Chapter 3

Day five of my rebirth.

My burns became infected. A fever of 102 degrees washed over me, making my skin feel like it was on fire all over again.

The nurse gave me an injection and swapped ice packs over my forehead throughout the night before the temperature finally came down.

Mom had no idea.

She had spent the entire night in the adjacent room with Chloe.

The next morning, Chloe skipped into my room holding a peeled orange.

"Maya, look! Mom bought me oranges. They're super sweet. Try a piece."

She pressed a slice against my dry lips.

I parted my mouth and took it. It was incredibly sweet—sweet enough to make my chest ache.

Chloe leaned against the guardrail, whispering, "Maya, please get better soon, okay? I want to play with you."

I gave a slight nod.

She lowered her voice. "Mom hasn't smiled at all these past two days. It scares me."

Looking at her innocent face, my heart stung with bitterness.

*Chloe, Mom isn't frowning because of you. It's because of me.*

*It's because she doesn't want to pay for my treatment, but doesn't know how to abandon me yet.*

That afternoon, Mom finally came in.

She carried an insulated thermos. For a split second, my heart fluttered, thinking she had brought something for me.

Then she set it carelessly on my nightstand. "Chloe couldn't finish her chicken soup. It's a waste to throw it out, so you drink it."

I stared at the thermos. The lid wasn't even screwed on properly; greasy broth had trickled down the side.

I didn't move.

Mom's patience snapped instantly. "Are you going to drink it or not? Chloe begged for seconds and I wouldn't give it to her. Don't be ungrateful."

[Gave me Chloe's cold leftovers: minus 5 points.]

[Mom told me not to be ungrateful: minus 3 points.]

Current score: 56 points.

I reached out with my trembling, bandaged hand, unscrewed the lid, and took a sip. The soup was barely lukewarm, coated in a thick layer of congealed fat.

It tasted like nothing.

It wasn't that the broth lacked flavor; my taste buds were either ruined by the fever, or my heart had simply lost the ability to feel anything.

Seeing me swallow it, Mom nodded approvingly. "That's more like it. Stop acting so spoiled. Chloe is younger than you, but she's far more sensible."

[Mom said Chloe is more sensible: minus 2 points.]

54 points.

She turned to leave, but my hand shot out and caught the hem of her jacket.

Mom looked down, her forehead creased in irritation. "What is it now?"

I locked eyes with her and forced a raspy whisper through my throat: "Mom... it hurts."

I foolishly thought that if I admitted it, she might at least ask where it hurt.

Instead, she rolled her eyes. "Who isn't hurting? Chloe is hurting too! And I'm exhausted running between the two of you all day. Can't you just stop causing me so much trouble?"

[Mom said, "Can't you just stop causing me so much trouble": minus 5 points.]

49 points.

She yanked her jacket out of my grip so fast it was as if she had brushed against something filthy.

Then she walked out without looking back.

I lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, tears leaking into my hair.

*Mom, I didn't want to be trouble.*

*I just wanted you to ask me where it hurt. Just once.*

*But you never did.*

*Not even once.*

When the nurse came in to check my IV and saw me crying, she gasped softly. "What's wrong? Are you in a lot of pain?"

I shook my head.

She sighed, gently blotting my tears with a tissue. "Your mom is probably just under a lot of stress. Don't be too hard on her."

I wasn't being hard on her.

I just didn't love her anymore.