My mom often makes an example out of someone when it comes to parenting.

Unfortunately, I'm that someone, while my little brother, Raymond Nelson, benefits from it.

Ever since I was four years old, my mom had been using this method.

If Raymond breaks a bowl, I'm the one kneeling on the floor to pick up the pieces.

If Raymond destroys something belonging to someone else, I'm the one writing the reflection report on his behalf.

Mom tells me, "You're the older sister here. Since you can't keep your brother in line, you're the one at fault."

But Raymond can never get rid of his bad habit of stealing and lying.

When Franklin Harris, the owner of a grocery store, comes knocking on our door, Raymond points at me once again.

"She was the one who stole your money!"

In order to help Raymond get rid of this problematic habit of his, Mom decides to hand me over to the owner.

"Sorry, Franklin. It's my fault for not raising my child well. I'll give my daughter to you. You can do whatever you want to her, be it scolding her or beating her up."

Little does she know that I will never go home after Mr. Harris takes me away.

Mom pulled Franklin Harris, the owner of the neighborhood grocery store, to the side and whispered something to him before shoving a handful of cash into his palm. Hesitation flickered across Mr. Harris' face, but he eventually nodded.

"Mom?" I called out to her softly, but she didn't look at me.

Mr. Harris' greasy, oversized hands lifted me up easily, as if I were a little chick. He bellowed at my terrified brother, Raymond, "See this? This is the price you pay for stealing money and lying!"

Confusion washed over me. Hadn't Mom already paid him back?

"Mom!" I screamed.

Raymond rushed over and gripped my hand with everything he had. "I won't steal anymore! I swear! Put my sister down!" he wailed.

Mr. Harris let out a cold laugh and hoisted me onto his shoulder, marching toward the exit. "Too late! Why didn't you think about your sister when you were busy stealing and lying?"

Raymond ran to Mom, dropped to his knees, and wrapped his arms around her legs. "Mom, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Don't let him take Emilia away! I'm begging you!“

His heart-wrenching sobs filled the air as he pleaded frantically. Mom looked down at him, and to my horror, a satisfied smile spread across her lips. "Remember, you lost your sister because of your mistake."

"Lock her up somewhere far away," she told Mr. Harris. "Make sure her brother can't find her."

I panicked completely. "Mom!"

At that moment, I finally realized that she wasn't joking. She truly didn't want me anymore.

I was shoved into a battered van with a rag stuffed in my mouth, and my limbs were bound. The vehicle drove on for hours. By the time it finally stopped at a village I had never visited, the sun had dipped low, and the sky had grown dim. When the warehouse doors swung open, a musty odor rushed out at me.

Mr. Harris pointed to a few boxes in the corner. "There's water if you're thirsty and bread if you're hungry. Stay put, and your mom will come for you in two days."

The iron door slammed shut with a heavy thud. I heard him talking on the phone outside the door. "Don't worry… she's far away… no one will find her… We'll settle the payment later…"

The warehouse sat in total darkness, save for a high ventilation window that let in a sliver of faint moonlight. I waited for a long time, but neither Mom nor Dad showed up.

Had they actually abandoned me? The thought stung like a needle piercing my heart.

No, that couldn't be right. Mom had said that it was just an act to scare Raymond. I repeated the words to myself over and over like a mantra.

However, as the sky grew darker, strange noises began to echo through the warehouse. There was a rustling sound—like rats, or maybe something else. Terror seized me, and my desire to go home grew stronger.

I started stacking the boxes one by one. I wobbled as I climbed on top and stood on my tiptoes to reach the window. Once my fingertips finally brushed the icy frame, I pushed it open with every ounce of my strength.

With a sudden crash, the boxes beneath me collapsed. The world spun as the back of my head hit the concrete floor with a dull thud. Strangely, I felt no pain.

…

When I scrambled up, my surroundings seemed different. Despite the lack of light, I could clearly see the boxes scattered across the floor and even the dust motes dancing in the air.

I wanted to restack the boxes, but as I reached for one, my hand passed right through it. I was stunned, then tried again. My fingers glided through the cardboard without any resistance, as if moving through a cloud of mist.

Did I get superpowers from that fall, just like the characters in TV shows?

The thought made my heart race. If I truly had special abilities, could I simply fly back home? I wondered if Mom would praise me for being so impressive.

I tried stretching my foot toward the wall. When it actually passed through, a wave of shock and joy washed over me. I dashed around the warehouse, passing through one box after another. It was exactly like the shows!

However, why couldn't I touch anything? This question quietly crept into my mind like a tiny insect. I decided to push it aside for now and head home first. I wanted to go home.

The moment that desire surfaced, the scenery blurred before my eyes. Wind roared past my ears as roads, trees, and streetlights whizzed by. A second later, I was really standing at the front door of my home.

I rushed through the door. "Mom, I'm back! I think I can do magic now!"

Mom had her back to me as she worked in the kitchen. The stove was crowded with dishes, and the aroma of braised ribs filled the entire house. It was Raymond's birthday.

I called out again. "Mom?"

She didn't turn around. It was as if she hadn't heard me. My chest tightened. In the past, whenever I made a mistake, she would ignore me like this until I apologized. She must still be angry.

I decided to look for Raymond instead. He would definitely be stunned to see me walking through walls.

Just then, the door opened. Dad walked in looking exhausted from his travels. However, there was a smile on his face and a toy train in his hand.

Mom wiped her hands and went to greet him. "You must be tired."

Dad said gently, "I took a few days off. Just in time to spend Ray's birthday with him."

"Dad!" I shouted.

I ran toward him, but he walked right past me to Mom as she came to greet him.

