Jason felt indignant, about to retort—

Bzzz, bzzz…

Suddenly, my phone rang loudly in the bedroom.

Jason glanced at the clock on the wall. It was already after two in the afternoon.

“Weird… Mom went out without her phone? It’s way past lunch and she’s still not back…”

He walked to Emily’s door, hesitated, then knocked.

“Sis? Sis! What do you think happened to Mom? Could something really have happened?”

From inside came Emily’s sharp, impatient shout.

“Shut up already! What could possibly happen?”

Seconds later, she yanked open the door, her face twisted with frustration at being interrupted.

“She probably got pissed this morning seeing me play on my phone. She stormed out to play the runaway act, that’s all! Who’s she trying to scare?”

“Forget her. Once she calms down, she’ll crawl back tonight.”

Before Jason could reply, she slammed the door shut again.

Left in the hallway, Jason opened his mouth, then said nothing.

I don’t know how much time passed before I woke again, ripped out of darkness by searing, unbearable pain.

Each breath tugged at broken ribs, my organs felt displaced and crushed.

No—I couldn’t die like this.

I licked furiously at the tape. The beating had loosened it, and at last, I could open my mouth!

Saved! I could finally call for help!

I tried to shout “Help!” with all my strength.

But the next instant, my heart sank to ice.

My teeth… were almost all gone.

During Jason’s punches, they must have been knocked out or shattered and swallowed.

Agonizing pain shot from my jaw straight to my skull. My body convulsed.

I tried to make a sound, even the faintest hiss of breath, but with my throat and mouth so damaged, only the weakest wheeze escaped.

Tears streamed down my face.

I couldn’t die like this—silently, unnoticed!

I summoned every last ounce of strength, straining my shoulders and knees to knock against the inside of the bag.

Once, twice…

Jason was sitting on the couch fiddling with the remote when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the bag give the slightest shiver.

He froze, frowning, staring hard at it.

“Huh?”

He rubbed his eyes, checked the closed windows. No wind.

“Sis… the punching bag just… moved by itself?”

Emily’s door flew open again. She stormed out, glaring impatiently at the still bag.

By then, I had already drained the last of my strength and could no longer move.

“Moved? You blind? Which punching bag moves on its own?”

Emily shoved Jason’s head hard.

“You’re just bored out of your mind! Stop with the spooky crap. Do your own thing! If you interrupt my game again, I’ll beat you too!”

She slammed the door again.

Jason hunched his shoulders, rubbing his sore head, then squinted at the bag a few more seconds. It didn’t budge again.

“Guess I imagined it…”

Finally, he gave up and went back to his room to do homework.

By evening, David Miller came home.

He tossed his briefcase on the shoe rack, glanced at the quiet kitchen, and called out in his usual gruff tone.

“Why’s it so quiet? Didn’t your mom make dinner?”

Jason stepped out, worry flickering on his face.

“Dad, I think Mom ran away from home. She didn’t even take her phone—it’s been ringing nonstop in her room.”

“Ran away from home?”

David let out a laugh, shaking his head, utterly unconcerned.

“That temper of hers—always blowing up over nothing! Probably sulking again. Whatever. I’m starving. Got anything to eat?”

He walked straight to the fridge, found only leftovers.

In the end, he dug out a few beers and a vacuum pack of chicken wings from the pantry and sat down to eat.

The smell of food drew Emily out of her room. She sat at the table in silence, grabbing a wing.

Jason joined too.

David’s face darkened, watching his kids eat a pitiful dinner of cheap wings.

“Your mom’s getting worse! Sulking is one thing, but not cooking for her kids? What kind of mother does that? When she gets back, I’m gonna have words with her!”

His voice dripped with blame and resentment, chilling me further inside the bag.

I spun like a top every day for this family—cooking, cleaning, worrying about their health and comfort.

My devotion, invisible.

One missed meal, and I was suddenly the villain.

If he hadn’t ignored his family all these years, raised his daughter with nothing but harshness, how would Emily have become this cold and extreme?

They sat just a few feet from me, eating, complaining—without sparing the punching bag a single glance.

Soon, the wings and beers were gone.

David burped, glanced at the night outside.

“Fine, I’ll take a walk, look for your mom. What a nuisance.”

