The Pause on the Line

When Mom nearly died giving birth to my little sister, I struck a deal with Death himself. I staked my soul to keep them both alive, but if by my eighteenth birthday Mom no longer loved me best, my soul would vanish.

At the start, I was certain. Thats far too easy, I told the shadow. Mom always calls me her favorite.

But she was lying. My sister was frail, a fragile porcelain doll doted on by everyone from her first breath. Just like that, I ceased to be the favored child.

On my twelfth birthday, I wished aloud to be Moms favorite again. My sisters weak heart panicked at the words. Furious, Mom shipped me off to a brutal reform academy for six years.

When I returned as Cadet 018, my sister greeted me in a frilly dress, smiling like a perfect doll. Theres no room for you here now. Are you mad? she asked. You may be healthy, but youll never have Moms love. Are you mad? They almost brought you back, but I cried and played sick until they were too afraid. Are you mad?

I simply shook my head. She was the sister Id wagered my soul to save. How could I be angry? It was just that this wager, made in the name of love, was one I was about to lose.

The moment the clock struck midnight on my eighteenth birthday, I saw Uncle Death again.

Looking at my frail body and the map of scars covering my skin, the Grim Reaper froze.

He let out a long, heavy sigh.

"You are a good kid, but a deal is a deal."

Perhaps my miserable state moved him, because he looked at me with a trace of pity.

"I can bend the rules a little for you, though."

"On this day of your adulthood, if your mother says she loves you most, whether she means it or not, I will consider it a win."

"If she cannot even manage that, I have to take your soul. You will vanish forever."

I nodded blankly.

But my mother could not even bring herself to say she loved me, let alone say she loved me most.

Six years in that hellhole of a school, and I never received a single phone call. Not once did she come to see me. I had learned my lesson. I no longer dared to hope for her affection.

I was shoved into the dusty utility room. My old toy piano and stuffed animals were piled up there, buried under layers of grime. Just like me, discarded junk.

This was my first night back, the first day of my adulthood, and likely my last day on Earth.

Mom always hated how I begged for her attention. She had no idea that without her love, I would literally die.

I woke up to the sound of my sister laughing.

The breakfast table held four beautifully prepared plates. Mom still loved making gourmet meals. The sweet aroma filled the room, but the disposable plate and plastic fork set in front of me felt like a slap in the face.

My presence made the air thick with tension. Dad tried to break the ice with a forced smile.

"Sit down, Helen. It is your eighteenth today. Come try the strawberry cake your mom spent all morning baking."

"You have gotten thin. I know that boarding school was military style and tough on you, but you have always been a strong kid. A little hardship builds character."

"Your sister is fragile, so we had to send you to a school that could handle your supervision. Congratulations on graduating!"

I kept my head down, too terrified to speak. I shoved the cake into my mouth mechanically. At the school, speaking during meals meant being strapped to a metal cot and shocked. Taking longer than ten minutes to eat earned you a ten mile march under the blistering sun.

Seeing me gulp down my food like a wild animal, Mom's face hardened.

"Helen! Who are you putting on this act for?" she snapped. "We paid a fortune for your education, and you are acting like a victim?"

Hearing my full name, my body reacted on instinct. I stood up straight, snapping to attention.

"Cadet 018, reporting for duty!"

The dining room fell into a dead silence. My sudden movement was so violent that it startled Grace, who was slicing her cake. She gasped, clutching her chest. "Helen, what are you doing?"

Dad rushed to the cabinet for her pills. Mom pulled Grace into her arms, whispering soothing words.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Does your heart hurt? Daddy is getting your medicine." Then she glared at me, her eyes flashing with rage. "Are you insane, Helen? If you try to hurt your sister again, I will send you right back to that school!"

"Have you learned nothing? You ruin the family's peace the very second you step through the door. How did I end up with a daughter like you?"

The warm breakfast was ruined. I stood frozen in place. I wanted to explain that I did not mean to scare her, but my throat tightened. I could not make a sound.

