When They Made Me Perfect

I used to be the most cherished child in my family.

Until my brother was born, and every single one of my out of line behaviors became threats to him.

On my brother's first birthday, I spent an entire month building him a singing castle from over a thousand pieces.

But when I turned it on, the dazzling lights and mechanical sounds scared him into tears.

That night, my father smashed my castle, and my mother slapped me for the first time in my life.

The next day, I was sent to a boarding reform academy that claimed to "reshape lives."

My father looked at me with ice-cold eyes:

"Director Wallace, my daughter has something wrong with her head. I need you to make her 'normal.'"

"As for payment, I'll donate ten million dollars to the academy. Plus, I'll cover all future education expenses for your son."

Three years later, they came to pick me up from the academy.

Seeing me in my rigid white dress, hands folded at my abdomen, walking as if measured by a ruler, they were extremely satisfied.

My father smiled and opened his arms toward me: "Baby, I'm here to take you home."

Instead, I took a step back, bowed in standard form, and recited in a voice devoid of emotion.

"New Life Code, Article Three: Physical contact within three meters with strangers is prohibited unless necessary."

My father's outstretched arms froze in mid-air.

The smile on his face gradually disappeared, leaving only shock.

My mother hurried over, forcefully pulling down his arms, plastering a smile on her face.

"You've learned manners now. That's wonderful."

She tried to take my hand.

I stepped back again, maintaining a three-meter distance from her.

My mother's smile completely froze.

My father's expression darkened, but he still said patiently:

"Nora, stop this. Come home with us."

I didn't move, only stared at them expressionlessly.

After a full minute, I finally nodded.

"Command confirmed: Return home."

I turned and began walking, each step precisely the same distance as the last.

They followed behind me in complete silence.

The car stopped in front of a familiar mansion, but I felt nothing.

They led me into a room.

Pure white walls, pure white bedsheets, a pure white desk.

The room contained only necessities, without any extra decoration.

Like a high-end hospital room.

My father said with a hint of flattery:

"Nora, look, we prepared this new room for you. You always complained your room was messy before. You'll definitely like this one."

I surveyed the room and nodded.

"Meets New Life Code Appendix Two, Environmental Cleanliness Standards."

A muscle in my father's face twitched.

Dinnertime.

I sat at the table, back perfectly straight, hands resting on my knees.

When the meal began, I picked up my fork and only took food from directly in front of me.

The number of times I chewed, when I drank watereverything strictly followed some invisible standard.

My mother watched me, her eyes filled with indescribable heartache.

She placed a piece of roasted meat in my bowl.

"Nora, this used to be your favorite. Try some."

I set down my fork.

Then, right in front of her, I picked out that piece of meat and placed it on an empty plate beside me.

I raised my head, looking at her face that had instantly turned pale, and calmly recited:

"New Life Code, Article Seven: Refuse unrequested offerings to eliminate greed."

"You don't need to follow those ridiculous rules at home!"

My father finally lost his patience and slammed the table with a low roar.

I turned my gaze to him, my eyes without a ripple of emotion.

"The Code is life itself. It cannot be violated."

The air fell deadly silent.

Just then, a little boy in pajamas came toddling over.

He held up a red toy in his hands, presenting it to me.

"Nora, play with me."

It was my brother.

I immediately stood up from my chair and quickly stepped back two paces, creating distance between us.

"New Life Code, Article Nineteen: Contact with addictive entertainment items is prohibited."

My reaction was fast and mechanical.

My four-year-old brother was frightened.

He froze in place, his mouth trembling, then burst into tears.

The piercing cry shattered the quiet of the dining room.

Three years ago, it was also such a cry that made my father smash my castle.

History was repeating itself.

My mother's face instantly became extremely ugly. Without thinking, she shouted at me:

"You again!"

Her voice was shrill, filled with rage.

But when her eyes met my hollow gaze, that fire seemed to be extinguished by a bucket of ice water.

