Chapter 3

I pursed my lips, my eyes reddening as I instinctively looked toward Mom and Dad.

Mom and Dad's eyes flickered for a moment, as if they'd just remembered what they'd demanded of me.

Ever since Barbara's autism got worse, Mom and Dad had been forcing me to talk more in front of Barbara every single day.

Each time, I'd talk until my voice went hoarse, but Barbara would still show no response.

Mom would sob, clutching her chest, venting all her frustration on me.

"Talk more in front of Barbara! Talk! Hurry up and talk!"

"What's the point of having a mouth if you don't use it? Mouths are for talking, aren't they?"

"But you? You don't think about Barbara at all. All you do is make her angry."

But Barbara's "kindness" to me was secretly stuffing candy in my mouth when she knew I couldn't eat sugar.

I was only three back then. All my teeth rotted, and the pain kept me awake every night.

In the end, not only were all my baby teeth pulled out, but I also got scolded by Mom and Dad.

Dad would often say to me sternly, "Somerville, the therapist said someone in the family needs to guide Barbara to speak and give her positive feedback."

"You have both the responsibility and the obligation to help Barbara and set a good example for her."

But I've already been trying so hard to guide Barbara. Why are Mom and Dad still not satisfied?

Just as I faced the relatives' interrogation, clutching my hands and not knowing how to answer, Dad handed me a plate of strawberries.

"Go eat your strawberries somewhere else. Talk less."

I took the strawberries, but Barbara suddenly snatched them away, raised her hand and smashed them on the floor, then opened her mouth to let out a piercing scream.

Mom and Dad's faces went pale. Barbara's autism was acting up again.

Mom, with reddened eyes, poked my forehead with her finger and scolded:

"Somerville, why are you so greedy? Barbara hasn't eaten yet—why are you eating first?"

"You know Barbara lacks a sense of security. Everything in this house should prioritize Barbara. Barbara comes first."

Looking down at the smashed strawberries on the floor, a bitter taste rose in my throat.

I squatted down and picked up the strawberries from the floor one by one, placing them on the plate, my lips mumbling, "I know I was wrong. I don't want the strawberries anymore."

"I'll let Barbara have all the strawberries."

Seeing how obedient I was, Uncle Torres frowned curiously and asked, "Why has Somerville become so well-behaved? I remember when you were three, you were so protective of your food. Once something was in your hands, no one could take it away."

Hearing Torres's words of concern, a warmth rose in my heart, and my inner thoughts spilled out without defense:

"Because the mom in the mirror already gave me strawberries to eat..."

Meeting Mom and Dad's icy stares, I realized I'd said the wrong thing. I quickly covered my mouth with my small hands and shook my head, indicating I hadn't said anything.

Colleen didn't believe I'd really become obedient. A cold smile curved her lips. "Somerville sure knows how to act!"

"Deliberately pretending to be pitiful to gain sympathy, and even lying about having a mom in the mirror. Why don't you just say you're going to live in the mirror?"

Hearing Colleen's words, I froze.

How did Colleen know that the mom in the mirror wanted to take me away?

Mom caught the panic in my eyes and trembled with anger. "Somerville, didn't I teach you not to lie? Why are you spouting nonsense today?"

"Hurry up and tell everyone that the mom in the mirror is something you made up. It's a lie."

I instinctively glanced at the mirror in my room. The mom in the mirror poked her head out, staring at me with hollow eyes, her mouth curving into an eerie arc.

I timidly raised my head and stammered, "Mom, I'm not lying, and I'm not making things up..."

There really was another mom in the mirror.

But under Mom's stern, pressuring gaze, I swallowed the rest of my words.

Torres, who had grown up in a church, took my words seriously. He frowned and said to Mom:

"I don't think Somerville is lying. Maybe there really is something wrong with that mirror. How about I help you check the house?"

After Torres took out his religious artifacts from his bag, Mom's expression grew increasingly tense.

Just as Torres was about to ask me some questions about the mirror, Barbara's scream interrupted him.