I was a child from a single-parent home. Mom always said I was her hope, bought at the cost of half her life. To pay for my ridiculously expensive prep courses, she worked three jobs a day. Her hands were raw and cracked, she wouldn’t even splurge on a pair of socks for herself. Our walls were plastered with ‘Straight A’s or Else!’ posters, making the whole place feel like a prison. I got a 99% on my final exam, the highest score in the entire school. When I got home, all I wanted was five minutes of sleep on the couch. The moment Mom saw my eyes close, she instantly tore my test paper to shreds. Her scream pierced my eardrums: “I slave away to support you, and you have the nerve to sleep? Where did that point go? You’re bleeding me dry!” She lit the curtains like a maniac, threw all my books into a fire pit, and locked the front door. “You want to sleep, huh? Wake up in this fire! If you don’t get a perfect score, we’ll die together!” Thick smoke filled my nostrils. I watched Mom’s twisted face in the flickering flames and stopped calling for help.
The flames shot up the synthetic curtains like a greedy red snake, licking at the countless award certificates plastered all over the walls. The edges of those certificates curled, blackened, and fell as ash. It was like a black snow. Mom had already retreated outside the door. She was frantically pounding on the steel door, even kicking it. Not to save me, but to make me give in. “Ashley! Do you understand what you did wrong?” “Tell me loudly, will you get a perfect score next time?” “Say it! Say it, and I’ll let you out!” Her voice, muffled and shrill through the metal door, sounded like nails scraping a chalkboard. I huddled by the couch in the corner, the intense heat causing a strange, phantom pain on my exposed skin. My throat seized up from the thick smoke, each breath like swallowing burning coals. I wanted to speak, but no sound came out. Even if it could, I wouldn’t say anything. I was too tired. Honestly, just too tired. I remembered half an hour ago, I just wanted to lie on the couch for five minutes. Just five minutes. To prepare for this test, I hadn’t touched my bed in three days, so tired I felt like I was floating when I walked. But now, it was so hot around me, yet I felt a cold shiver deep inside. I saw the shredded 99% test paper curl in the fire pit, that bright red “99” turning into a heap of black ash. I thought about going to the bathroom to wet a towel. My survival instinct made me move my leg. Then I saw the empty doorframe. The bathroom door? Mom had ripped it off last month. She said I took too long in there, probably secretly reading novels or hiding from vocabulary drills. How was I supposed to hide with no privacy at all? And now, the water source was on the other side of the inferno. The fire was too big; Mom had poured alcohol on it to fuel it earlier. I couldn’t get through. I leaned back against the corner, watching the flames devour my desk. It was my battlefield, and my execution ground. Now, let it all burn. The pounding outside the door continued, accompanied by loud kicks. “Ashley, you’re being stubborn, huh?” “Not going to talk, huh?” “Fine, let’s see how long you can last!” “You ungrateful brat! Even a dog knows how to wag its tail. I should’ve gotten a dog instead of you!” I’d heard those words for seventeen years. As long as I could remember, they were served with every meal. Before, I would cry, I would beg her on my knees, I would swear I’d get a perfect score next time. But today, I didn’t want to kneel. Rather than crawl out to face her yelling, to face the endless practice questions, to face her perpetually disappointed eyes. I’d rather just sleep here. My consciousness began to fade. My body felt so heavy, like it was filled with lead, yet also like I was floating on clouds. Finally, I could rest. Even on the scorching floor. Even surrounded by deadly toxic smoke. Through the door crack, it was no longer air seeping in, but her desperate, screaming curses. “Why don’t you just die! You’re a waste of space just living!” Mom, as you wished. I’m really going to die. In the last blurry moment of my vision, I saw a corner peeking out of my backpack’s side pocket. That small, silver tin box. It was the hand cream I’d saved three months of breakfast money to buy. I wanted to put it on her hands, those hands covered in cracks. I wanted to tell her, Mom, I feel for you too. But there was no chance now. Darkness surged like a tide, completely engulfing me. I closed my eyes in the raging fire, with a light smile. This sleep, finally, no one could wake me from.
