When I was four, my younger brother, Noah, and I both drowned. Only I survived, and from that day on, Mom hated me. At night, countless times, she’d try to force colorful “sweets” into my mouth, but Dad always stopped her just in time. Later, I cut off my long hair, shed my princess dresses, and tried desperately to live as Noah’s shadow. Only then would Mom spare me a glance. Three years passed. Mom became pregnant again, announcing that her beloved Noah had returned! I was happy for her. Noah was coming back, which was great… Because then, this family wouldn’t need me, the replacement, anymore. I found the “sweets” Mom had once tried to feed me, and quietly swallowed them. The “sweets” dissolved in my mouth, releasing a bitter taste. I couldn’t help but hunch over, dry heaving, bile and saliva rising to my lips. These were the pills Mom had hidden in the deepest part of her closet three years ago. Back then, she would often sit by my bed late at night, her eyes vacant, whispering: “Why aren’t you dead yet?” Now, I was finally fulfilling Mom’s obsession. I wore a boy’s school uniform, its collar frayed. It was Noah’s old uniform, long outgrown, but Mom said… I had to keep wearing it to be more like him. Mom’s laughter, a tenderness I’d never heard directed at me, echoed from the living room. She was stroking her stomach, talking to Dad, Robert: “The doctor said it’s definitely a boy this time. Look how stable the pregnancy is.” Her voice was sickeningly sweet. “Soon… I won’t have to look at that blight on our family’s face ever again.” I wanted one last look at Mom’s smiling face. Just as I reached the doorway, Dad saw me first, his brow furrowing. “Scarlett, why aren’t you doing your homework?” His gaze swept over my uniform, then quickly flicked away, as if he’d seen something offensive. Mom turned, her smile freezing instantly. “Who told you to come out? Your hair’s grown out again. Didn’t I tell you to cut it short, just like Noah’s buzz cut?” She hurried over, her finger jabbing hard at my head. “Always causing trouble. When Noah is born, if you dare to bother him, I’ll break your legs.” I flinched back, the red mark on my forehead stinging. The “sweets” in my stomach seemed to be dissolving, a throbbing pain rising in my abdomen, forcing me to bend over. Dad started to come to my aid, but Mom blocked him. “Don’t touch her. She’s probably just faking it for sympathy.” I bit my lip, saying nothing, slowly retreating to my room. With every step, my stomach felt like it was being twisted by knives. My limbs began to go numb, and even my hands clutching the doorframe trembled uncontrollably. I lay on the bed, my body starting to twitch. The door pushed open. It was Dad, holding a glass of warm water. He placed the glass on my nightstand, hesitating for a long moment before saying, “Scarlett, your mom is pregnant. Her emotions are a bit volatile, so don’t take it to heart.” I shook my head, but only a weak whimper escaped. Dad’s figure began to blur in my vision. Dad sighed, then simply pulled the blanket over me. “Get some good sleep. You’ll be fine tomorrow.” He closed the door as he left, and silence enveloped the room. I reached under my pillow for the small toy car, Noah’s favorite. Most of its paint had chipped off, but I polished it clean every day. Mom said it was Noah’s, and I had to keep it safe. Last time, when a classmate tried to take it, I fought desperately, taking a beating to get it back. Gradually, my vision blurred completely. I hugged the toy car tightly and closed my eyes. Mom, Noah is coming back. You won’t have to suffer looking at me, your replacement, anymore. This way, it’s truly good.
Slowly, I felt the pain fade away. Like a dandelion seed carried by the wind, I floated gently into the air, clearly seeing the small body on the bed. The crumpled school uniform clung to her, her face as white as paper, her lips an unnatural purplish-blue. A smudge of undigested bile still clung to the corner of her mouth, and in her hand, she clutched that small toy car. Mom pushed the door open just as I was looking down at my own hands. They were transparent, allowing the sunlight to pass through them, revealing a photo of Noah. She didn’t glance at me on the bed. Instead, she walked straight to the desk, picked up Noah’s photo, and meticulously wiped it clean, murmuring, “Noah, Mom’s going to buy you a new bassinet today. Do you like blue or yellow?” She turned to leave, accidentally kicking the bedframe. Only then did she impatiently glance at me on the bed, frowning. “Still sleeping? The sun’s practically noon. Get up and make breakfast. Do you want to starve Noah and me?” I floated in front of her, trying to speak, but she couldn’t hear me. She shuffled out in her slippers, still humming a lullaby. From the living room, I heard Dad, Robert, scrambling eggs, and Mom’s, Claire’s, instructions: “Add two more spoonfuls of sugar. Noah always loved sweets.” I floated to the kitchen doorway, watching Dad put pancakes on a plate—they were heart-shaped. I used to love pancakes like that, too, but ever since Noah died, Dad had only made round ones. He said Noah didn’t like anything fancy. Mom took the plate, carefully placing it in the center of the dining table, as if worshipping a precious artifact. “Go wake her up for breakfast,” Mom told Dad, her tone full of impatience. “Don’t let her make us late for buying Noah’s bassinet.” Dad put down his glass of milk and walked towards my room. I followed behind him, watching him stand by the bed, reaching out his hand, then letting it fall onto the blanket instead. “Scarlett, time to get up.” His voice was soft. “We’re going to buy a bassinet today. Do you want to come with us?” The me on the bed didn’t stir. Dad’s fingers trembled, and he nudged my shoulder. “Scarlett?” Mom’s voice came from the living room. “What’s taking so long? Is she faking sleep again?” She hurried in, saw Dad frozen by the bed, and immediately flared up. “She’s definitely faking it! She just doesn’t want us to buy Noah a bassinet! Let’s just go without her. Noah is waiting!” Dad didn’t move. He looked at me on the bed, very agitated. “She’s our daughter too!” “She is not!” Mom shrieked. “My only child is Noah! She’s the one who killed Noah!” She grabbed the photo from the desk and smashed it to the floor. Glass shards cut Dad’s hand. Dad didn’t say a word, just quietly picked up the fragments, wrapping his wound with a tissue. The living room phone rang. It was Ms. Rodriguez, my teacher, from school. Mom answered, her tone immediately softening. “Hello, Ms. Rodriguez, is this about Noah… oh no, I mean, about Scarlett?” Hearing the teacher ask why I hadn’t been to school, Mom’s voice turned cold again. “She’s just intentionally skipping school. Ms. Rodriguez, please don’t bother with her. Let her fend for herself.” She hung up the phone, then pulled Dad outside. “Let’s go. Don’t let her make us late for buying Noah’s bassinet.” Dad looked back at my room, his steps faltering, but Mom pulled him away. The moment the door closed, I saw Dad wipe his eyes. The house was eerily silent, only the ticking of the wall clock breaking the stillness. I floated to the bedside, looking at myself. My face was still round, but it was so gaunt it was unrecognizable, my chin unnaturally sharp. My hair had grown quite a bit, covering my eyes, not short as Mom demanded. I remembered the last haircut. The stylist accidentally cut it a bit too short, and Mom had yelled at him, saying he’d ruined Noah’s look. When we got home, she made me kneel for two hours, then told me I wasn’t worthy of having hair like Noah’s. As I knelt there, looking at Noah’s photo, I suddenly felt very distant.
