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The Summer Before SATs, I Went to a Correction Center
NovelShort
Completed
On the first day of summer break, I was thrown out of the house to go work off my father's gambling debts. In reality, I used every cent of my savings to check myself into a private correction center. I made them only one request. "I want to feel nothing when my father comes to me covered in bruises, begging for money. I want to feel no guilt when my mother cries about how hard her life is. I want to feel no pity when my little brother tells me to take care of him."
Chapters (4)
第1章
On the first day of summer break, I got kicked out of the house to go work off my father's gambling debts.
What I actually did was empty every cent of my savings to check myself into a private correction center.
I gave them only one condition.
"I want to not go soft when my father comes to me covered in bruises, begging for money. I want to feel no guilt when my mother cries about how hard her life is. I want to feel no pity when my little brother asks me to take care of him."
"I want to become a complete egotist."
My money was too little, so a three-month program got compressed into twenty days.
In those twenty days, every feeling I had for my family was warped.
At the final exam, the instructor asked me only one question.
"If your father owed a huge debt, and he'd die unless you paid it off, what would you do?"
I smiled.
"Let him die."
"Congratulations. You've graduated."
...
The instructor handed me a graduation certificate.
I took it and left without a word.
For the rest of summer break, I went looking for somewhere to keep working and earning money.
That money was all I had to cover the cost of repeating senior year.
My parents called, and I didn't answer a single one.
The instructor had said anything that disturbed my own mood, I was allowed to refuse.
I was a top graduate. I kept that firmly in mind and carried it out without wavering.
I only went home when break was nearly over and school was about to start.
The place was the same old mess. My father lay on the floor with a swollen, bruised face, groaning and moaning.
My mother sat off to the side cracking sunflower seeds and watching TV, not sparing him a single glance.
When he saw me, his eyes lit up.
"My good girl, how much did you earn? Why didn't you answer the phone? Those debt collectors nearly beat me to death!"
He lunged at me, going straight for the bag on my back.
I twisted aside.
"You gambled again?"
He rubbed his hands together, grinning.
"I was just trying to win it back so you'd have less pressure, that's all. Bad luck, that's all. Owe a little more now."
"Not much. Just ten thousand."
At the electronics factory I stood from morning to night, ten hours a day, and made two hundred.
I stood for twenty-eight days, until my legs swelled up, and it came to just forty-six hundred.
But my father, light as air, had gone and lost ten thousand.
I'd expected myself to fall apart, to shout at him, sick of his failures: "Didn't you say you'd stop gambling? Didn't you say you'd work hard and provide for the family?"
I pressed a hand to my steadily beating heart.
Nothing.
I felt nothing at all.
As if the man in front of me wasn't worth wasting a single glance on.
Through those twenty days and nights at the correction center, the instructor set photos of my parents in front of me every hour, playing all their sob stories in a synthesized electronic voice.
The moment anything inside me wavered, he shocked me without hesitation. Even if I wet myself, he'd keep shocking me until I was immune to scenes like this and could make the most self-serving choice.
Every time I chose wrong, he'd pull up my SAT scores.
The English column, that glaring zero, was what choosing my parents got me.
And now I was home. This was exactly the test of what I'd learned.
My father paid no mind to my cold stare, his eyes darting toward my backpack again and again.
"Daddy doesn't want much. Just give me five thousand, I'll pay off the one hounding me hardest first. Sweetheart, you can't bear to see your daddy's hands broken, can you?"
He held out his bruised hands, pitiful.
Before, seeing him this wretched, I'd have handed over the money I'd worked for to pay his debts without meaning to.
I was truly afraid he'd be beaten to death, and then I'd have no father at all.
Blood, morality, pity, duty. Every one of them had dragged me down and pinned me in this swamp called family, unable to move.
But now, I only sighed mechanically and said in a cold, flat voice:
"The instructor said anything that harms my own interests is an enemy."
The first rule the correction center instructor taught me.
There's no need to go soft on an enemy.
"So how come your hands didn't get broken?"
My eyes circled over his hands, as if it were a real shame.
All he could do was gamble anyway. What did he need hands for?
He yanked his hands back fast, staring at me with alarmed confusion.
He hesitated.
"Sybie, are you just worn out from work?"
My mother stopped cracking her seeds and looked over too.
"You know I'm worn out, and you're still blocking the doorway?"
I shoved him aside and strode into my room.
Two months away, and the room had gathered a fair layer of dust.
I dropped my bag on the chair and reported the situation at home to the instructor.
"Did you go soft?"
"No. He just seemed loud to me. He's in debt, so why doesn't he go die? Death cancels the debt. Wouldn't that be nice."
"Good. Keep it up. Remember, you give an inch and they'll take ten. You're my best student. Don't ruin my reputation."
I kept the instructor's warning in my heart.
"Yes, instructor."
第2章
The old house had thin walls.
Even with my parents keeping their voices low next door, if I pressed my ear to the wall I could catch some of it.
"...why do I feel like our daughter's changed?"
That was my father.
