For three years, I was bullied and ostracized because I refused to do the school bully’s homework. Scars layered upon scars on my wrists. The doctor said I had severe self-harm tendencies. My parents were heartbroken, losing sleep, vowing they’d sell everything they owned to get me better. But then, the bully’s mom burst into our home with a group of people, pointing her finger in my face and accusing me of seducing her son. My usually timid parents turned pale with fright, not daring to utter a single word in my defense. I hid behind them, trembling, begging Mom to close the door. Instead, Mom suddenly snapped, grabbing a teacup from the table and smashing it against my forehead: ”Flies don’t buzz around unblemished eggs. Why are you the only one out of thousands of students who always causes problems?” ”We can’t afford to provoke them, but can’t we at least avoid them? Why do you have to stir up trouble with people like that!” ”Just die, go die and we’ll all be at peace, everyone will be free!” Those words, like a bolt of lightning, shattered the last defense in my heart. I looked at Mom. Her eyes held no tenderness, only the frantic desire to shake off a burden. Then I looked at Dad. He was hiding in the corner, smoking, not even daring to look me in the eye. I suddenly laughed. ”Fine,” I whispered. ”Since you all want your ‘reputation,’ then I’ll pay with my life.” I turned and ran towards the balcony. It was the fastest I had run in seventeen years. 1 The moment my body became airborne, I felt no fear. Instead, there was a long-lost sense of lightness. Finally, no more writing Chad’s homework. Finally, no more enduring the mocking stares of my classmates. Finally, no more seeing my parents’ timid, afraid-to-make-waves expressions. As I plummeted, time seemed to stretch endlessly. On the balcony, Mom still held her hand out, pointing at me, her expression shifting from anger to stunned disbelief. Dad’s cigarette fell to the ground, his mouth agape. Mrs. Davidson’s cold sneer froze on her face. But I didn’t look back. ”Thud—” A dull, heavy impact. Followed by the sound of bones shattering. The intense pain lasted only a second, then came boundless darkness and void. I thought that was the end. But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself floating in mid-air. My body lay twisted on the concrete, blood spreading rapidly outwards like a morbidly beautiful bloom. The wound on my forehead was still there, and with the severe trauma from the fall, my face was a bloody, unrecognizable mess. Screams erupted around me. ”Ah! Someone’s dead!” ”The Millers’ daughter jumped!” A crowd quickly gathered, some pulling out phones to take pictures, others covering their eyes, unable to watch. I hovered above my body, watching the scene with cold detachment. Rushed footsteps echoed from upstairs. Mrs. Davidson and her people rushed down. Seeing the gruesome sight on the ground, she visibly flinched. But quickly, she covered her nose, recoiling several steps with an expression of disgust, pulling her bodyguards behind her. ”How unlucky! If you’re going to die, couldn’t you do it somewhere else? Why in front of me?” She even kicked one of my shoes that had flown off. ”I always said that girl had a weak constitution, such a drama queen. It’s truly an eyesore.” I wanted to rush over and tear her mouth apart. But my hand passed through her body, only stirring up a chilling gust of wind. Mrs. Davidson shivered, cursed under her breath, and left with her group. ”Come on, let’s go, quickly, don’t get tainted by this bad luck. She jumped herself, it has nothing to do with us. Don’t even think about getting money from us!” Just then, Mom and Dad stumbled down the stairs. I thought they would rush to my side, weeping. I thought they would regret the words they had just spoken. But I was wrong. Mom rushed out of the building entrance, saw the shocking red puddle on the ground, and her first reaction wasn’t to scream or to run over and embrace me. Instead, she clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes darting around in terror. She was looking at the neighbors. She was looking at the crowds pointing fingers. Dad’s legs were so weak he couldn’t stand, collapsing to his knees about six feet away from me. His hands trembled as he tried to reach for a cigarette in his pocket, but he couldn’t find one. ”How… how are we supposed to show our faces after this…?” Dad murmured to himself. Not because he was heartbroken for me, but because he felt “humiliated.” ”Michael, call an ambulance!” shouted Mr. Henderson, our neighbor. Dad finally reacted, fumbling for his phone, pressing several times before finally dialing 91
