I was born with an intellectual disability and congenital analgesia, the inability to feel pain. Since I was a child, I had been the human punching bag who took beatings meant for my younger sister.

Whenever my sister was caught sneaking snacks, Mom would grab me by the hair and slam my head against the wall.

Blood would run down my face from my head, yet I never made a sound.

When my sister was caught cheating in an exam, Mom whipped me with a belt the entire afternoon.

My skin split and my flesh torn, yet I could still manage a smile.

Every time she saw me covered in injuries, my sister would throw her arms around me tightly and cry her eyes out. She would say she was wrong and promise never to misbehave again.

Mom would be pleased at that, convinced she had disciplined us well.

And so, for sixteen years, I had endured every punishment meant for my sister.

Until the latest monthly exam, when my sister dropped a place in the rankings.

Mom called her over as usual and, out of habit, she raised her hand toward me.

The slap sent the back of my head crashing into the corner of a cabinet, and blood spilled across the floor.

Through my fading consciousness, I saw Mom nodding in satisfaction and pulling my sister, who was wailing her heart out, to her feet.

“There, there. Stop crying. You’ve had your punishment. Let’s go eat something nice and calm yourself.”

Watching their retreating figures, my eyelids grew heavier by the second.

It seemed to hurt a little this time.

I’d better get well soon…

After all, they’d need me again the next time my sister made another mistake.

When I opened my eyes again, I was floating in mid-air.

Another version of myself lay on the floor, cold and stiff, as a pool of dark red blood spread beneath the back of my head.

I knew I was dead.

Yet even now, I still felt no pain.

As I drifted toward the front door, I saw Mom leading my younger sister out by the hand.

My sister kept looking back over her shoulder with tears streaming down her face.

Mom gave an impatient tug.

“Stop looking. He’s fine. What harm can a slap do? Come on, I’ll take you out for something good to eat.”

Soon, the door closed behind them.

I drifted out after them.

Mom took my sister to a dessert shop, the one I’d always wanted to visit.

The place was crowded.

Mom found a table in the corner and pushed the menu toward my sister.

“Order whatever you want.”

My sister kept her head down, unmoving, with a vacant gaze.

Mom sighed and, in a voice much softer than it was at home, she said, “Bella, I know you’re hurting inside. But you have to understand me. Your father ran off with that vixen. Every cent we had went with him. Do you think it’s been easy for me, a woman, to do all these alone?”

Bella remained silent.

Mom continued, “You’re my only hope now. If you don’t make something of yourself, who else is going to make me proud? With your brother the way he is, can anyone really rely on him?

“As long as you succeed in life, sooner or later, you’ll get a share of your father’s inheritance. In this lifetime, I couldn’t hold onto your dad’s heart. If I can’t even secure some of that money, then I would’ve been a complete failure.”

She paused before adding in a lower voice, “Don’t blame me for being harsh. You’re fraternal twins and bound by blood. I’m only doing this so you’ll remember your lesson. Only then will you know the value of hard work.”

Bella gripped the menu so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

I floated beside them, listening and feeling a pang of unease.

All these years, ever since our parents divorced, Mom had been a father and a mother to us, raising my sister and me on her own.

Born with an intellectual disability and congenital analgesia, the inability to feel pain, I had been a constant burden on the family all these years.

So when Mom hit me, I had never blamed her. On the contrary, I was glad, because then it meant that a fool like me could be of some use.

I couldn’t make my mother proud, but Bella could. Perhaps for my sake, she would study hard and make Mom happy.

Just then, a waitress brought over two drinks.

Mom accepted them, then suddenly seemed to have remembered something and turned to look at the counter.

“The strawberry cake, could you pack up a slice for me?”

As she spoke, she looked down and rummaged through her purse, making sure she had enough change inside before letting out a sigh of relief.

She muttered to herself, “I was a bit too harsh this time. I’ll have a good chat with him when we get home. It should all be fine.”

Bella suddenly raised her head with red-rimmed eyes. She tried to say something, then closed her mouth again.

I watched as Mom carefully placed the boxed cake into a bag.

Strawberry cake.

My absolute favorite.

Mom still remembered.

It was a shame I wouldn’t be able to eat it anymore.

I swallowed instinctively, feeling a little regret.

When we got home, my bedroom door was still firmly shut.

Mom walked up to the door, cleared her throat, and her voice was unusually gentle.

“Ray? Does your face still hurt? I’ve got you some strawberry cake. It’s your favorite.”

A few seconds passed without any response.

Mom waited a little longer, then continued, “Tomorrow is your birthday and your little sister’s. I’ve gone a bit too far today, but you know I didn’t mean it. I’ll leave the cake by the door, so come out and eat. Don’t be angry anymore.”

The room remained silent with no response whatsoever.

Seeing this, Mom sighed and bent down to place the cake box by the doorway. She then turned and went back into the kitchen.

Bella stood in the hallway, staring at the door for a long time.

I hovered beside her, wanting to tell her I was right here.

Alas, she couldn’t see me, nor could she hear me.