"You know your own daughter. She's a good, obedient girl. Come dinner, I'll cry a few times, and she'll fall right back in line."
"Then your gambling debts, the household expenses, our son's tuition — all of it's taken care of."
Cold, quiet calculation.
The instructor had been right after all.
They weren't worthy.
They weren't worthy of a single cent of mine, of borrowing an ounce of my light.
Dinner, same as always, two bland vegetable dishes.
My parents ate, exchanging glances now and then. I acted like I didn't notice and ate in earnest.
Starting today, I had to prepare to hit the books again. It took a lot out of you. I needed to eat more.
Halfway through the meal my mother set down her chopsticks.
"Sybie, sweetheart, you're part of this family. When the family's in trouble..."
Here we go again.
Really ruins the appetite.
The instructor had said:
"Guilt-tripping like this, most of the time it's the parents doing it. Remember, their lives are bad because they're incompetent, not because of you."
I filled my stomach fast and set down the empty bowl and chopsticks.
"Have you got nothing left to say?"
"You've been saying this since I was little. If the family has no money, isn't that because the two of you have no ability? Since you have no ability, then don't open your mouths. Talk less, do more. That's what you should be doing."
"Also, I'm going to repeat my senior year."
"No!"
My father was worked up.
"College takes four years, and you won't necessarily earn much once you're out! Sweetheart, listen to your dad. Go to that trade school, and you'll have a job the minute you finish. Your dad's counting on you to start earning and pay off the debt sooner!"
My mother chimed in right after.
"That's right. Your cousin already said, the moment you graduate she'll get you a spot at their plant. Four thousand a month."
"It's not that Mom doesn't want you in college. We just don't have the means for it!"
She looked at me with red eyes, and on the side gave my little brother a pinch.
He started wailing.
"Sissy, I'm hungry, Sissy."
He wrapped himself around my leg. I peeled him off and threw him back at my mother.
Then I flipped the table.
The old folding table had no weight to it.
One light shove and it went over.
The second principle:
No matter who lays a hand on you, you carve your revenge into their blood and bone.
My brother was so frightened he broke into loud sobs. My parents stared at me like I was a lunatic.
It didn't move me.
I glared at my brother, out of patience.
"If you're hungry, go find your mom. If you want to blame someone, blame her. A gambling-addict husband, a woman earning two thousand a month — how did they dare have a second child?"
"You're in grade school now, you can understand words. Remember this: your misfortune was brought on by your mom and dad. Don't come to me. I don't owe you anything."
Full now, it was time to study.
I went back to my room and dug out my review materials.
The crying and shouting outside didn't stop. I fished out a pair of dollar earplugs and pushed them in, shutting out most of the noise.
I should have done this long ago.
The moment my father picked up his gambling habit and set his sights on my savings, I should have done this.
The moment my mother used blood ties to beg me to go earn money, I should have done this.
I hadn't done anything wrong.
At home, I was good to my parents and looked after my little brother. At school, I respected my teachers and helped my classmates.
I was just too soft-hearted.
I thought taking care of the family was all my responsibility.
But how old was I back then? Those were just responsibilities other people didn't want to carry, dumped onto me.
The family's hardship wasn't of my making. If anything, I was the one who kept this crumbling household from falling apart.
Everything I gave, they took as their due.
To clip the wings that would carry me out of here, my parents locked me in the house on the last day of my SATs.
They thought that would make me resign myself to it, meekly go to some junior college, and then earn money for them.
My heart ached so much.
I hated them, but I hated myself more.
Hated that I really had almost let them talk me around.
What could I do?
They were my own parents, my closest kin. It wasn't as if they'd never been good to me. If I listened to them, everyone was happy.
But I understood it clearly: if I really did what they wanted, I would rot here for good.
So I went to the correction center.
I became the first person to walk in voluntarily since the day it was founded.
第3章
Mom, Dad, and my brother noticed I'd changed.
I'd turned cold. Selfish.
No matter how they tried to stop me, I went back and repeated my senior year anyway.
I ignored the growing cuts and bruises on Dad's body, ignored Mom's back she could no longer straighten, ignored my brother screaming that he wanted a phone.
My life ran on a schedule.
Except for meals, every hour of my day went to studying.
I was stunned to find that once no one was eating up my time, my very first mock exam came out surprisingly well. Top five in the class.
Just as I thought.
They were the ones dragging me down.
Without them I'd be doing better.
That day I came home from school to find my room turned upside down.
Every inch of it, inside and out, even the mouse holes had been dug through.
I said nothing, and Mom and Dad called me to dinner like nothing had happened.
Mom took one bite and frowned.
"Why does this food taste so strange?"
Dad chewed a few times, brow furrowing.
"Probably just old rice."
I let out one cold laugh after another.
"That's the taste of rat poison."
Their faces changed completely. One bolted for the bathroom, the other grabbed the trash can, and a moment later came the sound of retching.
My brother had gone pale, his chopsticks shaking loose in his hand.
I patted his head.
"It's okay. You didn't get in my way, so there's no poison in your food."