”Hello… my daughter… she fell from the building…” The ambulance arrived quickly. The paramedic flipped my eyelids, checked for a pulse, and shook her head. ”Pupils dilated, neck broken, died instantly.” A white sheet was draped over my face. The moment the sheet covered me, I saw Mom roll her eyes back and pass out. Not from overwhelming grief. It was because of Mrs. Davidson’s parting shout of “Don’t even think about getting money from us,” and the neighbors’ murmurs of “How could that child be so foolish?” She had ‘fainted’ from the shock of the gossip. 2 The police arrived shortly after, cordoning off the area. A young officer walked over to inquire about the situation. ”Are you a family member of the deceased? Why did your child jump? Was there anything unusual before this?” Dad squatted on the ground, hands clasped over his head, dirt clinging between his fingers. He didn’t dare look the officer in the eye, stammering: ”No… nothing unusual.” ”Lily… Lily had depression, she was under a lot of academic pressure, we couldn’t manage her…” ”It was an accident, she just… she just couldn’t cope…” I floated in mid-air, watching the man who had brought me into this world. To avoid trouble, to avoid being drawn into a “bullying” investigation, for his pathetic “reputation.” He actually pinned the label of “depression” on me himself. Washing Chad’s family’s hands completely clean of any wrongdoing. I opened my mouth wide, letting out a silent scream. Bloody tears streamed down my face. Dad, I’m already dead. Are you still going to use my innocence to buy your so-called “peace”? My body was taken away by the funeral home vehicle. The crime scene tape was removed, and the crowd dispersed. Only a dark red bloodstain remained on the ground, glaring under the setting sun. Mom and Dad returned to our apartment upstairs. Mom had already woken up. She sat on the sofa, her eyes staring blankly, mumbling repeatedly: ”It’s over now, the whole neighborhood knows…” ”Everyone will be gossiping about us when we step outside from now on…” The room was a complete mess. The broken ceramic shards were still on the floor, the very weapon that crushed my last hope. The tea spill hadn’t dried yet, mixed with my blood. Dad lit one cigarette after another, filling the room with smoke. ”Knock, knock, knock.” Someone was at the door. Dad flinched, startled, the cigarette burning his hand. ”Who… who is it?” ”Michael, it’s me, Mrs. Jenkins from downstairs.” A curious voice came from outside. Dad didn’t dare open the door, shouting through it: “Mrs. Jenkins, the house is a mess, it’s not convenient.” ”Oh, we just wanted to see what happened. What a foolish thing Lily did…” ”Did I hear it was because of an early romance? With a rich kid?” ”I knew it, she looked innocent, but she was probably a troublemaker…” Even through the door, I could hear the malicious glee in their voices. Mom jumped up from the sofa like a cat with its tail stepped on. ”No! No early romance! My Lily was just under too much study pressure!” She screamed at the door, her voice shrill and slightly distorted. The voices outside quieted, turning into hushed whispers, then the sound of footsteps fading away. Mom gasped for breath, turning around to face the living room. Her gaze fell on the bloodstain on the floor. It was from when the teacup smashed my head. ”Quick, clean this up.” Mom frantically grabbed a mop and rags, knelt on the floor, and scrubbed at the bloodstain with all her might. As if cleaning the blood could erase everything that had just happened. As if leaving no trace meant no one would know she had personally smashed her daughter’s head. ”Sarah, don’t clean it…” Dad said, his voice hoarse. ”What do you mean, don’t clean it? What will the neighbors think if they come in tomorrow!” Mom cried as she scrubbed, her tears falling onto the floor, mixing with my blood. ”This damn girl, even in death she can’t make things easy for us…” ”She just had to make a scene at home, just had to make a scene in front of Mrs. Davidson…” ”Now look, everyone’s laughing at us, are you happy now!” I floated on top of the wardrobe, watching her coldly. Even at this moment, she was blaming me. Blaming me for being disobedient, blaming me for embarrassing her. Suddenly, the doorbell rang again. This time, it was the police. 