Chapter 3 Dad’s Call
759 Words
The following morning, my mother received a phone call. The moment she answered, her voice softened immediately.
"Hey, honey. How's the business trip going?"
My father's warm voice came through the speaker. "Pretty well. I just miss you girls. How's Hanny adjusting after coming home?"
My mother glanced casually in my direction, smiling faintly. "She's doing wonderfully now. Much more obedient than before. No more tantrums either. She even studies together with Chloe now."
As she spoke, she raised her phone and snapped a picture of me sitting beside Chloe while she did homework.
"Look at them," she said sweetly. "The sisters are getting along so well."
The moment Chloe heard my father's voice, she immediately threw down her pencil and rushed over. "Daddy! I miss you so much! When are you coming home?"
He laughed warmly on the other end of the line. "My sweet girl. Daddy misses you too. I'll be home in another week. I'll bring presents back for both you and your sister."
My mother handed the phone toward me. "Say hello to your father."
"Hi, Dad." My voice came out flat and emotionless, like a machine reading lines from a script.
My father paused immediately. "Is Hanny okay?" Concern crept into his tone. "She looks pale. Is she sick?"
My mother smoothly pulled the phone back before I could say anything else. "She just caught a slight cold because she didn't cover herself properly last night," she lied effortlessly. "I already gave her medicine. She'll be fine in a couple of days."
"That's good," my father said with relief. "Take good care of the girls. Don't let them get sick."
"I know." My mother smiled softly into the phone. "You should worry about yourself instead. Don't overwork."
But the moment the call ended, the warmth vanished from her face completely. She looked at me coldly.
"The next time your father calls, try looking less dead." Her voice turned sharp with warning. "Don't you dare make that face again."
"I understand."
After the phone call with my father, Chloe's malice toward me became even more blatant. Every day, she found new ways to torment me.
She ripped pages out of my textbooks and scattered them across the floor. She threw my stationery into the trash, then deliberately stepped on it in front of me.
Whenever my mother saw it happen, she would only respond mildly, "Chloe is still young. She doesn't know any better. You're the older sister. Clean it up yourself."
So I obeyed. I crouched down and picked up the torn pages one by one. I dug my stationery out of the trash and carefully wiped it clean.
The paper edges sliced open my fingers. Blood dripped steadily onto the floor. I felt nothing.
I simply continued cleaning in silence until everything had been restored neatly to its place before returning to my desk and sitting down again.
Day after day passed like that.
I remained the same lifeless puppet, moving only when commanded. Whenever my mother gave no instructions, I would stay frozen in place for hours at a time, so still that even my breathing became faint enough to seem nonexistent.
One night, Martha got up to use the bathroom and happened to see me standing motionless in my room, wide awake in the darkness like a statue that had forgotten how to sleep.
The next morning, she nervously approached my mother.
"Something's wrong with Hanny lately," she said cautiously. "She barely speaks anymore. She hardly moves. She doesn't even sleep at night. She just stands there staring into space. Could something have gone wrong with the modification?"
My mother was seated at her vanity doing her makeup. She didn't even look up.
"That's exactly what she's supposed to be like after modification," she replied indifferently. "Quiet. Obedient. It saves me a lot of trouble."
Then her tone turned colder. "Stop worrying about things that don't concern you. Just do your job, and don't start giving her extra attention. Understood?"
Martha let out a quiet sigh. Though she clearly wanted to say more, she didn't dare. In the end, she lowered her head and left silently.
That evening at dinner, I sat at the table chewing mechanically on the cold greens in my bowl, every movement stiff and unnaturally rigid.
Suddenly, my mother issued another command. "Get up early tomorrow and accompany Chloe to her piano lesson. Do you hear me?"
"I hear you." I nodded mechanically and continued chewing.
No one noticed that my fingernails had already begun turning bluish-purple.
- Writer