Just a tiny bit of poison. Not enough to kill anyone, only enough to scare them.
Dad, having emptied his stomach, rounded on me.
"What is it you actually want? You won't do chores, you won't hand over money. You're our daughter, our blood runs in your veins, you're supposed to obey. When I tell you to do something, you do it! Now hand over the money!"
He raised his fist and came at me. I wasn't afraid. All I had left was the courage of someone with nothing to lose.
I slapped the bank card down on the table.
"So what if your blood runs in me? You just have to bleed me dry, is that it? Ha. Fine. Take it, if you've got the nerve. But you'd better sleep with your eyes open tonight."
"Here. Take it!"
When he wouldn't, I forced the card into his hand.
Dad shrank away from me in terror.
He shoved Mom out in front of him.
Mom wasn't as revolting as Dad, so I softened my expression a little for her.
"Mom, you take it. This is our last meal together, might as well eat something nice."
Mom's hand shook like she had Parkinson's.
She was scared.
Scared that if she took it, it really would be the last meal.
"Aah!"
Mom shrieked, shoved the card back at me, grabbed my brother, and fled to their room, Dad right on her heels.
The house went quiet. Even my brother's crying was muffled behind the door.
I reported the result to the instructor.
He was silent for a moment, then asked,
"You used rat poison?"
I shook my head. As if I'd ruin my own future over trash like them.
"Just scraped off a little wall plaster. Though I did buy the rat poison, yes."
I meant it.
If they had the nerve to ransack my room today, tomorrow they'd have the nerve to break my legs to keep me from school.
I wanted them afraid. I wanted them to weigh the cost of crossing me.
In my eyes they weren't my parents. They were the enemy.
It worked.
I made Mom hand over her paycheck card, so that money wouldn't disappear into Dad's bottomless pit too.
She handed it over meekly.
I thought, I should have flipped the table long ago.
If I'd flipped it sooner, would I already be in college by now?
How did I let trash like them drag me down for so many years...
第4章
My homeroom teacher knew how things were at home, and she asked if I needed help.
I thought it over carefully and realized I didn't.
She applied for a school subsidy on my behalf, waived my tuition, and got me free run of the cafeteria at lunch.
That gave me more time to spend on studying.
As for home, ever since they believed I'd really put rat poison in their food, they didn't dare touch their chopsticks until I touched mine.
Even talking at home, they kept their voices down, terrified of setting me off.
When you've got nothing to lose, you don't fear the people who do.
For me, getting into college and building a better future stood above everyone else.
Anyone who got in my way could go die.
But my parents wouldn't give up.
I had just finished the last hard math problem when someone told me they'd gone up onto the roof of the building next door.
A crowd of students had gathered below to watch, my father sitting on the edge of the railing while the school officials, drenched in sweat, tried to talk him down.
My father screamed himself hoarse:
"I'm not coming down. You won't let me live, so I won't live at all!"
My mother sat on the ground, slapping her thighs and wailing.
"Life's been so hard on us. We've got no other choice."
The principal had it hard too, dealing with something like this right before retirement.
"Please, calm down, sir. Whatever it is, we can talk it through."
Hearing that, my father perked up.
"Not unless you expel my daughter, Sybilla Dickerson. Otherwise I jump."
Dragged up by my homeroom teacher, the first thing I heard was my father demanding the school expel me.
My hands clenched, and when I looked at him, it wasn't the way you look at family. It was the way you look at an enemy.
My father grew more and more worked up.
"The family owes so much money. How does she have the nerve to keep sitting in school? Get out and work, pay off the debt, that's what actually matters!"
My homeroom teacher was the first to refuse.
"Sir, come down first, let's talk this through properly. Sybilla has real potential. Once she's in college, she'll earn far more money."
She tried to reason with him and appeal to his heart.
But my father was past caring.
The debt collectors were on him every day, and lately the beatings had gotten worse. If he didn't pay soon, he was afraid they'd really beat him to death.
If his daughter went out to earn money, he'd have the stake he needed to turn things around.
He took a step closer to the edge.
No one dared speak.
The officials looked at me with blame, with the eyes of people staring at a problem.
My mother stood up and moved to my father's side.
Where my father used force, my mother used the soft blade.
"Sybie, your dad and I really can't afford to keep you in school. Your father has no job, my health is bad, and we still have to raise your little brother. He's the one who carries on this family. He can't not study. But if you keep going, this whole family falls apart."
"I'm begging you. Drop out."
The dean leaned in and murmured in my ear:
"Just agree to your mom first. Get them down first."
I didn't react.
Give in once, and you give in every time.
Today they could use this to make me drop out, and next time they'd use the same thing again.
Because it worked.
And for a situation like this, the correction center had handed me the standard answer long ago.
My mother was still shouting:
"If you don't drop out, we'll really jump, and then you'll have no parents, you'll be an orphan!"
Everyone was waiting for me to react.
At last, I moved.
I stepped forward and knelt down.
"Go ahead and die, Mom, Dad."