After my mother remarried, her eyes stopped searching for me. Everything she had—every scrap of warmth, every ounce of attention—was reserved for Ray’s daughter, Belinda. To steal back even a tiny fraction of her love, I learned how to lie. Stomach aches. Sudden fevers. Getting cornered by bullies behind the middle school bleachers. I crafted a thousand desperate fables just to pull her away from that shiny new family, if only for an hour. Just to have her brush the hair from my forehead like she used to when I was little, whispering, “Don’t be scared, Ruby. Mom’s here.” But when you cry wolf too many times, the world stops listening. Which brings us to now. I had a tumor in my brain. It pressed hard against my optic nerve, bleeding the color out of my vision, blurring the edges of the room into dark, pulsing shadows. With the last shreds of my strength, I dialed her number. “Mom… my head hurts so bad. I can’t see anything. Please… help me…” In the background of the call, I could hear the chaotic clamor of a crowded room. My mother’s voice came through the speaker, heavy with fatigue and cold disappointment. “Ruby, today is Belinda’s birthday dinner. Do you really have to throw a tantrum right now?” “I know you hate her,” she continued, her tone sharp with judgment. “But how many times are you going to pull this sick routine just to compete with her?” “Last month it was the exact same thing. You swore your stomach was bursting. I missed two weeks of shifts at the market, lost half my paycheck staying home to nurse you, and what did the doctor say? “Nothing wrong with her!” “You’re an adult now, Ruby. I’m just a grocery cashier. I literally cannot afford your pathetic bids for attention anymore.” Tears burned cold down my cheeks. “Mom, I swear… it’s real this time. I’m not lying.” “Enough!” she snapped. “Did you never read the story of the boy who cried wolf? If you keep pulling this stunt, I swear to God I’ll pretend I never had a daughter.” “Click.” The line went dead. A second later, my phone buzzed with a text from Belinda. “Mom turned off her phone. She said no one is allowed to ruin tonight. You look so desperate trying to steal her love, Ruby. It’s embarrassing.” I stared at the glowing, burning screen as my life seemed to trickle out of me, drop by drop. A bitter, broken smile pulled at the corner of my mouth. “Congratulations, Mom. You’re finally free of me.” Because the wolf was actually here. And the girl who lied was never coming home again. … The flat, droning dial tone cut through the air, sending a wave of panic crashing through my chest. My fingers went numb. The phone slipped, crashing onto the dirt-crusted concrete floor with a violent “crack”. The glass shattered into a spiderweb of white lines. I collapsed backward onto the thin mattress. The world went dead quiet, save for the deafening, mechanical roar vibrating inside my skull where the tumor sat. A wave of violent nausea hit me, but my stomach was completely empty. I heaved uselessly until bright, yellow-green bile spurted from my mouth, splashing across the floorboards. That was the third time today. The dark void in the center of my vision expanded, warping the faint ambient light into jagged shapes. My mind drifted back two weeks ago, to the first time I vomited like this. I had been at the house. The moment the bile hit the floor, Belinda had pinched her nose, squealing for my mother. “Mom! Ruby ate that expired cream cake I threw in the trash again!” “She’s just greedy, and now her stomach hurts so she can skip her job interview tomorrow!” Mom had just finished a graveyard shift at the store. Her eyes were bloodshot, bags sagging down her cheeks. She looked at the puddle on the floor and thought only of the mess she’d have to scrub. She didn’t take me to the clinic. She just tossed a mop at my feet. “Stealing garbage over a few dollars?” she’d said, her voice dripping with disgust. “You’re like a starving stray dog, Ruby. Clean it up yourself. Don’t expect me to wait on you.” To spare her the cost of a doctor’s visit, and to keep that terrifying, bitter scowl off her face, I choked down the agonizing throbbing in my head and accepted the blame. “I’m sorry, Mom. I won’t do it again.” “BANG! BANG! BANG!” The flimsy wooden door of my rented room vibrated under heavy fists. The landlady’s raspy, booming voice pierced through the door. “Ruby! Are you dead in there?! Is your rent coming this week or not?!” “I heard you throwing up again! I’m warning you, if you’re gonna kick the bucket, do it somewhere else! Don’t you dare ruin my property value!” “Dying? Yeah. Probably soon.” Every