She opened her mouth, but the rest of her scolding wouldn't come out. In its place was a chill rising from the depths of her heart.

My father irritably picked up the crying boy and waved his hand forcefully.

"Enough! Go to your room!"

I didn't argue.

"Command received."

I turned and left the dining room with measured steps, as if walking along a ruler.

Behind me were my brother's endless cries and my parents' increasingly heavy breathing.

They had finally gotten their "perfect" daughter.

A daughter who was absolutely obedient, absolutely well-behaved.

The next day, my father tried to compensate me with material things.

He bought back the latest LEGO model set, containing thousands of pieces.

It was the "Galactic Fortress" I used to dream about having.

He pushed the huge box in front of me, his face showing a hint of expectation.

"Nora, look what I got you."

I walked forward, my gaze lingering on the box for three seconds.

Then I calmly picked it up, walked to the storage cabinet, and placed it on the highest, most difficult-to-reach shelf.

I turned around and met his astonished gaze.

"New Life Code, Article Fifteen: Unnecessary complex creative activities are prohibited to prevent scattered thinking."

My father's face instantly turned livid.

The gift he had spent an entire evening rushing to buy was treated by me as a contraband item that needed to be sealed away.

My mother, meanwhile, tried to awaken me with emotion.

She pulled out a thick photo album, waved at me, wanting me to sit beside her.

I remained seated without moving.

Seeing this, my mother had no choice but to hold the album in front of me, pointing to one of the photos.

"Nora, look, this is you. So adorable."

In the photo, an eight or nine-year-old girl wore a T-shirt covered in paint, smiling brilliantly at the camera, with a bit of cream still on her teeth.

I looked at the photo she pointed to without reaction.

After half a minute, I finally nodded.

"Data confirmed. Subject: Nora Lincoln. Time: ninth birthday."

I paused, then added:

"Emotional response module not activated."

My mother's hands holding the album began to tremble. She looked to my father as if seeking help.

My father's Adam's apple bobbed, but he said nothing.

That afternoon, my brother was chasing a ball around the living room.

His feet slipped, and he fell forward, his knee hitting hard against the corner of the coffee table.

"Wahhh"

Heart-wrenching cries erupted as blood instantly seeped from his knee.

"Tyler!"

My mother and father cried out and were about to rush over.

But I was faster than them.

My body activated like an emergency medical robot, instantly springing into action.

I rushed to the medicine cabinet, opened it, and took out iodine, cotton swabs, and bandages.

The entire process had no pause.

I walked quickly to my brother, crouching down.

He was sobbing uncontrollably, looking at me with fear.

I said in a voice without inflection: "Emergency medical protocol activated. Step one: clean the wound."

My fingers were as steady as surgical clamps, precisely using cotton swabs dipped in iodine to clean his bleeding wound.

I wiped ten times total, changing cotton swabs after every five wipes.

The wound was irritated, making him cry harder, his body starting to thrash.

"Command: Remain still."

I spoke coldly.

My brother seemed frightened by my voice. His crying hitched, and he actually stopped moving.

I quickly cleaned, disinfected, and applied the bandage.

After finishing, I stood up and reported to my dumbstruck parents:

"Treatment complete. Wound depth approximately two millimeters, length three centimeters."

"Recommend twenty-four hour observation to prevent infection."

After speaking, I turned to clean the used medical supplies.

Only my brother's suppressed sobbing remained in the living room.

My mother looked at my meticulous back, her lips trembling, finally managing to speak:

"Before... even when he just scraped his skin a little, you would cry harder than him..."

I stopped what I was doing and turned to look at her.

My eyes were hollow, as if analyzing an incomprehensible term.

"Sad?"

I tilted my head, seemingly searching for this command in my database.

After a few seconds, I provided an answer:

"No relevant command in database."

In that moment, I clearly saw fear climb onto their faces for the first time.

They were finally beginning to realize.

What they had personally erased wasn't just my so-called "flaws."

