Mom, I’m No Liar

My mother called me a liar from birth, all because of her belief in scientific parenting. From the day my twin sister Mina and I were born, she fastened Honesty Bracelets to our wrists. Lie, and it flashed redtriggering an electric shock from Moms remote.

Mina's bracelet always stayed green. Even when she tore Moms dress and blamed the cat, it glowed gently.

But me? If I whispered, "Mom, I'm hungry," it turned furious red, and pain shot through my arm.

At first, I argued. Mom said, "The machine doesnt lie. The pain will help you remember."

After thousands of shocks, I believed it: I was born a liar.

On New Years Eve, as Mom prepared to take Mina to see fireworks, searing pain tore through my stomach. I collapsed, gasping, "Mom, my stomach it hurts so much. Help me."

But my bracelet flashed frantic red.

Mom looked down at me, my hair wet with cold sweat, and turned the remote to its highest setting.

"Youd fake being sick just to see the fireworks?" she said, disappointed. "You never learn."

She walked out with Mina, the door slamming behind them.

I thought, Mom must be right. The bracelet is red, so I cant really be in pain. I must be lying for attention.

Im sorry, Mom. Next time, Ill try to be honest.

"It hurts"

My body convulsed with pain, my fingernails scratching white lines into the hardwood floor.

The doorknob turned.

A spark of hope ignited in my chest.

Mom was back.

She's a doctor. She must have realized something was wrong. She came back to save me.

"Are you done with your tantrum? The fireworks are about to start, and Minas getting impatient."

"Mom," I whispered, my voice barely audible, stretching a trembling hand toward the door. "It really, really hurts. It feels like my insides are tearing apart."

She glanced at the frantic red light on my wrist.

She knelt, her fingers digging into my chin, forcing my head up. Her voice was laced with fury.

"Audrey, when are you going to stop this act?"

"You're pathologically incapable of telling the truth. You can stay in here and think about what you've done!"

Dad called from the entryway. "Honey, let's go, the show's starting. If Audrey doesn't want to come, she doesn't have to. Should we leave her some dinner?"

Mom stood up, brushing her hands together as if she'd touched something filthy.

"Leave her dinner? For what?"

"There's a whole stash of junk food in her closet. She bought it with the money she stole last week. She won't starve."

"Lock the door. She can come out when that bracelet turns green."

"But" Dad hesitated.

"But what? Spare the rod, spoil the child! Look at Minaso honest her bracelet is always green."

"Audrey is rotten to the core. She needs to be corrected!"

But my closet was empty.

Mina was the one who took the money. Mina was the one who ate the snacks.

She had just stood there, her bracelet glowing a soft, innocent green, and said, "It wasn't me."

And Mom believed her.

When I tried to say I didn't take it either, the red light flared, and the electricity came.

I watched Mom turn to leave.

Mina peeked through the crack in the door and made a face at me.

"Bye-bye, Audrey! We're off to see the pretty fireworks!"

Her bracelet, a steady, verdant green. It was beautiful.

Thump.

The door slammed shut. I heard the deadbolt slide into place.

The house fell silent.

It was just me and the saw blade working its way through my gut.

It hurts so much.

But Mom was right. The machine doesn't lie.

The bracelet is red, so I must be lying.

I'm not in pain.

I'm really, truly not in pain.

Tears streamed down my face as I tried to hypnotize myself.

I don't know how long passed, but the pain actually seemed to fade.

With the last ounce of my strength, I crawled toward my desk.

I had to write an apology. That was the rule.

Whenever the red light came on, I had to write "I am a liar" five hundred times.

If I finished, maybe Mom would forgive me? Maybe she'd take me to the hospital?

My hand shook as I opened the crumpled, worn-out notebook.

It was already filled, page after page, with my previous apologies.

Usually, I wrote, "I'm sorry, I was wrong, I won't lie anymore."

But this time, I wanted to write the truth.

My vision blurred. Crying, I used the last of my energy to scrawl:

"Mom, I really do love you."

"It hurts so much. Why won't you just believe me?"

"Please, Mom. Just believe me this one time."

As I finished the last word, the agony in my stomach suddenly vanished.

In its place was a lightness I'd never felt before.

My body felt weightless. I was floating.

I looked down and saw myself slumped over the desk, one arm hanging limply in the air, motionless.

The bracelet on my wrist was still flashing a frantic, desperate red.

So, I was dead. But I still hadn't learned how to be an honest girl. I'm sorry, Mom.

I was awakened by the sound of laughter.

It was Mom, Dad, and Mina.

"The fireworks were beautiful tonight! Especially that one shaped like a smiley face. Just as cute as my Mina!"

Mom's voice held a tenderness I had never heard directed at me.

I floated in mid-air, watching as the front door opened.

Even as a spirit, my first instinct was to drift toward them, to help them with their slippers as I always did.

