Ever since my little brother died of a high fever while my mother was busy keeping her precious college junior company, I started cutting her out of all our family photos. When my teacher called my dad, deeply concerned after hearing me say my mom was dead and that I wanted my desk mate’s mom instead, my dad just paused. Then he agreed with me. “Yeah. She passed away a long time ago.” At the school’s family sports day, my dad saw me hand the janitor a ten-dollar bill, asking her to be my mom for the afternoon. He did not stop me. Instead, he quietly slipped the woman another two hundred bucks to attend my parent-teacher conference. Whenever I needed a mother to show up, my dad would just let me buy one. It took my mother a long time to realize she hadn’t heard from us. She finally canceled her endless meetings to pick me up from school, only for my teacher to frown and shut the classroom door in her face. Confused and irritated, she went straight home. The moment she opened the front door, she heard me talking to our building superintendent. “My mom is dead. Do you want to be my new mom?” … Our living room wall was covered in framed photos of my award ceremonies. But the woman standing next to me and my dad in every single picture was a complete stranger. “Kyle. Who the hell are these women standing next to you?” Phoebe’s voice was absolute ice. Her glare could have burned a hole straight through the glass frames. I didn’t understand why she was so angry. I panicked, waving my little hands, trying to explain. The building superintendent wiped the sweat off her forehead. “Sweetie, why would you say such things? Your mother is clearly still alive!” She let out an awkward laugh and practically ran out of the apartment. Hearing that, Phoebe’s mouth twitched with sheer rage. She did not even notice the expensive bakery cake she had brought slipping from her hands and smashing onto the hardwood floor. “I haven’t been home in two months, and you two are telling people I am dead?” “Kyle! Is this how you raise our child?!” Terrified, I rushed forward to shield my dad. “Nobody taught me! Don’t blame Daddy! I said it myself!” Phoebe’s face turned completely black. She began yanking the picture frames off the wall, raising her arm to smash them. Then she paused. Her eyes caught the engraved golden plaques on the frames. First Place. Regional Champion. Her hands froze in mid-air. She looked down at me, her expression unreadable. I held my breath, waiting for her to explode. Phoebe had no idea that ever since she “died” in that other man’s house two months ago, my dad had been secretly paying women to act as my mother for every single family event. Hearing the commotion, my dad walked out of the master bedroom. In just two months, he looked like a walking skeleton. His eyes were hollow, his steps unsteady. Seeing Phoebe, he didn’t scream. He didn’t cry and demand a divorce. He didn’t grab a kitchen knife and threaten her to choose between her family and her precious junior. He just stared at her with a gaze so cold it felt like looking at a corpse. Phoebe’s rage instantly evaporated. Her beautiful eyes darted away, flashing with a brief moment of guilt. Remembering something, she nervously reached into her designer bag and pulled out a brand-new camera, offering it to him with a gentle smile. “Kyle, look. This is the new model you’ve wanted for so long.” “And I know you want to get back into photography. I already submitted your portfolio to the International Lens Competition.” My dad stared at it with zero emotion. There was not a single trace of joy on his face. I recognized it immediately. It was the camera my dad had kept saved in his online cart for two years. To pay the household bills, he had refused to buy it. When he finally swallowed his pride and asked Phoebe for it, she blew him off. Again and again. What Phoebe didn’t know was that the model she just bought was already outdated. My dad had already purchased the newest one himself. Watching his abnormal reaction, Phoebe’s eyebrows knit together. She let out a long sigh, pressing the camera into his hands with a patronizing, indulgent tone. “Alright, honey, it is my fault. I know you’ve been heartbroken since Noah passed away, and I shouldn’t have argued with you.” “Just be patient, okay? Things with Oliver are almost settled. Just give me a little more time…” A little more time. I clenched my tiny fists, looking at my mom with a breaking heart. Two months. My mom was a liar. She had said that exact phrase fifty-two times, and she never kept her word. My dad waited for her. He waited while my little brother coded in the emergency room. He waited while his clinical depression spiraled so badly he started self-harming. He waited until he was completely broken, and she still never came home. Instead, she would just scold him over the phone. “Kyle, I told you! She is my late mentor’s child. Oliver is my junior. Stop being so incredibly insecure!” Right then, Phoebe’s ringtone