Chapter 2

"I told you there was nothing wrong with you. I know you better than any doctor ever could. This trip was a complete waste of time."

In the car on the way back, my mom, Amber, took a photo of the clean bill of health and sent it directly to our family group chat on Snapchat.

She specifically drew a red circle around the words: Results: Normal.

"Took her for a checkup today. Absolutely nothing is wrong. She's just scaring herself."

The moment the message was sent, my relatives started popping up one after another.

My Aunt Mary texted: "I knew it couldn't be depression. Your family provides her with such a great life. What does she even have to be depressed about?"

My Uncle John added: "Kids these days just spend too much time on TikTok. They learn a few fancy terms and think it applies to them."

My dad, David, finally replied.

"Good to know she's fine. Stop causing drama now. Your mom works so hard to take care of you."

My mom put her phone down, looking thoroughly satisfied.

"See? Everyone says you're fine. You threw a little tantrum, and I had to wake up early just to drag you here."

"Depression? Please. If people didn't know better, they'd think I was abusing you."

I stared at the screen and nodded.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

My mom blinked, probably not expecting me to admit it so quickly.

I lowered my head. I could only remember every single time I had reached out to her for help. She always broke down before I did.

"I don't even dare to say I'm depressed, and my life is way harder than yours! To take care of you, I wake up at dawn, cook you organic meals, and spend every waking hour worrying. I poured my soul into raising you, and somehow I'm the one in the wrong?"

Even this hospital visit was just the result of her crying all night in frustration.

"Fine! We'll go to the hospital! I want to see exactly how much I've 'ruined' you!"

This time, I didn't dare to talk back.

From that day on, I became perfectly normal.

I didn't need my mom to wake me up anymore. I got out of bed at exactly 6:30 AM.

Whatever breakfast she made, I ate every single bite.

Even when my stomach churned with nausea, I forced the last mouthful down.

Before school, she searched my backpack and my phone.

I just stood by and waited. I stopped asking her why she was going through my things.

When she deleted the raw, messy thoughts from the notes app on my phone, I didn't stop her.

"This stuff is just whiny and dramatic," she said, handing the phone back to me. "Write about happy things from now on."

During class, I no longer slumped over my desk.

When Ms. Jenkins called on me, I stood up and answered clearly.

My desk mate asked if I was feeling better lately. I smiled, mimicking my mom's tone.

"I was always fine. I was just overthinking things a while ago."

When I got home from school, I voluntarily helped my mom prep vegetables, vacuum the carpets, and fold the laundry.

When she called Aunt Mary, her voice was light and airy.

"That checkup was actually worth it. She's finally snapped out of it."

"Before, she carried this miserable face around every day, like the whole family owed her something. Now that she knows she's not sick, she actually has some energy."

Aunt Mary laughed on the other end of the line.

"I told you so. Kids don't have real problems."

My mom looked back at me.

I was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing a tiny smudge near her feet.

She said happily, "She just needed to realize that running away doesn't solve anything."

I kept my head down and kept scrubbing.

The stain had been gone for a long time.

But I kept scrubbing the exact same spot, over and over again.

At 10:00 PM, my mom pushed open my bedroom door.

I was already tucked under the covers. My school uniform was folded neatly, and my homework for tomorrow was sitting right on top of my backpack.

She finally smiled.

"See? Isn't it so much better to be normal?"

"When I lectured you before, it was only because I didn't want you going down the wrong path. When you grow up, you'll realize I did it all for your own good."

I looked at her.

"Thank you, Mom."

She turned off the light for me.

Outside my room, she sent a voice note to my dad.

"Don't worry, she's completely fine now. She's being so obedient, and she doesn't say those scary things anymore."

My dad asked, "Then why keep the evaluation report?"

"Of course we have to keep it. Just in case she tries to pull another stunt in the future."

Her footsteps faded down the hallway.

I kept my eyes open, staring toward the desk.

The copy of the evaluation report was pressed flat under my desk lamp.

Score: Normal. No depressive tendencies. Recommended: Maintain healthy family communication.

I stared at it for a very long time. Then, I pulled out a brand-new journal.

On the first page, I wrote:

Today, I woke up on time. I finished my breakfast. I didn't zone out during class. I helped Mom with the chores after school.

I am doing great.