My soul seemed to float upwards. It was light, cool, weightless. I floated on the ceiling, looking down at the small body curled up below. It was dark, like a piece of burnt charcoal. The commotion outside the door grew louder. Mr. Peterson, our neighbor, smelled smoke and was frantically slamming the door with a fire extinguisher. “Open up! Quick, open up! Eleanor, what are you doing?” “Can’t you see there’s a fire in there? The kid is still inside!” But Mom clung to the doorknob, like a wild animal guarding its kill, hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot. “Don’t interfere! This is my family business!” “She’s reflecting! She hasn’t begged for mercy, so she hasn’t learned her lesson yet!” “None of you are getting in! If she gets spoiled, how will she get into college? How will she ever make something of herself?” Mr. Peterson’s face turned purple with rage. He shoved her away. “You’ve lost your mind! Someone’s going to die!” Mom stumbled but still screamed, “She won’t die! She’s just faking it! That brat is such an actress!” “Last time she had a 104-degree fever, she was just faking it to get out of vocabulary drills!” The hallway was in chaos. Someone called 911, others were trying to break up the fight. Mom was being held back, still cursing. “What are you calling 911 for? Who dares to call 911?” “If you break the door, are you going to pay for it? That security door costs over two thousand bucks!” “Ashley! Get out here! Don’t think you’ve won just because I won’t go into the fire!” I looked at her twisted face, feeling no ripple of emotion inside. Before, seeing her angry would make me tremble. Now, I just found it pathetic. The firefighters arrived. Their orange uniforms stood out starkly in the hallway. Hydraulic cutters brutally sheared through the deformed security door. “Pfft—” High-pressure water hoses blasted in, and billows of white smoke poured out. The choking smell of smoke permeated the entire hallway. Mom collapsed on the floor, letting out a cold scoff. “Oh, you’ve gotten so clever, learning to team up with strangers to scare your own mother with fire.” “When she comes out, I’ll break her legs.” The fire was put out quickly. After all, the apartment wasn’t big, and there wasn’t much to burn. The room was a mess. The once pristine white walls were now black as ink. All the ‘Perfect Score,’ ‘Ivy League,’ ‘Top University’ slogans plastered on the walls were gone, burned away. Only mottled black ash remained, like mocking ghost faces. The firefighters entered the room. A few minutes later, two firefighters emerged, their faces grim, carrying something. It was my body. Curled, charred, stiff. To protect the backpack in my arms, my posture was strange, like a shrimp boiled alive. The neighbors gasped, some aunts covered their mouths, tears streaming down their faces. The air was deathly still. Only the lingering smoke drifted. Mom climbed up from the floor, dusting off her pants. She rushed over, a look of victorious fury on her face. Not to embrace me, not to check for injuries. She raised her hand and slapped the “black figure” on the head. “Faking death? Ashley, get up!” “Don’t think playing dead will get you out of reviewing!” “Were you feeling smug just now? Letting you keep silent! Letting you defy me!” “Smack!” The slap was crisp and loud. It landed on the stiff corpse, with no echo, no cry of pain. My head was knocked to the side, still maintaining that curled posture. The firefighters froze. The neighbors froze. The whole world went silent. Only Mom was still panting heavily, pointing at my face and yelling: “Don’t pretend! I’ll count to three, if you don’t get up, I’ll sign you up for double the advanced math classes tomorrow!” I floated in the air, watching the scene. Mom, this time, I really can’t get up. Even if you sign me up for ten times the advanced math classes, I won’t be able to get up.