It was a survival instinct, a deeply ingrained need to please.

"Mom."

I opened my arms, wanting to hug the woman who brought the winter chill in with her.

"I'm not in pain anymore. I'll be good from now on. Please don't be mad."

But my hands passed right through her body, like smoke.

Mom shivered, frowning. "Why is it so chilly in here? Is the heat off?"

I froze, staring at my translucent hands.

Right. I was dead.

The dead can't hug the living.

"We should probably check on Audrey," Dad mentioned casually. "She didn't come out for dinner. I hope she's not too hungry."

My Dad. He still cared.

I looked at Mom expectantly.

If she found out I was dead, would she be sad? Would she feel any regret?

Mom just scoffed, slipping on her house shoes and striding toward my room.

"Let her starve. It's what she deserves. That nasty habit of faking sickness for attention? It's because we've been too soft on her."

She shoved my door open.

She didn't turn on the light.

In the dim glow from the living room, she could see "me" slumped over the desk.

Motionless, as if I were asleep.

"Well, look at you," Mom said, crossing her arms, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You think if you pretend to be pitiful, I'll carry you to bed?"

"You're ten years old, Audrey, not five!"

I floated beside my own body, screaming silently.

"Mom! I'm not pretending! I'm dead! Just look at me!"

"Touch me! My body is cold!"

But she couldn't hear me.

She only believed what she could see.

Mina squeezed past her, holding up her wrist triumphantly.

"Audrey is a lazybones! See, my bracelet is green, and hers is still red!"

"She's even lying in her dreams!"

Mom stroked Mina's hair. "That's because you're my good girl. Don't pay any attention to the liar. Let her sleep it off. She can stay there all night for all I care."

Dad peeked in from behind her. "Maybe we should put her to bed? It's cold tonight."

"Put her to bed?" Mom snapped. "Absolutely not."

"Kids today are spoiled rotten."

"The parenting experts say you have to use the cold shoulder method in these situations. She has to realize her own mistake."

"Look at that red light. It means her psychological state is still 'extremely defiant.' She hasn't reflected on her actions at all!"

"That's enough. Let's go to bed. We have to go to your Grandma's tomorrow for New Year's Day."

Mom turned on her heel, pulling the door closed behind her.

Click.

The lock engaged.

I floated beside my corpse, watching that single point of crimson light in the darkness. The despair in my soul was colder than death itself.

Mom, if you had just taken one more step, if you had just touched my hand, you would have known I was already cold.

But you didn't. You only trust that cold machine, not the daughter you carried for nine months.

Late that night, a mouse scurried out from my empty closet.

I used to be terrified of mice. I would scream every time I saw one.

But now, I could only float at the ceiling, watching as it scurried brazenly across my corpse.

"Go away," I tried to say, but no sound came out.

The mouse gnawed at my toe, drawing a single bead of purplish-black blood.

I couldn't feel it anymore.

That was nice.

Finally, no more pain.

I whispered to the pathetic shell below me.

"Don't be scared. You can't feel a thing anymore."

"It'll all be over soon."

The next morning, the winter sun streamed through my window, but it brought no warmth to my corpse.

The clatter of pots and pans echoed from the kitchen.

Mom was making breakfast.

The smell of frying eggs wafted under my door.

Normally, it was the most tantalizing smell in the world.

But I was only allowed to eat boiled vegetables, because Mom said liars didn't deserve to eat meat.

Today, she was deliberately banging the spatula against the pan.

I knew she was trying to tempt me.

She wanted the smell to drive me crazy, to make me crawl out of my room and beg for forgiveness.

The old me might have done it. For a single fried egg, I would have confessed to crimes I never committed.

But now, I didn't need to eat anymore.

"Audrey still hasn't come out?" Dad asked, reading the newspaper at the dining table.

"Nope. Stubborn as a mule," Mom said, slamming a plate down on the table.

"She's spoiled rotten. If she wants to eat, she'll eat. If not, she can starve."

Mina, sipping her milk, let her eyes dart around.

She deliberately ran to my bedroom door and took a loud, exaggerated sniff.

Then she shrieked, "Mommy! Audrey's room stinks!"

"Did she go to the bathroom in there?"

I floated by the door, watching my sister with a bitter ache.

The heat was on so high. In just one night, I had started to smell. Mom was going to hate me even more now.

Mom marched over, her brow furrowed in disgust.

"Audrey!" she yelled, pounding on the door.

"Are you a pig? The bathroom is right next door, are your legs broken? You actually soiled your own room?"

"You are hopeless! You'd rather live in your own filth than admit you were wrong?"

I remembered when I was little.

I had a bad stomach flu once and didn't make it to the toilet in time.

Not only did Mom not help me clean up, she made me stand in the yard as a punishment for everyone to see.

She pointed at me and told the neighbors, "Look at this one. Dirty as a little pig."