pierced the quiet room. She quickly answered it on speakerphone. A little girl’s desperate sobbing echoed through our apartment. “Auntie Phoebe, come back! Daddy’s head is burning up, and he collapsed on the floor! He won’t wake up!” Then, a man’s weak, scolding voice came through the line. “Sophie, why did you call her?! We cannot keep burdening her!” I scowled, opening my mouth to scream. That is not your mom! She is my mom! But Phoebe’s eyes instantly went red. Her voice trembled with sheer panic. “Oliver, what are you talking about? I would beg you to burden me for the rest of my life!” She frantically threw the expensive camera onto the sofa. “Kyle, Oliver might have overworked himself. I need to go check on him. I will explain everything later!” Phoebe ran out the door without looking back. My dad and I stood there, staring at the empty doorway. We both knew she was not coming back tonight. My dad picked up the camera she left behind and turned it on. The memory card was full of photos. Phoebe, Oliver, and Sophie. Smiling at theme parks. Eating at expensive restaurants. I saw a photo of Phoebe and Sophie laughing on a Ferris wheel. The timestamp was the exact same day my little brother died in the hospital. I saw a photo of them watching a beautiful fireworks display. That was the night my dad had a depressive episode and ended up bleeding in the bathtub. My chest hurt so badly I couldn’t breathe. I burst into tears. Mom always had time. She just never gave any of it to us. My dad’s entire body shook. He pulled me into his arms, his voice hoarse but terrifyingly resolute. “Jessica. Mommy is dead. Right?” I nodded my head vigorously. Something permanently shifted behind my dad’s eyes. He stood up, grabbed the camera, and hurled it violently against the wall. Crash. The expensive device shattered into a hundred plastic and glass pieces. I knew his heart had just shattered exactly the same way. That night, right before I fell asleep, I heard my dad talking on the phone in the dark. “The lead photographer position in Los Angeles. I accept.” “I will be there in exactly seven days.” Through my sleepy haze, I suddenly remembered something. My dad used to be a globally renowned photographer. Every time he released a print, billionaires and celebrities would get into bidding wars over it. But he gave up his entire reputation for Phoebe, hiding in New York, working a miserable, underpaid job where his boss treated him like garbage. I couldn’t help but smile into my pillow. In seven days, my shining, brilliant dad was coming back. Five days until we leave. I walked into the apartment after school and heard a massive clatter. Phoebe, who hadn’t been home in two days, was holding all the trophies and medals my dad and I had won. She was tossing them into a cardboard moving box. The princess dresses my dad saved up to buy me, and my limited-edition dolls, were all being stuffed into the box without a second thought. My brain short-circuited. I looked nervously at my dad. His face was frozen in absolute disgust. His fists were shaking at his sides. “Phoebe. Are you even human?!” “You don’t come home to see your own daughter for two days, and the first thing you do is steal her things to give to that parasite and his kid?!” Phoebe didn’t even look guilty. She casually inspected one of my gold medals, a dismissive smile on her lips. “Kyle, I don’t want to do this either. But if you hadn’t posted those passive-aggressive photos on Facebook, Oliver and Sophie wouldn’t be so depressed right now.” “Besides, Jessica is incredibly spoiled. What is the big deal about giving some toys to a child who doesn’t even have a mother?” My dad let out a dark, breathless laugh. His eyes instantly turned red with overwhelming disappointment. “I never showed off. Only a filthy mind sees filth in everything.” “Jessica and I worked hard for those trophies. While you were busy playing playing house with another man and his daughter, did you ever stop to think about your own child?!” I stood there, completely numb, unable to understand why my mom had turned into this monster. A year ago, when my dad and I wanted a specific type of traditional pastry, Phoebe drove three hundred miles just to learn how to bake it for us. Now, she was ripping our achievements off the walls to give to strangers. My dad took a deep breath. He seemed to see right through her. He pulled out his phone and sent a voice memo to a local journalist who had been begging for an interview. “Mr. Davis, I accept your offer for the ‘Champion Father and Daughter’ feature interview. Tomorrow morning at seven. 