Chapter 4

Just then, Dad's call rang through Mom's phone.

"Eleanor! Lily just woke up and she’s crying for you. Did you check on Hazel?"

Mom hesitated for two seconds, then let go of the doorknob.

"We’ll deal with Hazel after the final prayer," she said to the phone, turning on her heel and walking away.

Inside the pantry, my lifeless body was propped against the door, one hand still frozen in a claw-like shape, as if trying to knock.

Floating in the air, I watched her retreating back in absolute despair.

*Mom, you were just one step away.*

*If you had just pushed the door open, you would have found my corpse.*

That night.

Knowing I was still locked up, Dad waited until Mom fell into a deep sleep, then crept downstairs to the pantry door.

He whispered through the wood.

"Hazel, I hid the spare key under the welcome mat by the front door. Grab it and get yourself something to eat!"

"I left some chicken soup on the kitchen counter for you. I know your stomach is sensitive, so make sure to microwave it first!"

Dad always remembered.

He knew I had chronic gastritis.

Over the years, whenever Mom locked me in my room or the pantry, Dad would sneak food to me when she wasn't looking.

He had even bought me a giant plush teddy bear and placed it in the pantry.

Inside the bear's zippered belly, he would hide packets of Oreos and crackers.

I floated over and looked at the plush bear.

Its belly was bulging.

Dad had stuffed it with cookies again.

*But I’m so sorry, Dad.*

*I can’t eat them anymore.*

The next morning.

Dad woke up and immediately checked his phone.

There was no reply to the text messages he had sent me.

Panicking, he found Mom in the kitchen.

"I texted Hazel about the key, but she hasn't replied. What if she passed out from starvation?"

"Don't you have the security camera app linked to the pantry nanny-cam? Open it! Let me see how she is!"

Mom rolled her eyes.

"She’s playing mind games with you, David. She wants you to break the rules so she can bring the bad luck back to Lily."

Still, she pulled out her iPhone.

She tapped the security app.

The live stream of the pantry loaded on the screen.

In the video, my back was turned toward the camera.

Dad shoved his face close to the screen.

"Hazel! The key is under the mat! There’s warm soup in the kitchen, please eat something. Don't starve yourself!"

No response.

Mom frowned.

"Hazel, if you’ve learned your lesson, just open the door and eat. Stop worrying your father."

But the figure on the screen remained completely motionless.

Dad’s voice began to crack with terror.

"Hazel? Are you sick? Please, just turn around and look at me. Just let me see your face!"

Mom’s expression shifted slightly.

She pinched the screen to zoom in.

In the dim, grainy night-vision feed, I was curled up in the corner.

My body was bent tight, like a dead shrimp.

Mom stared at the image for a few seconds.

Then, she let out a cold, mocking laugh.

"Another one of her tantrums. She loves playing the victim."

When I was younger, I used to curl up like that to get her attention when she ignored me.

She thought I was doing it again.

"Hazel, we told you where the key is. If you want to act like a civilized human being, get out of there and eat! Stop trying to ruin your sister's blessing!"

Mom locked her phone and tossed it onto the granite island.

I let out a bitter, silent laugh.