Mom's shouting stopped. My breathing turned shallow and frantic as red hives erupted across my skin.

"Helen, what is wrong with you..."

"Strawberries! She is highly allergic to strawberries!" Dad shouted. "Call an ambulance!"

Oh. I was allergic to strawberries. It had been so long since I had seen fresh fruit that I had completely forgotten. At school, we ate spoiled scraps. If we behaved, we got a plain piece of bread. Mostly, we just starved.

I remembered when Mom used to love me. Back then, when she discovered my allergy, she went out of her way to buy other expensive fruits for me. Love used to mean worrying about whether I had enough to eat. She used to spend hours researching recipes just to get me to take one more bite.

Why did her love have to change so fast?

When I opened my eyes, Mom was frowning down at me. The IV drip was empty, and the hives had mostly faded. She looked relieved, but her words were still laced with blame.

"Were you trying to spite me, Helen? If you knew you were allergic, why did you eat the whole thing? When you were little, you would not even touch food you did not like."

I remained silent. Mom did not know that pickiness was punished by having teeth pulled.

She sighed, looking a bit awkward as she handed me a gift box. I held it like a sacred relic, my voice cracking. "Mom, you haven't given me a birthday present in so long."

Inside was a sparkling princess dress.

"Take it. You always stared at Grace whenever she wore her dresses."

I could not wait to put it on. But against my pale, sun damaged skin and dry, brittle hair, the extravagant gown looked ridiculous.

Mom winced slightly. "Can't you at least wash your hair and take a proper shower, Helen? A young woman shouldn't look so disheveled."

Then she asked if I had a birthday wish. After six years of silence, this felt like the first drop of warmth. I remembered my wager with Uncle Death. I wanted to live. I did not want my soul to shatter into dust.

"Mom, can you do one thing for me?" I whispered. "Just say, Mom loves Helen most."

Please, Mom. Save me. Just this once.

Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass echoed from the hallway. Grace was leaning against the wall, gasping for breath, clutching her chest in agony. On the floor lay a shattered snow globe. Scattered around her feet were drawings that said, Happy Birthday, Sis.

Mom's eyes turned red with panic. Before I could process what was happening, she slapped me across the face.

The blow was heavy, and blood began to drip from my nose. But it did not really hurt. The guards at the school hit much harder.

Mom held Grace, crying hysterically as she screamed at me. "You know your sister cannot handle stress, Helen! Will you literally die if you stop trying to steal her spotlight?"

"Why do you have to be so selfish? Is your head filled with nothing but jealousy?"

The scene mirrored my twelfth birthday exactly. Back then, a simple wish had branded me a monster.

I wiped the blood from my face. "Yes," I whispered. "Without your love, I will literally die."

Mom froze, but then she completely lost her mind. She spewed venom, wishing I had never been born, saying she wanted to rip my healthy heart out to give it to Grace. She asked why the sickness had not taken a parasite like me instead.

Her eyes were cold, filled with nothing but disgust. "Do you want to know when I started regretting giving birth to you, Helen? It was the day I was wheeled out of the operating room, bleeding out. Grace and I were hanging on by a thread."

"You ran up to my bedside with a grin on your face. Your first words were not to ask if we were okay. You asked me if you were still my favorite child."

I was used to being yelled at, but my chest still throbbed with an unbearable ache.

So she had hated me since the very beginning.

On the day Grace was born, Mom was hemorrhaging, and both of them were dying. I had seen the dark shadows coming to take their souls. I cried and begged until Uncle Death took pity on me. He agreed to spare them if I staked my own soul.

I was smiling that day because Uncle Death had not lied to me. They were alive. And I asked that question because of the wager.

Mom, without your love, I really will die.

Even if my life was the price for yours, it was worth it.

Mom sobbed, her face twisted in grief. "The doctors said Grace would not live long. You have a perfectly healthy body. Why could you not just let her have this?"

"You have a whole lifetime ahead of you, but your sister only has us. Why do you have to fight her for everything? Does it really matter who I love most?"