In the afternoon, Mom and Dad returned, carrying a blue bassinet embroidered with little bears. Mom couldn’t stop smiling, placing the bassinet in the center of the living room and telling Dad, “Noah will definitely love this. He always loved sleeping with a teddy bear.” Dad glanced at my room, then quietly asked, “Shouldn’t we check on Scarlett?” Mom’s face instantly hardened. “Why check on her? She’ll come out when she’s hungry.” She sat by the bassinet, gently rocking it, humming a lullaby, her eyes filled with a tenderness that could melt. I floated closer, looking at the blue bassinet. It was small, delicate, just what Noah would have liked. Mom used to say she’d buy it for his birthday, but Noah left before his birthday came. Now the bassinet was finally here, and its little owner would soon return in another form. Mom suddenly looked up, as if sensing something, and glanced towards where I was. I quickly floated to the ceiling. Her gaze swept over the empty living room, then she frowned and lowered her head, continuing to rock the bassinet. “Noah, Mom is waiting for you to come back,” she whispered. “I’ll never let you leave again.” I looked at her profile, feeling no sadness at all. Mom was finally getting her Noah back. And I, the replacement, was finally fading away for good. This way, everyone could find happiness. On the third morning, a knocking on the front door echoed through the house, so loud it sounded like the doorframe would splinter. I floated to the living room, watching Mom impatiently open the door. Ms. Rodriguez, my school teacher, stood outside. “Scarlett’s mom,” Ms. Rodriguez’s face was stern, “Scarlett hasn’t been to school for three days. I couldn’t reach you by phone, so I came to check.” She peered into the house. “Is Scarlett home?” Mom’s face immediately darkened. She blocked the doorway, preventing Ms. Rodriguez from entering. “She’s home, just throwing a tantrum and refusing to go to school. Please don’t worry about her; I’ll talk to her.” “It’s not about a tantrum,” Ms. Rodriguez frowned. “Last week, some students reported that Scarlett was being bullied at school. Those kids were trying to pull off her clothes and splashing cold water on her. I wanted to discuss how to handle it with you, but I couldn’t get a hold of you.” Mom jumped up like a cat whose tail was stepped on. “Don’t listen to those kids’ nonsense! Scarlett must have provoked them herself! She’s been mean-spirited since she was a child; she killed her brother, and now she wants to act pitiful at school for sympathy!” Ms. Rodriguez’s face grew even more serious. “Scarlett’s mom, I saw Scarlett’s injuries, they’re all recent. And from what I understand, Scarlett was protecting a classmate when those children bullied her. She’s very well-behaved at school and works hard. You can’t talk about her like that.” “Well-behaved, my foot!” Mom shrieked, her voice so loud it could be heard throughout the hallway. “If she were well-behaved, how would Noah have died? She’s a jinx! I shouldn’t have let her live!” Ms. Rodriguez was startled by her outburst, sighing. “If you continue like this, I’ll have no choice but to contact child protective services. Scarlett is a good child; you can’t treat her this way.” With that, she turned and left. Mom continued to curse behind her until Ms. Rodriguez’s figure disappeared down the stairwell. After closing the door, Mom trembled with rage. She walked to my bedroom door and kicked it hard. “Scarlett! Look at the trouble you’ve caused me! Now even the teacher is showing up at our door! Why don’t you just die!” I floated beside her, looking at her distorted face, and suddenly remembered the drowning incident when I was four. Noah and I fell into the river. I desperately clung to his hand, but the current was too strong, sweeping us apart. When I was rescued, I saw Mom crying, holding Noah’s lifeless body. The first thing she said to me was, “Why aren’t you dead yet?” Dad, Robert, emerged from his study, stopping Mom. “Stop yelling, the neighbors can hear you.” His voice was low. “Scarlett hasn’t eaten in three days. Let’s go check on her.” Mom shook off his hand. “Why check on her? She won’t die!” But this time, Dad didn’t listen to her. He pushed open the door and entered the room. Mom hesitated, then followed him in. Dad walked over, pulling back the blanket. Sunlight fell upon my body. I could clearly see my pale face, my purplish lips, and the dried blood at the corner of my mouth…
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