And now, she thought I was dirty again.

"Forget her!" Mom waved her hand dismissively, as if shooing a fly.

"Let her stew in her own stink! See how she likes it!"

Dad put down his paper, his frown deepening.

"The smell is getting pretty bad. I'll go check. Maybe a mouse died in there or something."

He stood up and started walking toward my room.

My spirit heart leaped.

Dad!

Open the door!

Please, look at me!

I'm right behind the door!

Just turn the handle, and you'll see that I'm not moving! You'll see my face has already started to turn black!

I floated right in front of him, waving my arms frantically, trying to get his attention.

His hand closed around the doorknob.

Ring-ring-ring!

The shrill ring of his phone cut through the tension. It was his boss.

Dad answered, and his face paled. "What? The main server crashed? Okay, okay, I'm on my way!"

He hung up and grabbed his coat in a panic. "Honey, it's an emergency at work. I have to go now, I might not be back for a few days!"

"Wait, what about Audr" Mom started to say, but he was already out the door.

I was stunned.

So close.

Just one second.

If that call had come one second later, I would have been found.

Maybe then, my body wouldn't have to keep rotting here.

That afternoon, Mom took Mina shopping. My corpse was left alone in the house.

They returned that evening, their arms full of shopping bags filled with expensive seafood and gifts.

The moment they walked in, the smell hit them like a physical blow.

Mom gagged, covering her nose. "Audrey! Are you trying to turn this house into a garbage dump?"

She wouldn't even open the door to yell at me, as if a single glance into my room would contaminate her.

She found a roll of heavy-duty duct tape, knelt down, and viciously sealed the crack at the bottom of my door.

"If you love the stench so much, you can suffocate in it! Just don't let it bother the rest of us!"

After applying the last strip, Mom stood and dusted off her hands, satisfied.

"There. Peace and quiet."

She went to the kitchen to steam the lobster.

I looked at the sealed door, and the last flicker of hope in my soul was extinguished along with the flow of air.

I finally understood. In my mother's heart, my life or death was less important than a seafood dinner.

She would rather seal me away than open the door to see if I was dead inside.

You win, Mom.

I'll never bother you again.

On the morning of the third day, the warm winter sun filled the living room, but it couldn't chase away the gloom that had settled over our home.

The central heating was cranked up to a sweltering twenty-six degrees.

The duct tape was no longer enough.

A cloying, greasy stench of decay now permeated the entire house.

Mom was arranging a bouquet of fresh flowers, but no matter how strong their perfume, the smell of my rotting body overpowered it.

Snip!

She violently decapitated a rose, a thorn pricking her finger.

She had reached her limit.

In her mind, I wasn't bathing, I was using my room as a toilet, maybe even hiding dead rats in thereall to disgust her, to defy her authority.

"Audrey, you've really crossed the line this time!"

Mom stormed into the kitchen, grabbed a rolling pin, and marched toward my room, her face a mask of fury.

"I'm going to beat the filth out of you today!"

"It's clear the shocks aren't working anymore. You need to learn a lesson you can feel on your skin!"

I floated in front of her, looking at her contorted face, waving my hands frantically to stop her.

"Don't go in! Mom, please, don't! I'm hideous! I've started to rot! You'll be scared!"

Even though she didn't love me, I didn't want her to see me in such a horrific state.

But she passed right through my soul and ripped the tape from the doorframe.

Screech!

The sound of the tearing tape was deafening.

She jammed the spare key into the lock and twisted.

Bang!

The door flew open with violent force.

A thick, almost tangible wave of putrefaction rolled out, as if from Pandora's box. Mom staggered back, bending over and dry-heaving.

"UghAudrey! What in God's name have you done!"

She looked up and saw me, still in the same position I'd been in three days ago, slumped over my desk, my back to her, perfectly still.

To her, this was an act of silent defiance. The ultimate arrogance.

"Are you deaf? I'm talking to you! Are you still playing dead?"

Blinded by rage, she charged forward, raising the rolling pin high above her head.

But she didn't strike immediately. She wanted to haul me up first, to see the look on my "stubborn" face.

"Get up!"

Her hand shot out and grabbed the collar of my pajamas, her fingers closing around the back of my neck.

And then, she froze.

The moment her skin made contact with mine.

Time seemed to stop.

Through the thin fabric of my pajamas, her fingers didn't feel the warmth of living skin.

Or the softness of flesh.

What she felt was a piece of meat as cold and hard as a block of ice.

It was a deathly cold, a cold that seeped into her bones.

A cold utterly devoid of life.

"Huh?"

Mom faltered for a second.

But her momentum carried her forward.

She yanked with all her might, and my body was pulled backward.

The chair tipped over with me.

CRASH!

The chair slammed onto the floor with a deafening bang.

My body, stiff as a statue, fell with it.

And my face, at last, was revealed.