302 Silverlake Drive.” “Kyle! What the hell are you doing?!” Phoebe lunged forward and snatched the phone out of his hand. My dad tilted his head, looking down at her like she was a pathetic bug. “If they want the champion’s trophies, they better be ready to play the part.” “As long as Oliver and his kid can handle a live press interview about winning these awards, they can keep them.” Phoebe ground her teeth together, letting out a furious laugh. “Do you really have to make things this ugly?” “Kyle, what happened to you? You used to be so generous. So understanding.” She suppressed her temper, shooting a dark glare at the movers she had hired, ordering them to take the last box away. Before walking out the door, she gave my dad a look of sheer, unadulterated disappointment. “I am just borrowing them to cheer Sophie up. I will bring them back when we are done. Call the journalist and cancel it right now!” Used to be? I stared at my sneakers, my chest aching. My mom used to be different, too. “You are not taking a single thing out of this house…” my dad started. “Daddy!” I yelled, cutting him off. I turned to Phoebe and gave her a sweet, obedient smile, shaking my head. “It is okay, Daddy. I don’t want them anymore. Let Mommy give them to my new sister.” A flash of joy crossed Phoebe’s eyes. She walked over and patted my head, completely oblivious. “See? Our Jessica is such a good, mature girl.” After she left, I looked at the empty, stripped living room. I walked over to my piggy bank, pulled out a ten-dollar bill, and took my dad’s hand. His eyes were completely bloodshot. We walked downstairs to the college student living on the second floor. “Excuse me, miss? Can I give you ten dollars to be my mom for tonight?” “It is my daddy’s birthday.” The girl looked at us, her voice thick with pity. “Did Phoebe…” “She’s dead.” My dad and I said it at the exact same time. The girl seemed to understand immediately. She followed us back to our apartment. While I was singing Happy Birthday, right before my dad blew out the candles, his phone lit up with a notification. My dad stiffened. His fingers trembled as he opened it. I peeked at the screen, and the blood in my veins turned to absolute ice. Oliver had updated his social media. The caption read: Whenever I get angry and break things, she never gets annoyed. She just smiles and hands me more to throw. The attached photo showed my dad’s and my trophies shattered into a hundred pieces on their marble floor. My limited-edition dolls, the ones I loved so much I barely even took them out of the box, had their faces violently scribbled over with black permanent marker. Ping. Phoebe sent a message. It was a money transfer for fifty thousand dollars. My dad tapped the voice memo underneath it. Through the speaker, we could hear the chaotic sound of glass shattering in the background. “Kyle, there was a little accident with the trophies. Just take the money and buy Jessica some new ones. Stop making a big deal out of nothing.” Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. But Mom. Money can’t buy the love Daddy and I put into winning those. My dad squeezed his eyes shut. He immediately took a screenshot of the post and forwarded it to his lawyer. “Mr. Davis, these are photos proving Phoebe’s long-term infidelity with Oliver, along with the massive financial transfers she has been making to him.” “All the evidence is there. Fast-track the divorce proceedings.” My dad didn’t reply to Phoebe for the rest of the night. Her phone calls came in back-to-back, ringing endlessly. “Kyle, I am sorry I forgot your birthday, okay?” “Kyle! Why aren’t you accepting the transfer? Why are you throwing another tantrum?!” “Are you out of your mind?! The journalist actually showed up at Oliver’s house this morning! Do you have any idea how humiliated they were? Are you happy now?!” My dad read the frantic texts lighting up his screen. For the first time in two years, he didn’t shed a single tear. He just calmly hit the block button. Mom. You will never receive another message from Daddy again. Three days until we leave. The city was hosting a massive family track-and-field day. Phoebe had sworn up and down that she would be there. I sat on the competitor’s bench, my tiny hands sweating, waiting for her. Five minutes passed. Thirty minutes passed. She never showed up. My dad’s phone rang. It was her. “There was an absolute emergency at the corporate office. I have to be there. Tell Jessica I owe her one.” Before she could finish her excuse, my dad hung up and blocked her number. I tried to force a smile to make my dad feel better. But then, a sickeningly familiar voice drifted over from the VIP bleachers. “Auntie Phoebe, you are the best! With you here, we are definitely going to win!” My brain completely blanked out. I slowly turned my head. Phoebe was standing by the starting line, hugging a little girl in a matching athletic outfit. I looked up at my dad, completely lost. “Didn’t Mom say she had to work?” My dad shot up from the bench, his face pale with fury, ready to march over and demand an answer. I grabbed his sleeve with both hands, shaking my head. “Daddy, don’t. The race is starting.” My dad forced himself to sit back down, his jaw tight enough to crack teeth. It was a parent-child relay. As long as I ran the first two hundred meters and passed the baton to my dad, we