Percy was unconvinced by her words and opened his mouth to argue.
Out of nowhere, my phone rang in the bedroom.
Percy’s eyes flicked to the clock on the wall; it was already past two in the afternoon.
“That’s strange… how could Mom leave without even taking her phone? It’s past lunchtime and she still isn’t back…”
He walked over to his sister’s door, hesitated, then knocked softly at first, then louder.
“Sis? Sis! Do you think something happened to Mom? Could it really be?”
Her furious voice exploded from inside.
“What are you shouting for?! What could even happen?!”
Moments later, she stormed out, yanking the door open, her face twisted with annoyance at being pulled from her game.
“She must’ve gotten upset this morning when she saw me on my phone. Couldn’t get over it and with nowhere else to go, now she’s pulling that runaway-from-home trick! Who exactly is she trying to scare?”
“Don’t waste your time with her. Once she cools off, she’ll crawl back shamelessly on her own tonight!”
Before Percy could respond, she slammed the door shut with a loud bang.
Percy stood frozen at the doorway. He parted his lips, yet no words came out.
I did not know how long had passed before I woke once more, my body wracked with unbearable, tearing pain.
Each breath scraped through me like knives, dragging against shattered ribs and displaced organs.
No. I couldn’t die like this.
I pressed my tongue against the tape again and again and at last I felt it loosen from the blows. I could finally open my mouth.
I was saved. I could finally cry for help.
I tried with all my strength, forcing the word past my lips. “Help.”
Yet in the very next instant, despair consumed me.
My teeth were almost all gone.
It turned out that under my son’s relentless fists, they had already been broken, knocked loose, or swallowed into me.
The sharp pain surged from my gums to my head, sending violent spasms through my body.
I tried to cry out, even a faint whimper, but my throat and mouth were too damaged. Only a broken huff escaped me.
Panic swelled and tears rolled down my face.
I could not die here. I could not die like this!
With the last of my strength, I forced my stiff shoulders and knees to strike against the inner wall of the punching bag.
Once, twice.
Percy sat on the sofa, playing with the remote, when a sudden flicker in the corner of his eye caught his attention. The punching bag swayed ever so slightly.
He froze, then turned, staring at it in bewilderment.
“Huh?”
He rubbed his eyes, certain the window was closed and no wind had passed through.
“Sis… that punching bag, it just moved on its own, didn’t it?”
Her door opened again. She poked her head out, scowling, her gaze sweeping the perfectly motionless punching bag with open irritation.
In those few moments, all the strength I had managed to gather was spent. I could no longer move at all.
“Move? Are you blind? What punching bag moves on its own?”
She marched over and shoved her brother’s head hard.
“You’ve got nothing better to do? Stop pretending there are ghosts just to irritate me! Go do something useful! If you interrupt my game again, I’ll beat you up, too!”
She slammed her door once more.
Her brother hunched his shoulders at her scolding, rubbing the spot on his head where she had pushed him. He kept staring at the punching bag for several uneasy seconds before convincing himself it was still.
“Maybe I really did imagine it…”
At last, he let it go and returned to his room to do homework.
By evening, my husband, Chase Alvarez, returned home.
He tossed his briefcase carelessly onto the shoe cabinet, glanced toward the silent kitchen and habitually raised his voice.
