jenny giggled nearby. "Ken, you're so strict." My finger bubbled up, like the skin on the porridge Mom used to make when it cooled down. Dad let go and pulled a velvet box from the drawer. "I was going to give this to you for your birthday." He opened it to reveal a silver bracelet. "But you can have it early." I curled into the corner of the sofa, terrified to move. "Hand." Dad commanded. When he snapped the bracelet on, pain shot through me. The inside was lined with tiny steel spikes. With every pulse of my wrist, they dug deeper into my flesh. "I had this custom-made." He stroked my face. "Every time you lie, it digs deeper." Drops of blood trickled down the silver chain, blooming like small red flowers on the beige sofa. Jenny frowned suddenly. "Ken, she doesn't look right..." Dad finally noticed my lips were turning purple. He ripped open my collar. The area around the injection site had turned a terrifying grey-blue. "What did you give her?" Dad roared, grabbing Jenny by the collar. "J-Just a normal sedative..." Jenny’s face went pale. "Maybe... maybe it reacted with the milk..." As Dad scooped me up and ran out the door, I heard Jenny screaming, "Ken! My baby..." The emergency room lights were blinding. The doctor said ten more minutes and my heart would have stopped. Dad held my hand the whole time. His hand was shaking. "Cici, Daddy didn't mean to." His eyes were red. "Just admit you lied, and Daddy will take you home right now." I stared at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. They looked like Mom’s eyes in the end. "Daddy..." I whispered. "When Mommy was in the jar... did it hurt this much too?" His hand went limp. 4 The hospital smelled like harsh chemicals. Dad sat by the bed peeling an apple. The skin spiraled down in one long strip, like the scarves Mom used to knit for me. "Cici," he sliced the apple into small chunks. "When your brother is born, Daddy will let your mom take care of him..." I stared at the IV needle in the back of my hand. "Mommy doesn't want a brother." "Nonsense!" Dad pinched my chin. "Why are you such a liar now? Did she ruin you that much?" Before he could finish, the door swung open. Two police officers walked in. One was holding a clear evidence bag containing the perfume bottle Grandma found in the jar. "Mr. Sterling, we need to talk." The officer’s face was grim. "About your wife's death." Dad froze, unable to process it. "What?" The officer placed a tablet on the bedside table. On the screen was a paused video. The date stamp was the night Mom was put in the jar. In the video, Jenny was sneaking around the jar, pouring something from the perfume bottle into the air holes. "According to the coroner's report," the officer pointed at the screen, "The deceased had traces of strong alkaline corrosion in her trachea, consistent with the contents of this bottle." The officer pulled out another bag containing shreds of lavender fabric found in Mom’s grip. "Fibers found under the victim's fingernails match the brand frequently worn by the suspect." Dad laughed abruptly. A manic sound. "Ridiculous! How much did Sarah pay you? Even the cops are in on her skit?" He snatched the tablet and smashed it on the floor. The screen spiderwebbed. Dad spun around and pointed a shaking finger at me. "Did your mom put you up to this? Using the police to scare me?" His eyes were terrifyingly red, like a cornered beast. The officer stepped between us. "The child needs rest. Please come to the station to assist with the investigation." "Assist my ass!" Dad loosened his tie. "I'm going to find Sarah right now and show you all who the liar is!" He stormed out, nearly colliding with Jenny, who was running in panicked. "Ken! Why are they looking for me..." She froze when she saw the police. The officer flashed his badge. "Ms. Jenny Miller, please come with us." Jenny went white. She grabbed Dad’s arm. "Ken! I'm carrying your son!" Dad instinctively comforted her. "Don't be scared. I'll find that woman!" The room fell silent. I looked out the window at a passing cloud. Mom said when people die, they become clouds. The officer crouched down and gently held my bandaged hand. "Cici, your mom..." "I know," I pointed at the cloud. "Mommy is right there." The officer’s eyes welled up. He patted my head and pulled a phone from his briefcase. "We found this at the bottom of the jar. It was your mom's." The screen was cracked, but it still lit up. The wallpaper was a photo of Mom and me. She was hugging me, smiling so gently. The officer opened the call log. The last call was to Dad. Duration: 3 minutes and 27 seconds. It was the night she was put in the jar. I suddenly remembered the humming and the dripping sounds from the jar. That wasn't Mom singing. That was the sound coming from Dad’s phone after he answered—Jenny’s giggles and their intimate noises, playing through the speaker into the jar. The officer opened the messages. The last text sent to Dad: [The air holes are blocked. Help me.] Sent: 2:17 AM. Unread. No reply. Dad snatched the phone. Staring at the message, his eyes looked like they were going to bleed. His face drained of all color. He nearly collapsed. "No, this is impossible..."
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