Mr. Peterson, the neighbor, couldn’t bear to watch anymore. He rushed forward and grabbed Mom’s arm. “Eleanor! You’re insane! Look at Ashley!” Mom shook him off, her strength astonishing. “Get lost! I’m disciplining my child! No one interferes!” Her eyes were red, her chest heaving violently, her finger trembling as she pointed at me on the floor. “You don’t know, she’s the laziest one.” “Only 99%, what good is being first in school? That one point is the key!” “If she doesn’t get that one point back, how will she compete with others? How will she cross the single-plank bridge?” As she spoke, she pulled out the shredded test paper from her pocket, clumsily taped back together with clear tape. It was covered in black ash, the tape almost melted. She crouched down, trying to force the test paper into my charred, purplish-black hand. “Take it! Get up and redo it for me!” “I’ve prepared your mistake notebook; if you don’t finish this sheet today, don’t even think about dinner!” My hand was stiff as iron tongs. My fingers were tightly clenched into a fist, protecting what was inside my backpack. She couldn’t pry my fingers open. “Let go! Did you hear me? You’re defying your mom, huh?” She pulled hard, her fingernails digging into my burnt flesh. The surrounding firefighters finally reacted. Two young men rushed forward, trying to pull her away. “Ma’am, please calm down! The victim needs urgent medical attention!” “Urgent medical attention my ass!” Mom turned and spat at them. “She just wants to be lazy! She just wants to sleep!” “In this house, as long as she has breath in her body, she has to study!” “Even if she dies, she has to finish the test first!” She struggled free from the firefighters’ grasp and turned towards the kitchen. There was still water there. She filled a basin with cold water and, with a splash, violently threw it onto my face. “Wake up! Don’t you dare act like a corpse in front of me!” The black ash was washed away by the cold water. Revealing my pale, bloodless face. My eyes were tightly closed, my lips purple, lifeless. Water flowed into my nostrils, down my throat. Normally, I would have jumped up coughing by now. But there was no reaction. Water droplets clung to my eyelashes, like tears that would never fall. Mom’s hand visibly trembled. She froze for a second, then that neurotic smile reappeared on her face. “You’re a really good actress, Ashley.” “The Oscars owe you a trophy, don’t they?” “Fine, you can tolerate it, huh? Let’s see how long you can tolerate it!” She rushed forward and pinched my philtrum. Her fingernails dug deep into my flesh, leaving red marks, even breaking the skin. I remained motionless. Like a broken rag doll, letting her do whatever she wanted. The people around started whispering, their eyes filled with fear and disgust. They looked at Mom not as a strict mother, but as a lunatic. Mom, however, didn’t notice. She leaned close to my ear, using her usual, most effective killer move, her voice chilling: “Ashley, if you don’t get up now, I’m canceling your tutoring classes tomorrow.” “I’ll give that five hundred bucks to a dog before I spend it on you!” “If you dare make me waste money, I’ll die right here in front of you!” This was her spell that had worked a hundred times before. As soon as she mentioned dying, no matter how sick I was, I would crawl up and do my homework. Because I was afraid of her dying. I was afraid of not having a mom. But this time, the “if you don’t get up, we’ll die together” spell failed. Mom. Keep the money. Giving it to a dog is great, a dog will wag its tail at you. I only made you angry. In the distance, the wail of an ambulance siren approached, cutting through the neighborhood’s silence. Emergency doctors, carrying their bags, rushed up the stairs, pushing through the onlookers, sweat dripping from their foreheads. “Make way! Everyone, make way! Where’s the victim?” The doctor’s face fell when he saw me on the floor. He knelt down and reached for my carotid artery. No pulse. He took out his stethoscope and placed it on my smoke-covered chest. The heart beneath it, which once pounded wildly over a single lost point on an exam, which tightened at the sound of Mom’s footsteps. Now, it was finally quiet. The doctor frowned, pried open my eyelid, and shone a flashlight into it. Pupils dilated, no light reflex. The doctor sighed, checked his watch, stood up, and shook his head: “Pupils dilated, no vital signs, time of death approximately one hour ago.” “Nothing to be done. Notify the funeral home.” This simple sentence, like a clap of thunder, exploded in the narrow hallway. Everyone fell silent. Except for Mom. “Bullshit!” A sharp roar erupted. Mom charged like a cannonball, tearing at the doctor’s white coat. “What are you saying! You quack!” “She’s just sleeping! She stayed up late studying last night, she’s just tired!” “She’s only seventeen! How can she be dead! If you dare curse my daughter again, I’ll tear your mouth apart!” She frantically clawed at the doctor’s face. Two police officers quickly rushed forward and forcibly restrained her. “Ma’am! Please calm down!” The police officers pinned her against the blackened wall. Mom’s face pressed against the cold, rough surface, flushed and swollen from struggling. Her gaze was forced directly onto me, on the floor. After that basin of water was splashed, my hand had fallen from its curled state. That hand, aimed right at her face. My fingertips were melted by the heat, the skin charred and curled, revealing the stark white bone beneath. That was the hand that held pens. That was the hand that helped her wash dishes. That was the hand that countless times tried to hold hers, only to be shaken off because she found it sweaty. At this moment, she finally saw clearly. That wasn’t sleep. A living person’s hand wouldn’t reveal bone. “Ash… Ashley?” Her voice suddenly softened, as faint as a mosquito’s buzz.
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