would easily take first place. The grand prize was a fully paid family vacation package. Hope sparked in my chest. The starting pistol cracked. I ran like my life depended on it, clutching the red baton tightly in my fist. Fifty meters. One hundred and fifty meters. One hundred and ninety meters. Sweat was stinging my eyes. I reached my arm out, my heart pounding with excitement, ready to pass it to my dad. Suddenly, a violent shove hit my shoulder. I was thrown completely off balance, crashing hard onto the synthetic track. The rough surface tore the skin right off my knees. Blood instantly pooled down my legs. I bit my lip, tears streaming down my face from the burning pain. Right next to me, Sophieโthe girl who pushed meโsuddenly started screaming at the top of her lungs. “Why did you push me?! Mommy! It hurts!” She threw herself onto the ground, crying so loudly it made my ears ring. My dad sprinted onto the track like a madman, dropping to his knees to shield me. But Phoebe and Oliver reached us first. Phoebe pointed her finger right in my face and screamed. “Jessica! Why the hell would you push Sophie?!” I choked back my sobs, screaming from the sheer injustice. “I didn’t do it!” Sophie pointed her little finger right at me, wailing. “She did! She did it on purpose, Mommy!” A fireball of pure rage exploded in my chest. I was hyperventilating, completely unable to defend myself. My dad finally snapped. He stood up, his voice dripping with lethal venom. “Check the cameras! Since you are calling your own daughter a liar, let the security footage speak for itself!” But Phoebe just scooped Sophie up into her arms, turning her back on us. “Cameras? You’ve raised Jessica to be so utterly manipulative, checking the cameras is only going to humiliate her more!” They rushed off toward the medical tent. I lay there, my face totally drained of color. I reached up and gently touched my dad’s cheek. “Daddy. It doesn’t hurt…” Then the world went dark, and I passed out. When I woke up in the infirmary, I could hear the loud cheers echoing from the podium outside. “Congratulations to Sophie and her family for winning the relay championship!” I lowered my head. Fat tears fell onto my bloody bandages. I ran way faster than her. Why was she the champion? Did Mom… Before I could finish the thought, my dad stormed out of the infirmary, walking straight toward Oliver with a face like thunder. “Oh, hey Kyle. You really didn’t need to come all the way over here to congratulate my daughter.” Oliver leaned in, lowering his voice into a mocking whisper. “But really, thank you so much. If Phoebe hadn’t stepped up to take care of us, I have no idea where we would be right now. “Oh, and you guys totally would have won the race! But Phoebe is just too kind-hearted. She just can’t stand seeing us cry…” Smack. My dad’s fist connected perfectly with Oliver’s jaw. He grabbed a handful of Oliver’s styled hair and yanked him backward, throwing him to the ground. “I warned you to stay the hell away from my daughter!” Oliver’s pathetic shrieks instantly drew Phoebe running from the crowd. “Kyle! Have you completely lost your mind?! Just because you lost a stupid race, you resort to physical assault?!” My dad’s eyes were bloodshot, practically glowing with hatred. “Yeah! And I am going to make sure both of you disgusting parasites burn in hell!” Without a second of hesitation, Phoebe shoved my dad hard in the chest. He stumbled backward, clutching his throat, his face turning a terrifying shade of gray. My heart stopped. Dad’s severe panic attacks. His depression was triggering a physical collapse! I frantically dug into my pockets, pulling out his emergency medication. Dragging my bleeding, bandaged leg, I hobbled toward him as fast as I could. “Daddy!” I was just five feet away when someone’s foot intentionally hooked my ankle. I fell flat on my face, the plastic pill bottle flying out of my hands. Sophie stepped forward and slammed the heel of her sneaker directly onto the bottle, crushing it. “No!” I screamed until my vocal cords physically tore. That was his only emergency medication! His doctor had warned us that if he didn’t take it within twenty minutes of an episode, his heart could stop! Tears streamed down my face. I scrambled onto my hands and knees to grab the crushed pills. Suddenly, Oliver yelled out, “Jessica! Don’t push Sophie!” Before I could even process the lie, Phoebe lunged forward and shoved me out of the way without even blinking. Right behind me was the park’s ornamental lake. In a split second, my dad threw his body in front of mine to take the impact. Splash. My dad plunged backward into the freezing water. He thrashed wildly, his face turning purple as he struggled for air. I lost my mind. I grabbed Phoebe’s leg, sobbing hysterically. “Mommy! Daddy can’t swim!” “Mommy! Daddy is having an episode!” Phoebe’s pupils dilated in panic. She immediately turned toward the lake, ready to jump in. But Oliver let out a dramatic, terrified wail. “Sophie! Oh my god, Sophie, what’s wrong?!” Phoebe’s entire body froze. She completely completely changed direction. She scooped up a perfectly fine Sophie and ran toward the parking lot, shouting at her personal assistant over her shoulder to fish my dad out. I sat on the concrete, staring blankly at her retreating back. