In Death I Obeyed You Most Chapter 03
A few mornings later, Mom’s phone rang on the credenza.
She answered it, her tone instantly sweetening. “Hey darling, how is the business trip in London going?”
Dad’s voice came through the speaker: “Productive, but I miss you all. How has Nora been settling in since she came home?”
Mom glanced over at me, a contented smile touching her lips. “Nora is remarkably well-behaved now—no more outbursts or attitude. She sits quietly and studies alongside Chloe every day. She’s been an absolute angel.”
She snapped a photo of me seated beside Chloe at the study desk and texted it across the Atlantic.
“Look, they’re getting along like real sisters.”
“I told you before—you just have to be firm if you want a child raised right. Nora is finally becoming the daughter I always wanted.”
Hearing Dad’s voice, Chloe dropped her pen and leaned over the phone, cooing sweetly, “Daddy! I miss you so much! When are you flying back to New York?”
Dad chuckled warmly. “Daddy misses you too, sweetie! I’ll be home next week, and I’m bringing back gifts for both you and your sister.”
Mom thrust the receiver toward my mouth and murmured a sharp command: “Say hello to your father.”
“Hello, Dad,” I stated woodenly, my voice completely devoid of inflection.
On the other end of the line, Dad paused, concern creeping into his tone. “What’s wrong with Nora? She sounds completely drained. Is she pale? Is she sick?”
Mom yanked the phone back smoothly. “She threw off her blankets last night and caught a slight chill. I already gave her some medicine; she’ll be right as rain in a couple of days. Don’t worry about it.”
“Alright. Thank you for taking care of the girls, darling.”
The second the call disconnected, Mom’s face hardened into a scowl. “Next time your father calls, look alive! What’s with that corpse face?”
“Yes, Mom. Understood.”
Ever since that phone call, Chloe dropped all pretenses of restraint.
She ripped my schoolbooks to shreds and scattered the torn pages across the hallway;
She swept all my pens and pencils into the trash bin and stomped on them until the plastic cracked.
Mom witnessed this and remarked with cold detachment: “Chloe is still young—it’s natural for her to be playful. You’re the older sister; clean it up.”
Executing the command, I knelt down, picked up the torn fragments, and pulled the crushed stationery from the garbage.
The serrated paper edges sliced into my index finger, dark blood welling up and dripping onto the hardwood, but my brow didn’t twitch.
I organized every pencil in precise alignment. Only when the desk was fully restored did I sit back down.
Days slipped by, and I remained nothing more than a bio-mechanical chassis waiting on external inputs.
Whenever Mom gave no orders, I stayed completely motionless in place, my pulse and breath non-existent.
Late one evening, while making her rounds, Olivia spotted me standing in the center of the pitch-black bedroom, staring unblinkingly into the dark.
The next morning, she approached Mom with hesitant anxiety. “Ma’am, Nora has been acting so strangely… She doesn’t speak, she doesn’t move all day, and she doesn’t sleep at night—just stands there like a statue. Could something have gone wrong with that modification program?”
Mom paused her makeup routine, answering through the vanity mirror with icy nonchalance: “That is exactly what the modification was supposed to achieve. Quiet, compliant, and saving me from her endless trouble.”
“Stop wasting your time worrying about nonsense. Do your job, and don’t you dare give her special treatment.”
Olivia swallowed her words, sighed, and quietly retreated.
At dinner, I sat at the table, mechanically chewing the cold greens on my plate.
Mom delivered a fresh instruction: “Get up early tomorrow and accompany Chloe to the music room for her piano practice. Do you understand?”
“Understood, Mom.”
I nodded robotically and kept chewing.
No one noticed that my fingernail beds had already turned a mottled, bluish-purple.