breath I took tasted like iron and rust. I forced myself to crawl off the bed. My knees cracked against the wooden frame, but I barely felt it. I had to leave. I couldn’t be a burden to the landlady, and I couldn’t let my body rot in this sunless, putrid corner of the city. I fumbled blindly, shoving my arm deep into the tear in my pillowcase until my icy fingers brushed against a small, stiff piece of paper. My savings book. Three thousand, eight hundred and twenty dollars and fifty cents. Every single penny had been scraped together over two brutal years of digging through recycling bins for aluminum cans and handing out flyers in the freezing rain. I had planned to give it to Mom this Christmas. I wanted to buy her that orthopedic heated back brace she’d been staring at in the pharmacy window. I wanted to prove to her that I was capable, that I could help. Now, it was either my funeral money or my final apology to her. I tucked the little book tightly against my ribs, under my coat. Dragging my body up, I used the wall for balance, step by agonizing step, until I stumbled out into the night. Outside, a winter blizzard was raging. The gale whipped across my face like shattered glass, but my skin was too numb to register the cold. The mass inside my head throbbed in sync with my racing pulse, slamming against the inside of my skull. Cold sweat drenched my shirt. The black fog in my eyes was so thick now that I was practically walking through ink. Holiday shoppers bustled past me, wrapped in warm scarves. Seeing me stumbling, pale as a corpse, they recoiled in disgust. “Look at her. Drunk off her mind on Christmas Eve. Have some self-respect.” “Stay away, man. She looks like a scammer trying to fake an injury.” No one reached out a hand. No one asked if I was okay. I didn’t care. I just needed to see my mother one last time before the light went out entirely. Relying purely on muscle memory and the faint streaks of neon light I could still perceive, I dragged my feet until I reached the entrance of “Value-Mart”. It was December 24th. The big-box store was packed with last-minute shoppers. Christmas carols blasted from overhead speakers, mixed with the frantic beeping of registers. The sheer volume sent spikes of agony through my brain. I leaned heavily against a metal display rack at the front entrance, gasping for air, searching the blinding sea of yellow fluorescent light for a familiar shape. My eyes strained against the haze. Finally, near the back aisle, I spotted a splash of bright crimson. The store employee vest. The silhouette was hunched over, struggling to lift a fifty-pound bag of rice onto the top shelf. Her movements were agonized and slow. Every time she lifted, her frame trembled violently—her chronic back injury flaring up again. Sitting on a bench less than fifteen feet away, in the heated break nook, was a girl in a white down coat. Belinda was swinging her legs, holding a cup of gourmet ice cream, shouting orders across the aisle. “Mom, hurry it up! That price tag is crooked.” “The shift supervisor was staring at you earlier. If he docks your pay, we won’t be able to order extra seafood for my party!” She was the stepdaughter Mom worshipped. I was just the ghost of her past mistakes. I tried to call out “Mom,” but my throat was bone dry; only a faint raspy breath escaped. Seeing Mom wobble as she tried to hoist the heavy bag, my instincts took over. I lurched forward to help her. “Mom, wait—” Without spatial awareness, my foot caught on a display rack. Instead of reaching her, I slammed hard into a multi-tiered glass tower of high-end imported wines. “CRASH——!!!” The sound of shattering glass exploded through the store like a bomb. Dozens of bottles of red wine tumbled to the linoleum, exploding into sharp shards, spraying deep red liquid everywhere. Shoppers screamed, scattering in all directions. The shift supervisor came rushing out from the back office, his face purple, pointing a finger at my mother. “Helen! What the hell is wrong with your family?!” “That’s eighty-dollar-a-bottle Cabernet! Your entire paycheck for the month won’t cover this!” “Are you trying to get me fired?! Are you trying to ruin this store?!” Mom frantically dropped the bag of rice, her face draining of all color. She turned around and saw me standing in the middle of the carnage, covered in red wine, swaying like a broken leaf. The terror and exhaustion in her eyes instantly curdled into pure, unadulterated rage. “Ruby?!” Belinda stood up, licking her spoon, her voice shrill and mocking. “Oh my gosh, Ruby! Did you seriously follow us here?” “Didn’t Mom