Chapter 1My Mothers Deadly Glass Cage

I was my mother’s rose, kept alive under a glass bell jar. Since I was two years old, I hadn't taken a single step outside.

I had severe environmental allergies, they told me. Dust, pollen, the very air itself. One wrong breath, and my throat would swell shut. I would suffocate and die.

To ensure I survived, my mother turned our home into a twenty-four-hour sterile fortress. Windows were permanently sealed. Central air conditioning was strictly forbidden because it circulated dust. Anyone who stepped through the front door had to immediately shower, and inside the house, we all had to wear medical-grade N95 masks.

Afraid I would be lonely, my mother forced my older sister to drop out of regular high school and be homeschooled with me.

One day, the stifling, stagnant heat of the house finally broke my sister. She ripped her mask off and reached for the window latch.

My mother lunged at her like a wild animal. She tackled my sister, pinning her arms down, and violently shoved the mask back over her face.

"Are you out of your mind?!" my mother shrieked. "Your sister is fighting for her life, and you’re trying to open a window to kill her?!"

My sister glared at me, her eyes practically vibrating with hatred. She bared her teeth and screamed, "You useless, sick freak! My entire life is ruined because of you!"

I felt a crushing guilt. I was ruining her life. So, the next time my sister cornered me in a room, ripped the mask off my face, cracked the window wide open, and locked the door from the outside... I didn't pound on the wood. I didn't scream for help. I didn't even shut the window.

I simply lay down on my bed, closed my eyes, and waited to die.

If I died, my sister would be free. My mother wouldn't have to cry over me anymore.

But morning came. My throat hadn't swollen. I hadn't even sneezed.

As I lay there, drawing in deep, effortless breaths of morning air, a cold terror washed over me.

Was I really the one who was sick?

…

* * *

I lay perfectly still on my bed, forcing my racing heart to slow down.

I had read that people who died from anaphylaxis turned a horrific shade of purple as they thrashed for air. I loved my mother. I didn't want her to find a gruesome corpse in the morning.

A cool, sweet summer breeze drifted through the open window, cutting through the stagnant heat of the room. It was the first taste of freedom I’d had in sixteen years. I breathed it in greedily, my whole body tense, waiting for the inevitable tightness in my chest.

But the minutes ticked by. Eventually, lulled by the soft rustle of the wind, I accidentally fell asleep.

When the bright morning sun jolted me awake, I sat up with a gasp. I touched my face. I touched my throat.

I was alive.

Not only did I not have a single symptom of an allergic reaction, but my lungs felt clearer than they ever had. Confused, I grabbed my phone and checked the local weather app. Air Quality: Poor. High pollen count.

How was I perfectly fine? Had my severe allergies miraculously cured themselves overnight?

Bewildered, I shut the window, intending to go find my mother and ask her.

Just then, the bedroom door flew open. It slammed against the wall, and my sister, Paige, marched in. When she saw me standing there without a single scratch on me, she froze. For a split second, shock flashed across her face—followed immediately by blinding rage.

She lunged at me, twisting her fingers into my hair.

"You sick bitch! How dare you close that window?" she hissed, her manicured nails digging into my scalp. "You should have left it open and died to pay me back!"

The pain was blinding. I struggled, trying to explain that I had only just closed it, but Paige wasn't listening. She pinched and scratched at my arms, venting years of pent-up resentment.

I couldn't help but cry out.

Hearing the commotion, my mother rushed into the room. She shoved Paige away and immediately slapped a fresh N95 mask over my face, her hands trembling.

She whipped around to face Paige, her voice laced with venom. "Did you take your sister's mask off again?!"

"You know how sick she is! Are you trying to murder her?!"

Paige let out a bitter, mocking laugh, looking at me like I was garbage.

"I wish she’d die sooner!" Paige screamed back. "Because of her, I can't leave this house! It’s the middle of July, and I'm suffocating in a house with no AC and no open windows!"

My mother shot her a withering glare.

"Your own sister has a deadly illness. Instead of staying home to support her, you just want to go out and party?!" my mother scolded. "Let me make this clear: if Maddie doesn't get better, you will stay in this house and keep her company for the rest of your life!"

Paige visibly trembled, her face flushing crimson with fury. "Why do I have to suffer because she’s defective?! It’s not fair!"

Seeing Paige working herself into a hysterical state, my mother’s tone instantly softened. The venom vanished, replaced by a sickeningly sweet coaxing.

"Alright, alright, calm down. Mom knows it’s hard on you," she cooed, reaching out to stroke Paige’s arm. "Go back to your room and rest. Tomorrow is your birthday party. I’ll buy you that Chanel dress you’ve been begging for, okay?"

The dress was nearly fifteen thousand dollars. Paige had been obsessing over it for months.

Instantly, Paige’s eyes lit up. The rage evaporated from her posture. She gave me one last disdainful sneer. "Fine. For the dress, I’ll let the sick freak off the hook today."

My mother exhaled a heavy sigh of relief and affectionately patted Paige’s head. "That's my good girl."

Right at that moment, Paige let out a sharp sneeze. Instinctively, she reached up and began to rub her eyes. Within seconds, the whites of her eyes were bloodshot and watery.

My mother’s face drained of all color. She looked absolutely terrified.

She sprinted to the closet, hauled out the HEPA-filter vacuum, and began frantically vacuuming the air and the floor around us. Then, she practically shoved Paige toward the door.

"You silly girl, you’ve clearly caught a cold! Get to your room and lie down, right now!"

Seeing me standing there, frozen, my mother forced a reassuring smile onto her pale face.

"Don't be scared, Maddie. Your sister just caught a summer cold. I sent her to her room so she wouldn't infect you." She smoothed her shirt. "I’m going to go bring her some Vitamin C. Go eat your breakfast, sweetie."

She grabbed Paige’s prescription bottle of "Vitamin C" from the counter and hurried down the hall.

I stood there, watching my mother’s frantic, retreating back. My mind was spinning.

A cold?

Paige’s bedroom didn't even have a window. It was in the center of the house. There was no draft, no change in temperature. And her symptoms—the sudden sneezing, the itchy, bloodshot eyes—didn't look like a cold.

It looked exactly like an allergic reaction.

Slowly, I raised my hand and pulled the mask off my face.

I took a deep, deliberate breath of the unfiltered air.

My airway was completely clear. No itching. No tightness.

As all the little details from the past decade clicked into place, a bone-deep chill washed over me.

Was I really the one who was allergic?