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and ripped my heart entirely in half. Mom. Are you really throwing us away? After my dad was rescued and rushed to the hospital, I sat in the waiting room. I pulled a crumpled ten-dollar bill from my pocket and handed it to a young nurse. “Excuse me, miss? Can you be my mom for today and help take care of my daddy?” The nurse looked at me, her eyes full of pity. “Sweetheart, where is your real mom?” My voice was completely dead. “My mom is dead.” My mom died the exact second she turned her back on my drowning father. One day until we leave. My dad had packed our suitcases and finalized our visas. For the past few days, Phoebe had come to the hospital every single afternoon to visit my dad. When she saw the nurse I had hired acting as my “mom”, her face twisted in absolute disgust. “Jessica has a mother! Are you so sexually frustrated you just have to hire random women to play house?!” My dad and I didn’t say a word. The nurse simply cursed her out and told her to leave. Later, Phoebe came back with bags of expensive designer clothes for my dad and high-end toys for me. We took every single bag and gave them to the kids in the pediatric oncology ward next door. Phoebe never knew. Five hours until our flight. My dad checked himself out of the hospital early and took me to the massive amusement park I had been begging to visit for years. “Jessica, I know you have always wanted to come here. I am so sorry my illness kept making me delay it.” I smiled so wide my front teeth showed. Just then, my smartwatch buzzed. It was a text from Phoebe. “Jessica, tell Daddy that I sent Oliver out of the country today. He is gone.” “I am going to take you guys out to a fancy dinner tonight to make up for the birthdays.” A tiny ripple of emotion hit my chest. But then, I looked across the plaza. Standing right outside a luxury boutique, I saw Phoebe walking arm-in-arm with Oliver, laughing and carrying shopping bags. I didn’t tell my dad. I just hit the block button on my watch. Mom is a liar. Again. My dad and I were just getting in line for a ride when the park’s emergency sirens started wailing. A wave of screaming people rushed past us. Four massive, rabid dogs with bloodshot eyes and foaming mouths had broken through a security fence and were charging straight into the crowd. My dad grabbed my hand, trying to pull me toward an exit. But the panicked mob shoved us violently apart. “Jessica!” Pure terror glued my feet to the pavement. My legs completely gave out. Suddenly, I heard Phoebe screaming from the upper balcony of a nearby restaurant. “Jessica! Run! Come to Mommy! Up here!” Tears of relief flooded my eyes. I pushed myself up and started running toward the stairs where she was standing. But Oliver screamed from the other side of the balcony. “Phoebe! Sophie is trapped down there! You have to save her!” Phoebe looked at me running up the steps, then looked back at Sophie, who was frozen near a food cart. My dad’s voice was completely shredded as he roared from the crowd. “Phoebe! Grab Jessica! Sophie’s bodyguard is right next to her!” Phoebe’s face twisted in agony. She looked right into my eyes. “Jessica, just wait right there!” Wait right there. Wait. Again. She spun on her heels, sprinting in the opposite direction to grab Sophie, disappearing into the restaurant. The four rabid dogs locked their eyes on me, surrounding me in a tight circle. My heart died completely. Right as the beasts lunged at me, my dad burst through the crowd like a maniac, wielding a shattered wooden broom handle. He threw himself over my body. The vicious dogs tore into his legs, their teeth sinking deep into his flesh. Hot blood soaked right through my clothes. Even as they tore him apart, he just held my head against his chest, smiling through the unbearable pain. “Don’t be scared, baby. Daddy is right here…” I was sobbing so violently I was convulsing. The dogs pulled back for another strike. Suddenly, a dozen heavily armed private security guards swarmed the area. They used high-voltage stun batons to neutralize the animals in seconds. They rushed my dad and me to a secure medical facility. After my dad received his rabies shots and got his legs heavily bandaged, he refused to stay in a bed. Suppressing the agonizing pain, he grabbed our passports and dragged us straight to the international airport. “Jessica, we are leaving. I cannot stay in this city for another second.” As the plane’s wheels lifted off the runway, pushing us up into the clouds, I only had one thought. Mom. This time, you will never find us again.
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