3 They were two uniformed officers, here to take further statements and collect evidence. Mom and Dad immediately stopped arguing, their faces adopting that timid, deferential expression I hated most. ”Officers, please come in, have a seat,” Dad said, bowing slightly. The officers stepped inside, looking around. Their eyes immediately landed on the broken ceramic shards and the bloodstain that hadn’t been completely wiped away. ”What happened here?” one officer asked, pointing at the floor. “Was there an argument?” My heart leaped to my throat. Tell them! Tell them Mrs. Davidson broke in with her people! Tell them she attacked me! Tell them you forced me! If you just tell them, the police will investigate, and Chad won’t get away with it! But Mom spoke first. ”No… no argument.” ”My hand slipped, and I accidentally broke the cup.” ”Lily… she accidentally stepped on a shard and cut her foot.” The officer frowned: “Cut her foot? The medical examiner’s preliminary report indicates a blunt force trauma to the deceased’s forehead.” Mom’s face instantly turned ashen. Dad quickly interjected, speaking rapidly: ”She… she was agitated and hit her head herself! She ran into the corner of the table!” ”Officers, it really was an accident. Lily had always been sick, we even took her to see doctors…” To cover up the lie, Dad even pulled out a bottle of his own sleeping pills from a drawer. ”See, these are the pills she used to take.” The officer took the pill bottle, glanced at it, and looked suspiciously at the sweating couple. But because it was a suicide, and the family insisted there was no dispute, actively trying to smooth things over. The officers eventually just sighed, making a few brief notes. ”Since the family has no objections, please proceed with the funeral arrangements as soon as possible.” The police left. The moment the door closed, Dad seemed to deflate, losing all his strength and collapsing onto the floor. He pulled something from his pocket. It was my phone. The screen was completely shattered, the casing bent. It was one of my belongings the police had found downstairs and given to him. Dad tried to turn it on. The screen flickered a few times, let out a screeching electrical sound, then went completely dark. Dad let out a long sigh of relief. He actually sighed with relief! He stood up, walked to the trash can, and unhesitatingly threw the phone inside. ”It’s better if it’s broken,” he mumbled under his breath. ”So no one finds anything scandalous inside. If the police find any evidence of a secret relationship, how are we supposed to show our faces?” He piled rotten vegetable leaves on top of the phone, then tied the trash bag shut. My heart, along with that trash bag, died completely. Even before the seven-day mourning period was complete, the house no longer felt like a place where someone had died. Mom became like someone with OCD, frantically cleaning the house. She packed all my clothes, books, and stuffed animals into large black plastic bags. She wanted to erase all traces of me from the house. As if by not seeing my things, life could return to the “normal” that pleased her. ”Let’s just throw all this out, keeping it just brings bad luck,” Mom muttered to herself as she tidied up. She picked up my backpack, the one I hadn’t been able to part with even in my last moments. The zipper wasn’t fully closed. ”Clatter.” A notebook fell out. The cover was covered in large red X’s drawn with a marker, and in the middle, two menacing words: “BITCH.” Mom froze. Her hand hung in mid-air, her gaze fixed on those two words. It was my math notebook. She picked it up with trembling hands and opened the first page. The once neat homework was now marred by charred holes from cigarette burns. On every page, next to every problem, disgusting insults were scribbled. ”Why are you acting so holier-than-thou?” ”It’s an honor to do Chad’s homework.” ”Meet me at the field tonight. Don’t come, and I’ll make you regret it.” A crumpled piece of paper fell from a hidden pocket. It was Chad’s handwriting. Just one short line, but vicious enough to make one’s blood run cold: ”Lily Miller, your dad’s a coward, your mom’s a snob, and you, a piece of trash from a trash family, aren’t even fit to tie my shoes. Come to my room tonight, or I’ll post your naked pictures online.” Mom’s hands began to shake violently. That note was like a resounding slap across her face. She recognized Chad’s handwriting. She remembered that day when Mrs. Davidson pointed at me, calling me a “seductress.” She remembered that day when I knelt, begging her: “Mom, I really didn’t, he forced me.” Memories flooded back like a tide. That day, to appease Mrs. Davidson, she slapped me across the face and told me to shut up. That day, she raised the teacup and told me to die. ”Ugh…” Mom clutched the notebook, a wounded animal-like whimper escaping her throat. She suddenly collapsed to her knees, staring intently at the phrase, “your mom’s a snob.” ”No… it’s not like that…” Dad came in from the balcony, alerted by the sound. ”What’s wrong? Why are you crying and making a scene just for cleaning up?” He walked over impatiently and immediately saw the note. Dad’s face instantly went ashen, and the cigarette in his hand dropped to the floor, burning a black mark.
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