Chapter 3
While the crowd continued their revelry, Ben quietly withdrew from the encirclement.
He was holding a porcelain plate piled high with sandwiches and a small piece of chocolate cake.
My soul immediately floated to his side. Has someone finally noticed something's wrong?
He avoided his mother's gaze and hurried up the stairs. I followed him desperately, as if grasping at a lifeline.
“Alex?” He stopped in front of my closed door and called out in a low voice.
Inside the door, all was deathly silent. On the floor, separated only by the door, lay my gradually cooling body.
Ben freed up one hand to turn the doorknob.
"Click." The door lock didn't budge.
He froze. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, then he knocked hard on the door twice: "Alex, are you asleep?"
The only response he received was the deafening bass from downstairs.
Anxiety drove Ben to turn and rush downstairs. I followed him like an inescapable shadow, crashing back into the noisy living room.
"Auntie!" Ben grabbed his mother, who was pouring wine, as they weaved through the dancing crowd. "Alex's door is locked, and no matter how much I knock, there's no response. Could you give me the key to open it and let me see?"
The music was deafening; the mother had to lean closer to hear it clearly.
The moment she heard it clearly, her slightly tipsy face quickly turned icy.
"Ignore that lunatic!" She jerked her hand back, spilling a few drops of red wine from her glass. "He's just trying to force us to compromise through a hunger strike! He won't die from starving for one night!"
Ben's hand froze in mid-air as he stared in disbelief at the usually gentle and refined elder before him.
"But he was so sick..."
“It’s precisely because he’s so sick that he’s even more manipulative!” his mother interrupted him roughly. “Put the plate by the door, and he’ll beg us to open it when he’s starving!”
This roar completely shattered Ben's resolve.
He sighed helplessly and carried the plate back up to the second floor.
The plate was gently placed on the carpet outside the door. Ben stared at the door for a while, then finally turned and went downstairs.
I floated above the plate, looking at the tempting chocolate cake, and felt so desperate I wanted to burst into tears.
The person inside wasn't on a hunger strike; he simply didn't have the strength left to call for help!
As the last burst of maniacal laughter faded, the door slammed shut.
The deafening music finally stopped, leaving only the pungent smell of alcohol and fermented cream in the air.
The party ended, leaving the place in a mess.
The mother bent down to pick up the ribbons from the ground, her movements suddenly becoming frantic.
"Crash!" She swept a pile of empty wine glasses into a trash bag, the sound of shattering glass particularly jarring in the deathly silent living room.
"It's ruined! It's all ruined!" she suddenly raised her voice, her trembling with hysteria. "They didn't even leave us a whole night of happiness!"
The father sat on the sofa, silently lit a cigarette, and the flame flickered in the darkness.
Matt and Ben's hands, holding rags, froze in mid-air as they awkwardly watched their mother's sudden outburst.
"Five years!" The mother threw down the trash bag, covered her face, and broke down in tears. "To take care of that useless person, the family's savings were emptied! I missed three promotions! I even have to carefully plan my trips to the supermarket!"
Her cries were like rusty awls, shattering my transparent soul.
"We haven't even been on a single vacation! Why? Why should the whole family have to die with him just because he's sick?!"
The father took a deep drag on his cigarette, exhaling thick white smoke, but remained silent.
Matt lowered his head, frantically wiping a tabletop that was already quite clean, not daring to say a word.
I hung from the ceiling, looking at this home that was now riddled with holes because of me.
Every tear my mother shed was real. Their hatred for me was real too.
The ashtray was piled high with cigarette butts, and the living room was finally cleaned up.
Weary footsteps echoed up the stairs.
The mother, clutching a rag, dragged her heavy steps up to the second floor.
As she passed my room, she suddenly stopped in her tracks.
The plates on the carpet remained untouched. The edges of the sandwiches had dried and curled up, and the cream on the cake had slightly collapsed.
She stared intently at the plate, her shoulders suddenly slumping as if all her strength had been drained away.
She slowly squatted down, her voice hoarse through the cold door.
“Alex…”
The call was as soft as a sigh, yet it sent a shiver down my spine.
"Mom... said something too harsh today." She leaned her head against the door, her voice filled with deep weariness and a hint of barely perceptible guilt.
I saw her hand rummaging in her pocket.
“But you have to understand Mom. Matt has been waiting for this day for so long. Our whole family just needs a breather.”
She pulled out something wrapped in exquisite gold foil—the leftover premium chocolate from the party.
She carefully placed the chocolate on the edge of the plate.
This belated warmth felt like a poisonous thorn piercing my eye.
After saying this, she stood up, supporting herself on her knees. Without taking her key to open the door, she went straight back to the master bedroom.
The corridor fell silent once again.
My soul slumped outside the door, staring intently at the gleaming golden chocolate.
This is the first time in five years that my mother has taken the initiative to show weakness to me.
As long as I reach out and peel off the foil, I can taste that long-lost sweetness.
With trembling hands, I reached out my translucent fingers and grabbed the chocolate with all my might.
The moment the fingertip touched it, it pierced through the wrapping paper without any resistance.
All I could grasp was empty air.
A strong smell of stomach acid mixed with the undigested taste of pills suddenly surged up from my empty throat.
It's too late.
Mom, your chocolate is too late. Alex, behind that door, will never be able to answer you again.