That night was a torture to me as I stared all night at my favorite strawberry cake by the door.

Early the next morning, the main door opened and in came my father.

He was carrying two gift boxes, smiling as he walked in, “Ray, Bella, Dad’s here to celebrate your birthday!”

Mom came out of the kitchen, and upon seeing him, her expression fell.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s my daughter and son’s birthday. How could I not come?”

Dad placed the gifts on the coffee table and looked around. “Where’s Ray?”

Pointing at my room, Mom said, “In there. Sulking.”

Dad frowned. “What happened now?”

Mom didn’t answer and turned back into the kitchen.

Dad’s gaze shifted and he spotted Bella’s report card on the coffee table next to him.

“Did you hit Ray again?”

Mom poked her head out of the kitchen bearing a mocking expression. “Do you think you have a right to ask me that?”

Dad’s voice was low, laced with anger as he repeated, “I’m asking if you hit him again.”

“So what if I did? I’m disciplining my own child. What does that have to do with you?”

Mom wasn’t about to back down either.

Dad slammed the cake box onto the coffee table. “Bella’s the one who made a mistake, so why is it always Ray who gets the beating?”

Mom stormed out of the kitchen with her hands on her hips and snapped at him, “Who are you to interfere? When we divorced, didn’t you say he was a burden and didn’t want him? And now you’re playing the loving father?”

“That was—”

“What was it? Do you think I don’t know what you’re up to?”

Mom sneered. “You’re afraid I’ll raise Bella well and she’ll take away your precious son’s inheritance, aren’t you?”

Dad’s face flushed red. “That’s nonsense!”

The two of them were at each other’s throats.

Bella cowered into the corner, clutching the gift box tightly, saying nothing with her head lowered.

I floated nearby and watched them argue.

I felt powerless as I wanted to intervene.

Arguments like this had never ended, from the day I was born through their divorce and all the way till now.

As I drifted aimlessly, my gaze suddenly fell upon the gap beneath my bedroom door.

A small dark red patch was slowly spreading out from under it.

Bella saw it too.

She froze. Her face was paler by the second, staring at the deep crimson puddle.

“Enough!”

Dad slammed his hand on the coffee table so hard it shook the cups, which nearly toppled over.

“I’m taking Ray with me today! You are not fit to be a mother!”

With that, he reached for my bedroom doorknob.

My heart skipped a beat, and I hurriedly drifted to stop him.

Mom and Bella would be devastated if they found out I was dead!

But the next moment, Mom grabbed hold of Dad. “Don’t you dare!”

“Watch me!”

The two of them began to struggle. Dad was stronger and shoved her aside, once again already reaching for the knob.

Bella suddenly rushed forward and stood in front of the door.

Her voice was hoarse and trembling, “Stop it, you two!”

Our parents froze.

Bella kept her head down as her shoulders shook violently, but she forced her voice to remain steady.

“Ray could be asleep. Let him rest.”

Mom frowned. “Why on earth would he be sleeping in broad daylight?”

Bella didn’t respond, nor looked at Mom. She just stood there blocking the door.

Dad looked between the two of them.

In the end, he muttered through gritted teeth, “Fine. I won’t argue with you. But if anything happens to Ray, I’ll never let you off the hook!”

With that, he slammed the main door and left.

Mom spat in disgust before storming over to my room, banging on it twice.

“Raiden Stone! Get out here! What are you playing at? Don’t want the cake. Door locked. What do you think you’re doing?”

Another enduring silence and Mom blew her top.

“If you dare, then don’t ever come out!”

She panted heavily, then turned to Bella.

“What are you looking at? Go and do your homework!”

Bella slowly walked to her room. Before closing the door, she glanced at my room one last time.

The living room fell silent.

Mom sat on the sofa, seething in anger. It was quite a while before she picked up her mobile phone to vent to someone.

I was watching it all as I was floating in the air.

I wanted to call out to them but no sound came out.

I wanted to cry, but my tears passed straight through my face, never reaching the floor.

So this was what it felt like to be a ghost.

If only I were still alive. Apart from not being able to feel pain, I could still feel everything else.

The following afternoon, Bella came home from school.

Her face looked awful. From her bag, she pulled out an exam paper.

Hearing the noise, Mom walked out of the kitchen and took a look. Her expression immediately darkened.

“Dropped another rank?”

Saying nothing, Bella kept her head lowered with her face as white as a sheet.

Mom finally slammed the paper onto the coffee table, took a deep breath, and turned to head toward my room.

“Raiden, come out. Same rules. Your sister messed up again.”

No answer.

“Raiden Stone!”

Still no answer.

Feeling frantic, I paced around the door, yet I couldn’t touch a single thing at all!

If the door opened, Mom would see that I was dead.

If I didn’t open the door, however, who would take the punishment for Bella?

Seeing no reaction, Mom was absolutely livid.

“You’re getting bolder now, aren’t you, Raiden? Giving me an attitude now, huh? You think that by keeping the door closed, you can avoid the beating? I’ll show you a good lesson today!”

Fuming, Mom stepped back and was ready to kick the door down with all her might.