Life Sentence for the Whole Family

Three years ago, on a crisp morning, I stood at the entrance of the academy, clad in a uniform white dress.

My parents arrived to pick me up, their faces beaming with satisfaction.

Dad spread his arms wide, intending to hug me, but I instinctively recoiled.

Following Rule Number Three of the New Life Protocol, I performed a perfect bow.

"Unnecessary contact within three meters of strangers is prohibited," I recited, my voice devoid of emotion.

They liked me this wayevery step measured as if with a ruler, my hands primly clasped in front of me. They liked this rigid version of me.

But theyd forgotten the girl I used to be, the most vibrant child in the family.

That was before my brother, Richard, was born. After that, every action of mine was deemed a threat to him.

I remember his first birthday. Id spent an entire month, meticulously collecting thousands of parts, to build him a singing castle.

The moment it activated, the dazzling lights and mechanical whirring terrified him, making him burst into tears.

That night, Dad smashed my castle to pieces, and Mom slapped me for the first time.

The next day, I was sent to this secluded institution, ironically named "New Beginnings Academy," which promised to "remake" children.

"Director Feldman, there's something wrong with my daughter's mind. Please, make her 'normal'," Dads eyes were as cold as a winter's frost back then. He even pledged ten million dollars to the academy and covered all of Feldman's son's advanced education expenses.

Now, they were finally pleased, because I was "normal."

Dads outstretched arms froze in mid-air.

The smile on his face slowly vanished, leaving only bewilderment.

Mom hurried over, pulling his arm down firmly, a forced smile plastered on her face.

"Look at Eleanor, she's so well-mannered now, isn't that wonderful?"

She tried to take my hand.

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

Moms smile completely froze.

Dad's face darkened, but he spoke with forced patience:

"Eleanor, stop messing around. Let's go home with Mom and Dad."

I didnt move, just stared at them expressionlessly.

After a full minute, I nodded.

"Directive confirmed: Return home."

I turned, my steps precise, each one perfectly identical to the last.

They followed silently behind me.

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

They led me into a room.

Pure white walls, pure white sheets, pure white desk.

Aside from necessities, the room held no superfluous decorations.

It resembled a high-end hospital room.

Dad spoke with a hint of eagerness:

"Eleanor, look, your new room. You always complained your old one was messy. Youll definitely like this."

I scanned the room, then nodded.

"Complies with Appendix Two of the 'New Life Protocol': Environmental cleanliness standards."

A muscle twitched in Dads face.

Dinner time.

I sat at the dining table, back ramrod straight, hands resting on my lap.

Once dinner began, I picked up my chopsticks, only selecting the greens directly in front of me.

The number of chews, the timing of sips of water C all strictly adhered to an invisible standard.

Mom watched me, her eyes filled with an unspoken heartache.

She placed a piece of braised pork into my bowl, piling it up.

"Eleanor, you used to love this. Try some."

I put down my chopsticks.

Then, right in front of her, I picked up the piece of meat and placed it on an empty side plate.

I looked up at her instantly pale face, and calmly recited.

"'New Life Protocol,' Rule Number Seven: Reject unrequested offerings to curb greed."

"You don't have to follow those damn rules at home!"

Dad finally lost his temper, slamming his hand on the table as he roared.

I turned my gaze to him, my eyes utterly devoid of emotion.

"Protocols are life. They cannot be violated."

The air was dead silent.

Just then, a small boy in an action hero-themed pajama set waddled over.

He held up a red action figure, offering it to me.

"Ellie, play with me."

It was Richard.

I immediately stood from my chair, swiftly stepping back two paces, widening the distance between us.

"'New Life Protocol,' Rule Number Nineteen: Prohibit contact with entertainment items prone to addiction."

My reaction was swift and mechanical.

Four-year-old Richard was startled.

He froze, his mouth downturned, and then he burst into a loud sob.

His sharp cry pierced the quiet of the dining room.

Three years ago, a similar cry led to Dad smashing my castle.

History was repeating itself.

Moms face instantly twisted into an ugly mask. Without thinking, she yelled at me.

"You again!"

Her voice was shrill, brimming with fury. But when her gaze met my empty eyes, the fire seemed to be doused with a bucket of ice water.

Her mouth hung open, the rest of her angry words caught in her throat, replaced by a chill that rose from the depths of her soul.

Dad impatiently scooped up the wailing Richard, waving a dismissive hand.

"That's enough! Go back to your room for now!"

I didnt argue.

"Directive received."

I turned, my steps measured as if by a ruler, and left the dining room.

Behind me, Richard's incessant crying, and my parents' increasingly heavy breaths.

They had finally gotten a "perfect" daughter.

A daughter who was absolutely obedient, absolutely compliant.

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

He bought a brand-new LEGO set, with thousands of pieces.

It was the "Star Fortress," something I used to dream about.

He pushed the huge box towards me, a hint of expectation in his eyes.

"Eleanor, look, Dad bought this for you."

I walked over, 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 inaccessible shelf.

I turned around, meeting his bewildered stare.

"'New Life Protocol,' Rule Number Fifteen: Prohibit unnecessary complex creative activities to prevent divergent thinking."

Dad's face instantly turned ashen.

The gift he had spent an entire night snatching up was now treated by me like a contraband item to be sealed away.

Mom, on the other hand, tried to awaken me with emotions.

She pulled out a thick photo album and beckoned to me, wanting me to sit beside her.

I remained seated.

Seeing this, Mom had no choice but to hold the album up to my face, then pointed at one of the pictures.

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

In the photo, an eight or nine-year-old girl, wearing a paint-stained T-shirt, smiled brightly at the camera, a little cream still clinging to her teeth.