I stood there, hollowed out.

Did it matter?

Maybe my soul turning to dust did not matter either.

Due to the shock, Grace was resting in a hospital bed. I stood in the corner of the room in my ill fitting princess dress, looking like an unwelcome clown.

Dad was carefully peeling strawberries for Grace, while Mom read her a fairy tale.

Suddenly, the fire alarm blared. Panic erupted in the hallway. Shouts of fire echoed through the building. My parents panicked. Grace shivered in terror.

Dad scooped her up, shielding her in his arms. Mom grabbed Grace's favorite stuffed bunny from the bed. They ran toward the emergency exit, neither of them casting a single glance at me.

"Don't cry, sweetie. Mommy and Daddy will protect you and Mr. Bunny."

Dad protected Grace. Mom protected a toy. And I, just like those past six years, was left behind in the smoke.

"Mom! Wait for me!" I cried, running after them. Don't leave me alone. I am scared too.

I was swept up in the stampeding crowd, losing sight of them instantly. I was shoved against the handrails, bruising my arms and legs.

It hurt. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in my chest.

The fire turned out to be minor, and the panic subsided quickly. They found me standing in the crowd, looking like a total wreck. My hair was wild, my skin was bruised, and the hem of my princess dress had been trampled into a dirty rag.

Grace was spotless. Even her stuffed bunny was perfectly clean.

Mom pulled me aside, her expression filled with annoyance. "You are an adult now, Helen. Can't you even run away from a fire by yourself?"

She looked down at my ruined dress, then at my bruised skin, and finally, at the older scars crisscrossing my arms. They were years old, left by the metal rods used at the school.

She froze, her hand hovering over my skin. "Helen... what are these?"

"Did that school abuse you? Why did you never say anything?"

Her voice rose. "We paid so much money for that academy! How could they lay a hand on you? Why are you always so stubborn? Six years, and you never called home once to complain?"

I quickly pulled my sleeves down to hide the marks.

That school was a living hell, and the instructors were monsters. How could I have ever made a phone call? I was the only child who never had a visitor. When the guards were angry, they used me as a punching bag. The other kids joined in for fun.

Every single day, I had waited. I waited for Mom to call. Not to complain, just to hear her voice. But the phone never rang.

My eighteenth birthday was almost over. Would I ever hear her say she loved me?

Uncle Death said those whose souls were taken would never get a chance to reincarnate. They simply ceased to exist.

I did not want to fade away.

"Mom," I whispered, "are we still having my birthday dinner?"

Mom let out a cold, bitter laugh. "Your sister almost had a heart attack and we just survived a fire, and you are still thinking about a birthday party?"

Pushing down the hollow ache in my chest, I dropped to my knees in front of her, tears streaming down my face.

"Mom, I don't need a cake. We can cancel the party. Just grant me one wish."

I pressed my forehead against the cold floor, begging. "Please, just say you love me most. Just those words. I will do anything you want."

I was begging for my life. But even if I bled from bowing, she would not answer.

My tears only irritated her.

"Are you testing me, Helen?" she said, her voice dripping with disgust. "I won't play your games. It is my own failure as a mother that turned you into such a selfish child. I cannot force myself to tell such a lie."

I let out a broken laugh, my face soaked with tears.

Fine.

I kept bowing, my forehead hitting the floor over and over. Ninety-nine times. It was my way of paying her back for giving me life before I died.

"Mom, if you don't say it, I am going to die."

"Then go ahead and die," she snapped, turning on her heel and walking away.

I heard Grace was crying for her, frightened by the fire alarm. Mom could not bear to let her precious baby shed a single tear.

So be it. I lost the wager, and I accepted my fate.

The sky grew dark, and the clock ticked closer to midnight. There was no party, no cake, no dinner. Only a trampled princess dress, a perfect metaphor for my ruined youth.

The house was empty. Mom was not coming back.

I huddled in the dusty utility room, waiting for my soul to be claimed.

Uncle Death, even with your help, I could not do it.

My mom will never say she loves me most.