I watched Mom turn and walk away.

Poking his head round the door, Daniel stuck his tongue out at me. "Bye, Irene. We're going to watch the super pretty fireworks now."

The collar around his neck was glowing bright green.

What a nice color…

With a bang, the door slammed shut. The sound of the door locking was like a blow straight to my heart.

The house became terrifyingly quiet all at once. I was the only one left at home, with my stomach aching like it was being sliced open.

Even though it hurt a lot, Mom said that machines would never lie.

My collar was red, so I really had to be lying.

It didn't hurt. This pain wasn't real. I cried while desperately telling myself those things.

After a long time had passed, it really did seem like it didn't hurt as much anymore.

I used all the strength I had to crawl toward my desk.

I needed to write a self-reflection. That was the rule in this house. Whenever the collar flashed red, I had to write a thousand words. The content was always just one sentence—"I am a liar."

Mom would forgive me once I was done, right? Maybe she would even take me to the hospital then.

With incredibly shaky hands, I opened the crumpled notebook.

It was densely filled with my past reflection essays. All I used to write were sentences like, "I'm sorry. I was wrong. I won't lie again."

But this time, I wanted to write some truths.

My vision grew blurry, and tears kept falling as I slowly wrote, "Mom, I really love you. I really am in pain. Why won't you believe me? Can you believe me just this once, Mom?"

The moment I finished writing my last word, the pain in my stomach suddenly vanished.

The feeling was replaced by a strange lightness I had never felt before. It felt like I had become weightless, and I was slowly floating upward.

Looking down, I saw myself slumped over the desk. My hand hung in mid-air, and I was perfectly still.

The collar around my neck was still flashing red nonstop.

Oh, I was already dead.

But… I still didn't know how to be an honest child.

I'm sorry, Mom.

…

The sound of laughter woke me up. It was Mom, Dad, and Daniel.

"The fireworks were so beautiful! That smiley face one was especially adorable, just like our Danny!"

Mom sounded genuinely happy, and I had never heard her use such a gentle tone before.

While floating in the air, I watched the front door open.

I instinctively drifted over to them, ready to do what I always did, which was to greet them with water. That urge to please them was practically part of me by now.

"Mom."

I spread my arms, wanting to hug her. "It doesn't hurt anymore. I'll be good from now on. Please don't be angry with me anymore."

Alas, my hands went right through her, as if she were made of nothing.

Mom abruptly shuddered. She frowned, asking, "Why is it so cold in here? Did we not turn on the heater?"

I looked down at my translucent hands.

Oh, right. I was dead. The dead couldn't touch the living.

Dad casually said, "Go check on Irene. She hasn't come out to eat. We can't actually let her go hungry."

I looked at Mom expectantly. If she found out I was dead, would she be sad? Would she feel remorse?

Letting out a cold snort, Mom walked toward my room. "If she starves, that's on her. She pretended to be sick just to get attention. That's what happens when we spoil her too much."

When she opened my door, she noticed the lights were off. With the aid of the light spilling from the living room, she spotted me slumped over my desk, motionless as if asleep.

She stood there with her arms crossed, sarcasm thick in her voice. "Oh? You're lying there now? You think acting pitiful will get me to carry you to bed? Irene, you're ten. You're no longer a five-year-old."

Standing beside her, I screamed desperately, "Mom, I'm not acting! I'm already dead! Just touch me! My body's already cold to the touch!"

But she couldn't hear me. She only believed what she wanted to see.

Daniel squeezed his way under her arm and proudly displayed his neck. "Irene is so lazy! Look, my collar is green! Irene's is still red!"

Daniel added, "Irene is always lying. She's even lying in her sleep!"

Mom patted Daniel's head, her voice turning gentle. "Our Danny's such a good boy. Leave her be. She can lie there all she wants. Let's see if she can stay like that forever."

Dad looked in from the doorway. "Should we carry her to her bed? It's winter. She'll catch a cold."

Mom cut him off instantly. "Why should we? Kids these days are just spoiled. Even the experts say so. This kind of behavior needs to be corrected with cold treatment. She has to realize her mistake on her own."

She pointed at the red light on my collar. "See this? It's still red. That means she's still acting out on the inside. She hasn't reflected at all. That's enough. Let's head to bed. We still have to visit my parents tomorrow."

She turned to leave, pulling the door shut behind her and locking it.

Floating beside my body, I stared at the glaring red light in the darkness. The chill in my heart felt colder than death itself.

If Mom had just taken one step closer and touched my hand, she would have realized that I had already gone completely cold. But she didn't.

She trusted only that emotionless device, not the daughter she carried for ten months.

In the middle of the night, a rat crawled out from the empty cabinet.

I used to be terrified of rats. I would scream every time I saw one. But now, I could only float around the ceiling, watching it crawl all over my body. "Go away…"

I weakly tried to shoo it away, but my voice failed me.

As the rat bit into my toe, dark purple blood oozed out. Still, I couldn't feel pain anymore.

How nice. Finally, there was no more pain.

Looking at my pitiful body below, I muttered, "Don't be scared. You can't feel anything anymore. It'll be over soon."

The next morning, sunlight fell on my body, though it brought no warmth.

From the kitchen came the clinking of pots and pans. Mom was making breakfast.

The smell of eggs slipped through the crack of the door. That used to be my favorite smell.