I looked at the photo she pointed to, showing no reaction.

After half a minute, I nodded.

"Data confirmed: Individual is Eleanor Hayes. Time: Ninth birthday."

I paused, then added.

"Emotional response module not activated."

Moms hand, holding the album, began to tremble. She looked at Dad for help.

Dads Adam's apple bobbed, but he said nothing.

That afternoon, Richard was chasing a rubber ball in the living room.

He slipped, falling forward, his knee hitting the corner of the coffee table with a thud.

"Wah"

A heart-wrenching cry erupted, and blood instantly seeped from his knee.

"Richard!"

Mom and Dad cried out in alarm, about to rush over.

But I was faster.

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

I rushed to the medicine cabinet, opened it, and retrieved iodine, cotton swabs, and a band-aid.

The entire process was seamless.

I quickly walked to Richard, and knelt down.

Richard was sobbing uncontrollably, looking at me with fear.

I spoke in a flat voice: "Initiating emergency medical procedure. Step one: Cleanse wound."

My fingers were steady as surgical clamps, precisely dipping a cotton swab into iodine and wiping his bleeding wound.

I wiped it ten times, changing the swab every five wipes.

The wound was irritated, and Richard cried harder, his body starting to squirm.

"Directive: Remain still."

I spoke coldly.

Richard seemed startled by my voice; his crying paused, and he actually stopped moving.

I quickly cleaned, disinfected, and applied the band-aid.

After finishing, I stood up and reported to my stunned parents.

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

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

Having said that, I turned to clean the used medical tools.

Only Richard's muffled sobs remained in the living room.

Mom looked at my meticulous back, her lips trembling, and finally spoke.

"You used to even if he just scraped his knee, youd cry harder than him"

I stopped what I was doing and looked back at her.

My eyes were empty, as if analyzing an incomprehensible word.

"Cry?"

I tilted my head, seemingly searching my database for this directive.

A few seconds later, I provided the answer.

"Database contains no relevant directive."

At that moment, I clearly saw fear, for the first time, creep onto their faces.

They were finally starting to realize.

What they had personally erased was not just my so-called "flaws."

But also my "humanity."

Late at night.

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

Nightmares surged like a tide.

"Subject 734, violating solitude protocol, thinking thoughts unrelated to regulations."

"Punishment... waterboarding..."

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

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

I began to struggle violently in bed, my forehead slick with cold sweat, teeth clenched, uttering incoherent murmurs.

"Pain... I'm sorry..."

My parents, in the adjacent room, were woken.

They rushed into my room, flicked on the light, and saw me in such agony.

"Eleanor!"

Mom cried out, tears instantly streaming down her face, her heart aching.

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

"Don't be scared, Eleanor, Mommy's here, Mommy's here..."

The moment her hand touched my skin.

I snapped my eyes open.

Those eyes, no longer holding the blankness of daytime, were filled with pure, extreme terror and pain.

Like a cornered wild animal.

"Alert! Alert! Violating 'New Life Protocol' Rule Number Three! Unnecessary contact with a stranger!"

I used all my strength, pushing her away.

"Initiating Level Two Punishment!"

The piercing alarm seemed to ring only in my mind.

I shot up from the bed, clutching my head tightly with both hands, my body beginning to convulse violently and uncontrollably.

My teeth gnashed audibly, and a guttural, beast-like groan escaped my throat.

It was a pure, physiological reaction to pain.

Mom and Dad were utterly stunned by the scene before them.

They stood frozen, watching me convulse and spasm on the bed, yet not daring to take a step closer.

A few seconds, yet it felt like centuries.

The convulsions suddenly stopped.

I released my hands from my head, slowly sat upright, as straight as a spear.

The eyes that had just been filled with pain and terror once again became a dead, empty void.

As if that fierce struggle just now had been nothing but a hallucination.

I looked up, meeting their horrified gazes, and said in a frighteningly calm voice:

"System malfunction resolved."

"Please leave. It is rest time."

Dads lips trembled; he couldnt utter a single word.

Mom collapsed onto the floor, looking at me, so utterly different, a chilling dread spreading from her feet to the top of her head.

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

Dad spent the entire night in the living room, calling Director Feldman, but no one answered.

It wasn't until nine the next morning that the call finally went through.

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

"What is that punishment mechanism!?"

On the other end of the line, Director Feldmans voice sounded genteel, even with a hint of a smile.

"Mr. Hayes, calm down. Thats our latest 'deep sleep therapy,' guiding the subconscious to correct undesirable behaviors. Occasional rejection reactions are quite normal."

"Normal? She was convulsing like a madwoman! Yelling 'electric shock'! 'Waterboarding'!"

Dads voice trembled with rage.

The laughter on the other end ceased, and Director Feldmans tone instantly turned cold.

"Mr. Hayes, you personally requested that we use the most efficient and thorough methods to make her 'normal' in the first place."

Dads breath hitched.

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

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

"We owe that entirely to your generous ten-million-dollar donation, Mr. Hayes."

"Our whole family remembers this kindness."

Naked blackmail.

He used his sons future, and that ten-million-dollar "donation," to silence all of Dads questions.

Dad slammed the phone down with a bang.

I heard the muffled thud of his fist hitting the table, and his repressed, animalistic gasps.

He was caught in the grip of the monster he had personally created.

Meanwhile, Mom was frantic.

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

Aside from a torrent of glowing reviews on their official website, she found nothing.

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

She paid someone to crack the password.

Inside, was a hell entirely different from the official website.

Line after line, word after word, were accusations of blood and tears.