tell you on the phone we don’t have money to buy you a new phone?” “Even if you smash up the store out of spite, Mom can’t pay for it! How can you be so selfish?!” Whispers rippled through the gathered crowd. “She did that on purpose to get money from her mom? Kids these days are monsters.” “Look at her, dressed alright, but sucking her mother dry. The poor woman works herself to the bone, and her daughter shows up to ruin her job?” “What a nightmare of a child.” The words rained down on me like blows. I shook my head wildly, desperate to explain, but the pressure in my skull was so immense that my vocal cords refused to work. “No… no… I didn’t… I came to…” “I came to help you.” “Enough! Stop humiliating me!” Mom charged over, her hand snapping around my wrist like a iron clamp, her fingernails digging deep into my flesh. She dragged me violently down the dim, narrow corridor toward the employee emergency exit. The dull light masked the absolute venom on her face. “Ruby, what do you want from me?! What?!” she hissed, her voice shaking with rage. Red veins streaked the whites of her eyes. “Today is Belinda’s birthday! It’s supposed to be a good day! Are you deliberately trying to ruin my life?” “Do you won’t be satisfied until I’m dead?!” I stared at her. Her face was twisted into something unrecognizable by years of bitter labor and resentment. Choking back the agonizing heat in my head, I reached inside my coat with trembling hands, pulled out the red savings book—still warm from my body—and held it out to her. “Mom… the money… here…” I strained to focus on her face, desperately wanting her to see me, wanting to tell her there was enough in there to pay for the broken wine, that there was enough left over to buy her back brace. I wanted to tell her I never meant to hurt her. Before Mom could reach for it, a manicured hand darted out and snatched the book away. Belinda had followed us into the hallway. She flipped the book open, scanned the front page, and let out a dramatic gasp. “Mom! Look! This is the savings book that went missing from the kitchen drawer last week!” “Ruby stole it!” My head snapped up. Through my shattered vision, Belinda’s smirk was distorted, demonic. “That was my name on the cover! That was two years of my sweat, my bleeding hands, my frozen nights! How could it be her missing money?!” “No! I didn’t steal it! I saved it myself—” “SLAP!” A sharp, violent crack echoed down the narrow hallway. The force of Mom’s hand sent my head violently to the side. My ears rang with a deafening screech; half my face instantly went numb, and I felt the metallic taste of blood burst across my lip. Mom held the book, her eyes terrifyingly cold, brimming with absolute disgust. “You’ve really grown up, haven’t you, Ruby?” “First it was fake stomach aches and fake migraines to trick me into missing work. Now you’ve turned into a thief?” “Five hundred dollars went missing from my nightstand last week. Belinda even gave up her new makeup kit to help me cover rent, and it was “you” who took it the whole time?!” I remembered last week. Belinda had brought home a designer handbag, claiming it was a cheap knock-off her friend gave her. She had stolen the household money, and she had seamlessly set the trap for me days ago. “I didn’t… Mom, please believe me… look at the deposit dates—” Panicking, my blood pressure spiked wildly. Hot fluid rushed up my nasal passages, and dark crimson blood began to drip out of my nose, spattering onto my collar in thick, heavy drops. Belinda folded her arms, letting out a cruel laugh. “Oh, here we go again. Last month you used ketchup to fake spitting up blood, now you’re using red marker for a nosebleed?” “Ruby, your acting skills haven’t improved at all. You really should apply for drama school.” Mom glanced at the blood pooling on the concrete floor. A flicker of doubt crossed her eyes for a fraction of a second. But then, the supervisor’s furious voice roared from the main floor. “Helen! Are you handling it or not?! Pay up or I’m calling the cops!” The word “cops” shattered whatever motherly instinct she had left. She closed her eyes, letting out a long, ragged exhale. “Enough. I am sick of this drama.” “This money will go to pay for the wine. As for you…” Mom pointed a shaking, relentless finger toward the heavy metal exit door. “Get out. Get out of my sight right now.” “I’m going to pretend I never birthed a daughter like you. Get out!” I froze, standing paralyzed in the dim light, watching the nosebleed drip relentlessly onto the toes of my faded canvas sneakers. The sound of my mother’s heavy breathing echoed in my