“Oh, and turn off the AC in the living room! No one’s home—it’s a waste of electricity!”

My heart clenched in terror.

The bag was airtight, a tiny sweltering cell. I had been breathing only thanks to faint trickles of cool air seeping in through the zipper.

If the AC was shut off, in this hot summer night, the heat would suffocate me.

Please—don’t turn it off! Please!

I screamed inside, praying someone would sense the danger.

At that moment, my phone rang again in the bedroom.

David clicked his tongue irritably, walked in, and picked it up.

“Margaret? Laura’s not around? It’s nothing, I just found this health supplement, good for the heart… Not too expensive, just two thousand dollars. I figured Laura and Daniel could split it, a thousand each.”

His face darkened immediately—her mother again, leeching money.

She had given their father’s entire inheritance to Daniel, yet every time she needed cash, it was Laura who had to pay.

David’s voice turned icy.

“Two thousand? You’ve got some nerve… I don’t have the money! Talk to her when she gets back. That’s it!”

He slammed the call down and tossed my phone back onto the bed like trash, muttering curses.

“Bloodsuckers, the lot of them! Do they think I’m an ATM?”

He abandoned the idea of going out to search, slamming the front door shut as though to vent all his anger on it.

David paced irritably in the living room. Suddenly, his eyes landed on the punching bag.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

He struck it hard, each punch far stronger than Jason’s. The bag shook violently.

The impact tore through the canvas and slammed into my body.

Crack!

I thought I heard the faint snap of a rib. Agonizing pain surged through me, stealing even the strength to whimper. My consciousness began to blur…

In that haze, I saw my mother’s face again—Margaret Brooks smiling gently as she placed meat in Daniel’s bowl, while casting me only impatient glances.

“You’re the eldest, you should know better. That tuition-free state school is good enough. Graduate quickly so you can support the family.”

“Did you hear me? Don’t even think about going out-of-state for college. If you dare, I’ll break your legs…”

The admission letter from a top university crumpled in my hands, then slipped silently into the trash.

Later, I graduated.

My first paycheck was only $3,500. I sent nearly all of it home, leaving myself just $500 for living expenses.

“You live in the company dorm and have a free cafeteria. Why keep so much? Two hundred a month is plenty…”

I pinched pennies. I wore shoes until they split, never daring to buy new ones.

When colleagues invited me shopping, I smiled and said, “Next time,” then went back to overtime.

When roommates split the bill for dinner, I made excuses—“I already have plans”—then wandered around a free park for two hours before returning.

At last, Daniel graduated from college, and I was preparing for my wedding.

I thought escaping my family would bring relief.

But David was a classic chauvinist. In his eyes, there was only work—nothing else mattered.

The crying children, endless chores, pressure from the job… like countless ropes tightening around me.

Time blurred, Emily entered college, Jason went to high school.

But as graduation neared, Emily failed course after course. Watching her sink deeper into mobile games filled me with panic and anger.

She, however, argued self-righteously:

“Everyone in my class lives off their parents. No school, no job, just the family paying for everything. If you can’t give me what I want, why did you even have me?”

“Why should I live like you—miserable and bitter? Why should I do chores, why can’t I fail my classes, why should I pay bills after graduation?”

“Responsibility, responsibility—blah blah blah. You’re so annoying! If you’re menopausal, go get treatment.”

Each word cut like a knife, slicing away my last fragile hope.

I was always wrong.

Sacrifice was expected; demands were natural.

My life—such a failure. A bitter, crushing failure.

Tears slipped down silently, tasting unbearably sour.

Perhaps dying like this… would be a relief.

At least I wouldn’t see my daughter’s cold eyes anymore.

At least I wouldn’t hear my husband’s constant blame.

At least I wouldn’t have to stretch every miserable dollar.

At least I wouldn’t have to endure my mother’s endless demands.

At least I wouldn’t have to imagine one day becoming a free nanny for my children’s kids, only to be despised again…

I was tired.

So very tired.

My final thread of will to live drowned under this boundless exhaustion and despair.

Slowly, I closed my eyes.

The sounds of the outside world faded away…

Bang!

David’s furious crash echoed outside—probably kicking over a trash can or chair.