But also my "humanity."

Late at night.

I lay in the pure white bed, my body as if trapped in an invisible cage.

Nightmares surged like tidal waves.

"Subject 734, violation of solitary confinement regulations. Thinking about content unrelated to the Code."

"Punishment... water torture..."

"No... don't..."

"Alert, alert! Emotional fluctuation exceeding limits! Initiating electric shock..."

I began to struggle violently in bed, my forehead covered in cold sweat, teeth clenched tight, uttering incoherent sleep talk.

"It hurts... I was wrong..."

My parents in the next room were awakened.

They rushed into my room, turned on the light, and saw me in unbearable pain.

"Nora!"

My mother let out a cry, tears instantly flowing.

She rushed to the bedside, reaching out to hold me, to wipe the cold sweat from my forehead.

"Nora, don't be afraid. I'm here, I'm here..."

The moment her hand touched my skin.

My eyes flew open.

In those eyes was no longer the daytime emptiness, but pure terror and agony taken to the extreme.

Like a cornered beast.

"Alert! Alert! Violation of New Life Code Article Three! Non-necessary contact with strangers!"

I used every ounce of strength to push her away.

"Level Two punishment initiated!"

The shrill alarm seemed to sound only in my mind.

I suddenly sat up from the bed, hands gripping my head tightly, my body beginning to convulse violently beyond control.

My teeth ground together audibly, guttural groans emerging from my throat.

It was a pure, physiological pain response.

My mother and father were completely stunned by the scene before them.

They stood frozen in place, watching me convulse and spasm on the bed, not daring to step forward.

A few seconds passed, yet it felt like several centuries.

The convulsions suddenly stopped.

I released my head and slowly sat up straight, rigid as a spear.

The eyes that had just been full of pain and terror became a deathly emptiness once again.

As if the brutal struggle moments ago had been nothing but an illusion.

I raised my head, meeting their horrified gazes, and said in a disturbingly calm voice:

"System malfunction eliminated."

"Please leave. It is now rest period."

My father's lips trembled, unable to utter a single word.

My mother collapsed on the floor, looking at mea completely different personas bone-chilling cold spread from her feet to the top of her head.

The hell they had personally created, named "discipline."

My father sat in the living room calling Director Wallace all night, but no one answered.

It wasn't until nine o'clock the next morning that the call was finally picked up.

"Director Wallace! What the hell did you do to my daughter!?"

"What is that punishment mechanism!?"

On the other end, Director Wallace's voice sounded refined and cultured, even carrying a hint of a smile.

"Mr. Lincoln, don't get excited. That's our latest 'deep sleep therapy.' Through subconscious guidance, we correct bad behaviors. Occasionally some rejection reactions occurit's perfectly normal."

"Normal? She was convulsing like she'd gone mad! She was screaming about electric shocks! Water torture!"

My father's voice trembled with rage.

The laughter on the other end disappeared. Director Wallace's tone instantly turned cold.

"Mr. Lincoln, it was you who personally requested that we use the most efficient and thorough methods to make her 'normal.'"

My father's breathing hitched.

Director Wallace continued unhurriedly, his voice like a venomous snake.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. My son just received a full scholarship to MIT. He'll be leaving next month."

"This is all thanks to your generous ten million dollar donation back then."

"Our entire family remembers this favor."

A naked threat.

Using his son's future, using that ten million dollar "donation," he blocked all of my father's questions.

My father slammed down the phone.

I heard the dull thud of his fist hitting the table, and his suppressed, beast-like panting.

He was being held hostage by the devil he had created with his own hands.

On the other side, my mother was frantic.

She frantically searched online for any information about "New Life Reform Academy."

Apart from glowing reviews on the official website, she found nothing.

Just when she was about to despair, she finally discovered an encrypted parent forum.

She paid someone to crack the password.

Inside was a hell completely different from the official website.

Line after line, word after word, all blood and tears of accusation.