However, I was only ever allowed boiled vegetables before because Mom said liars didn't deserve anything else.

That day, she deliberately banged the spatula on the pan loudly. It was obvious that she was trying to tempt me, trying to make me come out and admit fault.

If it were before, I might really have admitted to things I didn't do just for an egg. But now, I didn't need to eat anymore.

"Irene still hasn't come out yet?" Dad asked. He was sitting at the table reading the newspaper.

Mom slammed a plate down. "No. She's as stubborn as a mule. This is all because we've spoiled her. If she doesn't want to eat, then so be it."

Daniel sipped his milk, his eyes rolling with mischief. He then ran over to my door and deliberately sniffed loudly, exclaiming exaggeratedly, "Mom, Irene's room smells so bad! Did she poop and pee in there?"

I floated by the door, looking at Daniel with a bitter smile. With the heating on full blast, I had already started to rot after just one night.

Mom would hate me even more now.

Mom walked over with a frown. She banged on my door, yelling, "Irene, are you a pig? The toilet's just right there! Do you not have legs? How could you poop in your room?

"You're seriously beyond help! Did you seriously have to do something so embarrassing just to spite me?"

I remembered that when I was little, I once had acute gastroenteritis and couldn't make it to the bathroom in time, so I ended up soiling my pants.

Mom didn't help me clean up. Rather, she made me stand in the yard and told the neighbors that I was as dirty as a pig.

Now, she thought I was dirty again.

Mom waved her hand in disgust like she was shooing a fly. "Leave her! Let her stay in that stench and choke on it!"

Dad put down his newspaper, frowning. "The smell is seriously strong. I'll go check. Maybe there's a dead rat or something."

He got up and walked toward my door, making my heart lurch in an instant.

"Dad, open the door quickly! Please look at me! I'm just beyond the door!"

If he just turned the handle, he would see that I couldn't move anymore, and he would see how dark my face had become.

I floated in front of Dad, waving frantically, trying to get his attention.

Just as his hand rested on the doorknob, the shrill sound of a phone ringing cut through the air. Dad's boss was calling.

When he answered the call, he went pale instantly. "What? The server crashed? Okay, okay! I'll be there right away!"

He hung up before grabbing his coat in a rush. "Honey, something urgent came up at work. I've got to go. I might not be back for a few days!"

"Hey, but what about Irene—"

Mom hadn't finished her sentence when Dad had already slammed the door and left.

I froze as well. He was so close. If only the call had come a second later, I would already have been found. Maybe then, I wouldn't have had to keep rotting like this.

That afternoon, Mom took Daniel out shopping, leaving my body at home. By evening, they came back with a bunch of premium seafood and gifts.

As soon as they stepped inside, they noticed that the smell had gotten even stronger.

Pinching her nose, Mom gagged a little. "Irene, are you trying to turn this house into a dump?"

She wouldn't even open my door to yell at me, as if one more glance toward my room would ruin her eyes. She grabbed a roll of wide tape, crouched down, and aggressively sealed the bottom of my door.

"If you like the stench so much, then you can stay in there and breathe it all you want! Just keep it away from us!"

After putting down the last strip of tape, she dusted off her hands in satisfaction. "That's better."

Then she went to the kitchen to cook the seafood.

I stared at the sealed door, feeling the last bit of hope in me get smothered with that strip of tape.

So to her, whether I lived or died mattered less than a seafood boil. She'd rather seal me in than check if I was dead inside.

Mom finally got what she wanted. I wouldn't bother her ever again.

On the third morning, though the winter sunlight filled the living room, it couldn't drive away the chill in the house.

The heating was cranked up to 79 degrees Fahrenheit, so it was fairly warm inside.

And because of the heat, the tape could no longer contain the thick, nauseating stench of decay.

Mom was trimming the fresh flowers she'd bought, but no matter how strong the fragrance was, it couldn't mask the odor.

With a snap, she cut the stem of a rose so hard that a thorn pierced her finger.

She finally couldn't take it anymore. In her mind, I was simply trying to gross her out and defy her by not showering, by relieving myself in my room, and by hiding dead rats in there.

"Irene, you really don't know when to stop!"

She stormed into the kitchen, grabbed a rolling pin, and stalked toward my room in a rage. "I'm going to beat you to death today, you filthy brat! Clearly, the shocks aren't enough! You need to feel real pain!"

I floated in front of her, staring at her twisted face as I desperately tried to block her path. "Don't go in, Mom! You can't! I'm hideous! I'm already rotting! It'll shock you!"

Even if she didn't love me, I still didn't want her to see me like that.

But after storming straight through me, she ripped the tape off the door, the sound harsh and grating.

She shoved the spare key into the lock and turned it before kicking the door open with a bang.

A thick, almost tangible stench of decay hit her in the face, as if she had just opened Pandora's box.

She staggered back from the smell, gagging. "Ugh! Irene, what on earth are you doing?"

She looked up to find me still in the same position from three days ago, slumped over my desk with my back to her, motionless.

She took it as me being defiant in silence, like I was being straight-up arrogant. "Hey, I'm talking to you! Can't you hear me? Are you still pretending to be dead?"

Enraged, she stormed over, raising the rolling pin high.

However, she didn't use it to hit me right away. She wanted to yank me up first to see my "stubborn" face. "Get up!"

She grabbed the back of my collar, her fingers brushing my skin as she did.

The next second, she froze.