Chapter 1

Ever since I was little, my feelings barely registered.

I couldn't cry, couldn't laugh, couldn't even feel afraid. My family took me to every therapist they could find, and none of it worked.

Then one day my sister tricked me with a game of hide-and-seek, luring me into the dog kennel and locking me in for a whole night.

For the first time, fear showed on my face.

She clapped her hands, proud of herself. "Those therapists were useless. It had to be me."

Mom and Dad didn't scold her. They praised her instead.

"Nadia Abbott's amazing! To think of such a clever way to cure your sister!"

After that, they started using extreme methods to force feelings out of me.

On a family trip, they abandoned me alone at a highway rest stop for a whole day.

On a camping trip, they left me overnight in a stretch of wilderness with no one around for miles.

I finally learned to cry, to beg them not to do this to me.

They only called me ungrateful.

"What do you think we're doing all this for?"

"It's to cure your emotional condition, that's what!"

To ramp up the shock, on a trip to the zoo they bribed a staffer to shut me inside the python enclosure.

They only meant for me to stay a night. What they didn't count on was one of the pythons not being caged properly.

It fixed on me like prey.

I tried to run, but the door was locked. There was nowhere to go.

When its body coiled around me, I suddenly remembered my parents' furious scolding.

I'm sorry, Mom, Dad. Looks like you won't get the chance to cure me after all.

1.

I floated in the air, watching the python go on crushing my body.

Only after it seemed certain there was no breath left in me did it begin to feed, starting from my head.

Soon my body was nothing but a meal in the python's belly.

I thought I'd leave this world for good. Instead, when I opened my eyes again, I was back home.

Mom, Dad, and Nadia were in the living room, laughing and talking, warm as anything.

I instinctively moved toward them, then remembered they couldn't see me anymore.

Just then their conversation shifted from household chatter to me.

"My phone's been buzzing over and over. It's got to be Rosalind Acevedo calling again."

Mom pulled out her phone as she spoke, and once she'd confirmed the calls were all from me, she rolled her eyes and tossed the phone carelessly onto the table in front of everyone.

My sister smiled when she heard.

"That's a good sign. It means Rosalind felt afraid again."

"As long as there's enough shock, her emotional condition will be completely cured."

Mom nodded, satisfied, and made a point of instructing Dad. "If she calls you later, don't pick up either, understand?"

"Relax. When have we ever answered her calls?"

That was true. Every time they left me alone somewhere with no one for miles, they made sure to silence their phones.

They'd block me and blacklist my messages too. No matter how many times I called, it would never go through.

I once questioned whether that plan was even safe, and Mom slapped me across the face in a rage.

"Are you doubting your sister's expertise?"

"Who do you think she chose to study psychology for? It's to cure you!"

"Haven't your feelings been getting clearer little by little? How dare you question your sister's treatment plan?"

I held my cheek and cried without a sound.

"Aren't you afraid something might happen to me?"

My sister spoke up then, wounded. "Rosalind, do you think we're trying to hurt you?"

"We only use this treatment after making sure it's safe beforehand."

"We just want to cure you, not harm you. How can you have so little trust in us?"

Mom chimed in. "Exactly. You don't understand how much thought we put into this at all!"

So after that, whenever they abandoned me, I stopped calling.

Because I knew that call would never go through.

But this time was different. While the python was chasing me, I called them again and again, sent message after message.

Every single one came back the same way: rejected, or a red exclamation mark.

Each one pushed me deeper into despair.

If they had picked up even once, maybe I wouldn't have died.

Just then I heard Mom ask my sister gently, "Nadia, how's your thesis coming along?"

"It's already been accepted. With all the ready-made material my sister provided, my advisor even praised how well I wrote it."

"Then once your sister comes back tomorrow, we won't use this treatment anymore."

My sister nodded lightly. "Sure. Rosalind's emotional condition is pretty much cured anyway."

I stared at the two of them, unable to believe it. Only now did I understand. All those so-called treatment plans before.

They were really just the source material my sister needed for her thesis.

My condition was the topic she'd chosen for it.

No wonder that, even though I'd long since learned to feel fear and to cry, they never once stopped.

I'd thought it was because I wasn't cured enough yet.

It turned out my sister just didn't have enough material yet.