ears, accompanied by Belinda’s muffled, triumphant giggle. To her, my whole life was just a bad performance. Another violent wave of vertigo crashed through my skull. The world spun out of control, and the last residual drops of light melted into complete, permanent darkness. I was blind. My hands scrambled wildly against the metal wall, nails scraping against the cold paint to keep myself from falling. Belinda waited until Mom turned her back to head toward the checkout counter. She leaned close to my ear, her fingers pinching the soft skin of my inner arm with vicious force. “Beat it, stray dog. Don’t ruin Mom’s shift.” “If you mess up my birthday dinner, I swear I’ll make your life a living hell.” “Oh, and thanks for taking the heat on the cash. You saved me a real headache.” The searing pain in my arm actually brought a terrifying moment of clarity to my hazy mind. “Yes. It’s time to go.” My existence had never brought my mother anything but burden and embarrassment. If I was the girl who cried wolf… then I would play the role until the very end. If I denied being sick, Mom would never have to drown in crushing medical debt to save a lost cause. If I confessed to stealing the money, Mom could use it with a clean conscience to pay off the wine, without feeling an ounce of guilt toward me. I took a deep breath, forcing the thick taste of blood back down my throat. I lifted my head toward the blurry red smudge where I thought she was standing, forcing a smile that felt more painful than death. I knew she was listening. “Mom… I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice so thin it threatened to dissolve in the drafty hall. “The money… I stole it. I’m just a piece of trash who couldn’t amount to anything.” “Don’t worry. I won’t steal anymore. And I’ll never fake being sick again.” “This is… really the last time.” I couldn’t stay another second. I knew if I stayed, I would break down and beg her to hold me, beg her to take me to a hospital, beg her to love me. I turned around into the pitch blackness and ran, relying on memory, stumbling blindly toward the street. My knees slammed hard into a display rack outside—an agonizing pain. My shoulders clipped startled pedestrians, eliciting curses. I didn’t stop. I fled like a criminal. Behind me, hearing those frantic, uneven footsteps fading into the snow, my mother’s heart suddenly dropped. An overwhelming wave of dread washed over her, an involuntary instinct pulling her to turn around, to call out to me. “Ruby—” “Mom! The manager needs you to sign the damage release form! Hurry, Dad and the guests are waiting at the restaurant!” Belinda grabbed Mom’s arm, yanking her back, severing that fleeting thread of motherly intuition. Mom hesitated, looking down at the shattered wine bottles on the floor. She let out a heavy sigh, adjusted her red vest, and walked toward the register. … I didn’t know how far I ran. Maybe miles. Maybe just around the corner. My legs finally gave out, refusing to bear the weight of my broken body. I crashed headfirst into the freezing snow of a back alley behind the supermarket, landing right beside a overflowing, foul-smelling dumpster. It was perfect. No one would see me here. I wouldn’t mess up anyone’s pristine sidewalk. The heat was leaving my body at terrifying speed. My hands and feet had long lost all sensation, but the tumor in my head continued its furious, rhythmic throb, reminding me I was still tethered to this flesh. Suddenly, the phone in my coat pocket vibrated. A faint glow peeked through the fabric. I forced my stiff, frozen fingers to drag the phone out, holding the cracked screen less than an inch from my face to discern the green icon. A voice message from Mom. “Did she realize I was telling the truth? Did she want me to come home?” With a spark of desperate hope, my frozen thumb tapped the screen. My mother’s voice leaked out of the cracked speaker, crisp and icy: “Take the money and drop dead. Don’t you ever let me see your face again.” “Beep.” The audio ended. The alley returned to a dead, heavy silence. The last ember of my desire to live went out. “So, those are my final words from you.” “Congratulations, Mom. You’re finally free.” The phone slid from my frozen grip, its screen flickering once before going completely black. Heavy snowflakes fell softly from the night sky, slowly blanketing my hair, my coat, my face. It felt surprisingly warm. I closed my eyes. On the eve of Christmas, in a world full of warm hearths and joyful reunions… The girl who lied finally, truly, was never coming home again.
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