Raymond ran out of his room sobbing and threw himself into Dad's arms. "Dad! Go get Emilia back! Mr. Harris took her! Mom said she doesn't want her anymore!"

Dad froze and looked at Mom. "What's going on?"

Mom walked over quickly and whispered into Dad's ear, "Ray wouldn't stop stealing money no matter what I said, so I made a deal with Mr. Harris, the owner of the neighborhood grocery store. We staged an act to scare Ray and said Emilia was given to him as compensation."

Dad's brow furrowed instantly. "This is ridiculous! What if this goes too far? Where is Emilia?"

Mom sounded relaxed. "She's in Mr. Harris' warehouse, and she's perfectly safe. I've settled everything with him. She won't go hungry. You didn't see how Ray was before. If he doesn't feel the pain, he'll never learn his lesson!"

I heard everything she said. It was all just an act! Mom hadn't abandoned me! A wave of heat surged to my head, and I felt so happy I wanted to jump. My body lifted slightly off the floor.

Raymond was still weeping. "Dad, please bring Emilia back. I'm begging you. I'll never steal money again!"

I floated over to Raymond, wanting to pinch his cheek. "Stop crying, you little dummy. We were both fooled."

My fingers slid right through his face.

At that moment, Dad said sternly, "Ray, you did something very wrong this time. Emilia has to face the consequences for your mistake."

The light in Raymond's eyes vanished.

"Mom!" I said.

I drifted beside Mom while she plated the braised ribs. I tried to hug her from behind, but my arms passed through her torso. "Mom, thank you for not throwing me away."

She couldn't hear me. She turned with the plate in her hands and walked through me toward the dining table.

Dad ruffled Raymond's hair. "Ray is crying so hard. I think this is enough. I'll go bring Emilia back first thing tomorrow morning."

Mom's voice turned cold. "Wait two more days. He needs to fully understand that some mistakes result in permanent loss."

"But Emilia—"

Mom cut him off. "Emilia has food and water at Mr. Harris' place, and she's perfectly safe. This time, we have to be firm."

Two more days? I was right here, though.

I drifted between my parents and waved my arms frantically. "Dad! Mom! I'm right here! Can't you see me? I'm back! I'm really back!"

Mom suddenly shivered and rubbed her arms. "Why does it feel so cold all of a sudden?"

She walked to the window and closed it, completely unaware that I was standing in front of her. My hand went right through her shoulder.

Why couldn't I touch her? Why couldn't she see or hear me?

A cold voice echoed in my mind. "It's because I'm dead."

The realization washed over me and left me frozen. I hovered blankly in the kitchen, watching Mom set the dishes on the table.

Raymond shoved his food onto the floor and wailed, "I'm not eating if Emilia isn't here!"

Mom raised her hand as if to strike him, then stopped herself. She said coldly, "If you don't eat, then stay hungry."

She bent down, picked up the food scattered on the floor, and threw it into the trash. Her movements were brisk, as though she were throwing away something she no longer needed. It was just like the way she had discarded me.

The thought suddenly surfaced and made me tremble. Memories of things I once failed to understand began to flood back.

Mom once told the neighbor with a smile, "Emilia is my lucky charm. As soon as she was born, Raymond came right after. She really brings us good luck."

Back then, I didn't understand what that meant; I only knew that Mom smiled brightly while stroking my hair. However, after Raymond was born, she rarely stroked my hair. Her eyes followed him constantly. She held him, kissed him, and called him her sweetheart.

Dad was the same. The first thing he asked when he got home from work was always, "Where's Ray?"

His shoulders became Raymond's personal seat, while I could only trail behind, carefully tugging at his shirt, afraid that he might forget me.

Once, when I had a fever, I curled up in the corner of the couch. After Mom finished feeding Raymond, she finally came over to check my temperature. Frowning, she said with annoyance, "You're burning up. You're only making things harder."

In the end, Dad got up in the middle of the night to carry me to the hospital. He sighed on the way and told me, "Emilia, you're the older sister. You need to be responsible and not tire Mom out."

So, this was what it meant to be a lucky charm—my purpose had ended the moment Raymond was born. I was no longer a blessing; I was just an older sister who was expected to be sensible.

…

When they were nearly done eating, Mom brought out a cake and placed the candles on it.

Raymond was forced to make a wish. He started sobbing again. "I wish for Emilia to come back."

"Stop crying! Your sister is taking the punishment for you! If you don't change, next time—"

Mom didn't finish the sentence, but her gaze was ice cold.

Dad stepped in to smooth things over. "Alright, your wish will come true."

"Really?" Raymond asked.

"Yes, I promise," Dad replied.

A spark of hope lit up Raymond's eyes.

However, I was already back. I floated above the cake, watching the flickering flames. Their wish had already come true; they just didn't know it.

…

After dinner, Mom washed dishes at the sink. I wanted to wipe the sweat from her forehead, but my hand passed right through it. She used to complain all the time that my hands were cold. Now, I couldn't even touch her.

Dad walked over with his brows tightly furrowed. "Should we go get Emilia? She gets scared easily."

Mom looked up immediately, her voice firm. "No. If we bring her back now, the lesson for Ray is wasted. It's only been a day; he won't learn anything yet."

"I have a bad feeling," Dad said. "Emilia has been afraid of the dark since she was little. I don't even know if there are any lights on in Mr. Harris' warehouse."

"There's a light. I specifically told him to keep a light on at night," Mom answered.

I wanted to tell them that there were no lights in the warehouse, only a high window. I tried desperately to inform them of that, but my voice sounded like nothing more than wind whistling through a crack.

Suddenly, an idea struck me. I focused all my energy and stared at the chandelier in the kitchen, imagining that it was my hand and my eyes.