Chapter 3
Edward Quan ·
A face identical to Mom's.
No fear of the bitter winter cold.
A door that wouldn't open.
Cries for help the neighbors couldn't hear.
None of it was normal.
She seemed to have some kind of power.
Or rather, perhaps she wasn't human at all.
If only I'd told Uncle everything when I was at his house.
Maybe I wouldn't be in this situation now.
Alone.
No one to turn to.
Not knowing whether I'd live or die.
All I could do was wait and watch.
The next three days passed in a strange kind of peace.
Apart from her calling me out for meals at the usual times, “Mom” and I didn't speak.
Except to eat or use the bathroom, I barely left my room.
There were only four days until Lunar New Year.
That day, I suddenly heard the front door open and close.
I cracked my bedroom door and peered out.
Had “Mom” gone out?
Other than the visit to Uncle's, this was the first time I'd seen her leave since winter vacation began.
I looked toward her room.
The door was shut.
Then I went to the front door and tried it.
Still no luck.
Dejected, I turned to go back to my room.
Then my eyes caught on “Mom's” bedroom door.
A seed of curiosity took root.
I hesitated a few seconds.
In the end, I walked over, drew a deep breath, and opened it.
The furnishings were almost unchanged.
There was just one thing.
A smell.
Not exactly foul, but deeply unpleasant.
The curtains were closed, leaving the room dim.
I walked around without finding anything unusual.
Remembering the sound of the wardrobe opening every evening, I went to the wardrobe beside her bed.
There were two doors.
Behind the first were clothes, all neatly hung.
I opened the second.
There wasn't a single item of clothing inside.
Only a doll.
A lifelike doll about as tall as a tablet.
It was a little girl in a dress, her hair in a ponytail.
There seemed to be something written on the dress.
I picked her up to look.
“April 11.”
I frowned slightly.
“April eleventh...”
“Isn't that my birthday?”
As I looked at the doll in my hands, an eerie feeling came over me.
Its eyes were looking at me.
Its lips were smiling.
The longer I looked, the colder my spine felt.
Bang!
A door slammed outside.
No!
“Mom” was back!
I hurriedly put the doll in the wardrobe and closed it as quietly as I could, then looked around for somewhere to hide.
I crawled under the bed.
The bedroom door opened.
“Mom” came in, softly humming that strange, unfamiliar tune.
She went straight to the wardrobe, took out the doll, and sat on the edge of the bed.
From underneath, all I could see were her bare feet.
Then she spoke, her voice gentle.
“Guess what Mommy bought you today?”
“Your favorite rainbow candy.”
“Have you been good at home today?”
“No getting into mischief.”
“Next time, I'll bring you that little kitten you wanted.”
...
She was talking to the doll.
So that was who she'd been talking to in her room every day.
This doll.
Worse still, she was calling herself its mother.
I clamped a hand over my mouth, afraid panic would make me cry out.
The discovery horrified me.
It made me more afraid than ever of the woman wearing my mother's face.
I lay motionless under the bed, listening as she spoke to the doll in that voice as gentle as water.
I would wait until she went to the kitchen to cook.
Then I'd slip back to my room.
Suddenly, the voice above me stopped.
The room fell silent.
My heart clenched.
It beat faster and faster.
Cold sweat gathered on my forehead.
“Mom's” feet shifted.
Something moved softly on the bed.
It seemed she'd stood up.
But she didn't walk away.
She stayed where she was.
I couldn't tell how much time had passed.
Minutes?
A few dozen seconds?
Every second felt like a century.
Then her legs suddenly bent.
She knelt on the floor.
And lowered her face toward it.
Slowly, her face appeared in the gap beneath the bed.
Her eyes met mine.
The corners of her mouth lifted.
She smiled and said softly, “Yiyi...”
“So you like playing hide-and-seek.”
“Doctor! Please come!”
“My grandpa's vomiting again!”
“Room Three! The patient's reacting to stimulation!”
“Get Dr. Lu!”
“Doctor! Please save my grandpa!”
“Grandpa, please hang on...”
Footsteps.
Wheels.
Crying.
People calling to one another.
The jumble of sounds woke me.
I opened my eyes.
The first thing I saw was Uncle and Grandma sitting beside me.
“Uncle... Grandma...”
“Why am I in the hospital?”
I looked around.
Only then did I realize I was lying in a hospital bed.
How strange.
Hadn't I been at home?
“Yiyi! You're awake!”
“Oh, my poor granddaughter...”
Grandma brightened when she saw my eyes open.
Then she gently stroked my face, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Thank goodness you're awake.”
“Thank goodness.”
“I'll get you some water.”
Uncle couldn't hide his relief either.
“Grandma...”
I burst into tears.
“I missed you so much...”
Throughout my confinement in that terrifying apartment, I'd lived in fear every day.
I never knew whether I might die at any moment.
It had been so long since I'd seen my family.
Now that I'd escaped death and found Grandma and Uncle beside me, everything I'd held inside came pouring out.
I sobbed.
Then the scene beneath the bed returned to me.
I started shaking.
Turning to Uncle, I asked, “Uncle...”
“What happened?”
“Why am I here?”
“For days, I kept calling you and your mother, but neither of you picked up.”
“It's nearly New Year.”
“You two always come to my place for the holiday.”
“I wanted to ask what you were planning this year.”
“When I couldn't get through, I went over to see if something was wrong.”
“Thank goodness I did.”
“I opened the door and found both of you unconscious on the floor.”
“So I brought you straight to the hospital.”
Something seemed to occur to him.
“Oh, right.”
“What happened to you two, anyway?”
“Why did you faint?”
I frowned.
Instead of answering, I asked, “Then... where is she?”
“I mean... my mother.”
“Where is she?”
“Right beside you.”
Uncle pointed to my left.
I turned my head.
There was another hospital bed, but two bedside cabinets stood between us, and a curtain had been drawn across.
I couldn't see who was lying beyond it.
Uncle went over and pulled the curtain aside.
The person in the bed was “Mom.”
Her eyes were tightly closed.
She lay motionless.
“Your mother's in worse shape than you are,” Uncle said.
“The doctor says her vital signs are very weak.”
“Her heart rate is slow.”
“Her breathing's much weaker than normal too.”
“And she's severely malnourished.”
“Her body's gone without proper nutrition for so long that its functions are failing.”
“She was too weak to go on.”
“Tell me honestly.”
“Does your mother not eat at home?”
“How did she get so malnourished that she fainted?”
...
Malnourished?
Suddenly, I remembered.
Yes.
At every meal, “Mom” had only taken a few token bites.
I looked from Grandma to Uncle and drew a deep breath.
“Uncle...”
“Grandma...”
“There's something I need to tell you.”
“Please...”
“You have to believe me.”
Grandma smiled kindly and stroked my forehead.
“Silly girl.”
“Of course I believe you.”
I pointed at the bed beside mine.
My voice was firm.
“That woman isn't my mother.”
Uncle immediately frowned.
“What nonsense are you talking?”