Chapter 3

Dad's tone was full of disgusted disappointment.

"I told her—Raven was teaching her to break free from the cage of test-based education."

"And what did she do? She didn't appreciate it at all. She even dared give us attitude."

Raven giggled.

"Dad, that's called learned helplessness. Low-IQ people respond to stimuli beyond their comprehension by regressing."

"I was just helping her broaden her emotional threshold."

Mom stroked Raven's head affectionately.

"Our Raven really is a genius. So young, and she already knows so much."

She turned to look at my bedroom door, her expression turning cold.

"If only Shelly were half as smart as you two—I'd laugh myself awake from my dreams."

I drifted over to my bedroom door and peered through the wood.

My body lay quietly beside the bed.

My eyes were fixed in the direction of the door crack, my hand still tightly gripping the tampered asthma inhaler.

"Lance, the subject's heart rate is showing a flat line. Could the monitor bracelet be broken?"

Raven poked at the tablet screen.

Lance walked over and glanced at the data.

"Impossible. I modified that medical-grade sensor myself."

His voice was firm.

"She must have taken it off and thrown it aside. A childish attempt to get our attention."

Dad shook his head.

"That kid puts all her cleverness into pointless things."

"Ignore her. When she gets hungry enough, she'll crawl out and apologize."

Mom yawned and stood up to clear the leftovers from the table.

"Alright, everyone get some rest. Lance has an awards ceremony to attend tomorrow."

Late that night, after the dinner ended, Dad sat in the study flipping through an old photo album.

He stared blankly at a picture of me at age five.

In the photo, I was wearing a beautiful princess dress, laughing brightly at the beach.

Back then, I hadn't developed asthma yet. I hadn't been diagnosed as "low cognition" either.

Mom walked in with a cup of warm milk and placed it on the desk.

"What made you dig out these old photos all of a sudden?"

Dad sighed and traced his finger across the picture.

"She was so adorable back then—chasing the waves, calling 'Daddy' over and over."

He frowned.

"Do you think we've been too hard on her?"

Mom's eyes wavered for a moment before hardening again with rational coldness.

"Carter, you're too soft."

She pulled up a chair and sat down.

"We're doing this for her own good. Having geniuses like Lance and Raven around will make her stronger, so society won't chew her up later."

Mom took a sip of milk, her tone matter-of-fact.

"Society is brutal these days. If we don't push her, others will eat her alive."

I floated in the study, listening to this self-righteous theory.

So that's why you let me get locked in an abandoned factory?

That's why you let Raven shred the diploma I stayed up countless nights earning?

Dad seemed convinced and nodded.

"You're right. No pain, no gain."

He closed the album and shoved it into the bottom drawer.

"Once she's done reflecting this time, I'll make it up to her properly."

Just then, soft footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Lance walked past my door holding an infrared thermometer.

He stopped and pointed it at my bedroom door.

[Beep.]

The device let out a soft sound.

Lance looked at the readout and muttered to himself.

"Room temperature dropping. Body surface temperature converging with ambient."

He let out a cold laugh.

"Even deliberately lowering her metabolism. She really knows how to play dead."

I pointed at Lance's face and screamed.

"I'm not playing dead! I'm actually dead!"

But only the empty echo of the hallway answered me.

Lance turned and returned to his room, shutting the door behind him.

Mom sat in the study for a while longer, still feeling uneasy.

"I'll go to the kitchen and squeeze her some orange juice."

"Her asthma flares up easily when she's angry."

Dad reminded her, "Go light on the sugar. She gains weight easily."

Mom carried the juice over to my door.

She raised her hand and knocked.

"Shelly, Mom made you some orange juice."

No movement inside.

My body was already showing early signs of livor mortis. The blood had stopped flowing, the limbs stiff as iron.

"Catch your breath before you drink it. Stop being stubborn."

Mom's voice drifted through the door.

I looked at that glass of juice. The irony was suffocating.

When I was begging for help during my attack, you were all cutting cake.

Mom waited at the door for a minute.

When I didn't respond, her patience ran out.

"Why are you so stubborn, child?"

"We're family. What's wrong with making a little sacrifice?"

She slammed the bowl onto the floor outside the door.

"Drink it or don't! You and your damn attitude!"

Mom stormed off back to the master bedroom.

The hallway fell into dead silence again.

Inside, a few flies had already crawled in through the cracks in the window.

They circled around my nose, buzzing softly.

The next morning, an indescribable odor began drifting through the house.

It was the mix of incontinence and faint decay.

Neighbor Professor Leon happened to drop by to borrow a couple of books.

The moment he walked in, he pinched his nose.

"Carter, what's that smell? Is your plumbing backed up?"

Raven was sitting on the couch eating a sandwich.

"Professor Leon, Lance is running an anaerobic fermentation experiment with organic material. Some of the gas escaped." She smiled innocently.

"He's collecting data for an environmental project."

Professor Leon's face lit up with understanding, and he gave a thumbs-up.

"Carter, those two geniuses of yours are national treasures. So young, fresh out of college, and already working on such advanced research."

Dad smiled awkwardly, but his eyes glowed with vanity.

"Oh please, they're just fooling around."

Professor Leon looked around.

"By the way, where's your eldest, Shelly? I don't see her."

"She's usually on the balcony memorizing vocabulary by this time."

Dad's smile stiffened.

"Shelly isn't feeling well. She's resting in her room."

After Professor Leon left, Lance came out of his room wearing a white lab coat.

He held a powerful flashlight, his expression grave.

"The placebo effect testing has exceeded the allowable time. Preparing to perform pupil-light-stimulation arousal."

He spoke as he walked toward my room.

"Prolonged low-energy state in the subject may cause irreversible brain damage. Forced arousal is necessary."

Mom was mopping the floor. Hearing this, she finally felt something was wrong.

She grabbed Lance.

"Lance, stop it."

"Shelly has asthma. What if you trigger an attack? I'll go get her."

Dad set down his newspaper too.

"Yeah, that's enough. If we keep her locked up any longer, she'll throw another tantrum."

Dad stood up and put on his coat.

"I'll go buy her the newest imported anti-allergy medication, and that big bear plushie she's always wanted."

"We'll just have to coddle her. After all, she IS the dumb one in our family."

I floated in the air, watching Dad hurry out the door.

My tears dissolved into wisps of nothingness.

That giant teddy bear was a gift I'd wanted for my birthday years ago.

I begged them for it over and over.

I had no use for it now.

Raven ignored her parents' decision.

She quietly walked to my door, lay flat on the floor, and peeked through the crack.

"Lance, come look at this."