Serena found herself hidden in the staffroom after Cheryl had barked orders at the part-timers to work faster, and not let her catch them using their phones again. Otherwise, she’d fire them.

Cheryl kept eyeing the door as she spoke, as if sharing classified government documents: Zack ran away from home the same day and time as Alicia did, and she’d like to lend her a helping hand in finding them.

Feeling a loss for words and pressure to respond, she repeated everything Cheryl said as a question. Cheryl suggested they go over to hers and search for clues in Zack’s room before doing the same in Alicia’s.

Serena agreed.

Cheryl always decorated her house as if it was Chinese New Years. Everything in it was designed to maximize luck and minimize misfortune. Feng shui took priority over function. A giant ‘fu’ was plastered in the bedroom, and by the TV sat a mandarin orange plant.

But once misfortune struck, Cheryl lost faith in these superstitions, and tore them all down. For better or worse, the house replaced its festive personality with another; a can of worms. The tiny bin in the corner overflowed with cardboard boxes and plastic bags sporting every food brand known to man, but that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was the cans of beer balanced on top of it.

“I didn’t know you drank.” Had losing Zack reduce her to this, or reveal her to be this all along?

“I don’t.”

Sweat broke out as she stood by Zack’s door, hesitant to enter. If only she had such self-control concerning Alicia’s room. It annoyed Cheryl.

“Privacy?” Cheryl felt as offended by this as a teacher hearing foul language from their students. “Privacy allowed them to run away from us, Serena! This is what happens when you don’t keep tabs on your kid!” The sketchbook she threw almost hit Serena in the eye, if not for her quick reflexes. “Look through that. See if there’s anything useful.”

The first page alone sent her jaw to the floor. It was a sketch of… Alicia. Her ponytail, her uniform, her little habit of playing with pens. He captured everything with such detail that it warmed her eyes.

“Oh, my god! You never told me Zack was so talented at drawing!” Out of everything Cheryl boasted about, how did she leave this unmentioned? She had a Van Gogh in the making!

“Ugh!” Cheryl grunted, snatching the sketchbook from her hands. She tore it out, squeezed it into a lifeless ball, and threw it in the corner.

Serena went white. “Why did you do that?”

“I always told him to focus on his studies, and he never listens! No matter how much I try, Someone needs to beat some sense into that boy! And he’s so clever, choosing to draw… It’s not like I can confiscate paper from him! He needs paper to study!” She tossed the sketchbook back to Serena and opened the second can.

“Calm down! I mean… Zack could use his drawings to get into a good school through DSA. And even if he can’t, it’s still an impressive talent.”

Serena flipped through the other pages, which held previous versions of the Alicia sketch. The trial and error he went to capture the girl’s features.

“Talent…? You think this talent can earn any money in the future? Serena, this weak-minded attitude of your’s is exactly your problem! You Are Too Soft On Her!” She wagged a finger.

She excused herself to the couch while Cheryl continued searching. Cheryl didn’t notice, nor did she notice her missing husband. Above the TV laid something that no Singaporean family was complete without; a cane.

Did it hurt more or less than the clothes hanger?

Dr Ling’s stance on it was… well, he didn’t have one. Contrary to her expectations, the discussion was not clear-cut, and she wasn’t the villain for doing that to Alicia.

The only clear-cut thing was how much his questions stunned her. Even if she could see it coming, she never saw it coming. It got under her skin. “How did Alicia feel when you caned her?”

Unlike his other questions, though, it wasn’t the question itself that stunned her, but what came after. Alicia felt scared, hurt, guilty, obviously. Hence, she should’ve never done it.

But that was the point.

Once a child felt scared, hurt and guilty, they will never repeat their mistake again. A child will never touch a boiling kettle again after it scalded his fingers. It was common sense.

What’s the problem?

Cheryl joined her on the couch with a comically red face. At least she ran out of alcohol to drink. She passed her yet another sketchbook. “Bottom left.”

It was an address… In Malaysia? A quick search showed the address belonging to a dingy motel.

“We leave tonight. Your car. Get home and start packing.”

But Alicia was afraid of the MRT. How could she pull this off? Unless she wasn’t alone. Unless she had an accomplice to help pull this off.

“Do you—” She froze, unable to decide if hearing Cheryl’s stance was useful or counter-productive. “How often do you cane Zack?” She looked at the wooden stick.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Cheryl burst into tears without warning. She looked away, as if talking to someone else. “Not nearly enough, clearly! I thought I had it all figured out! Where did he learn to get such guts to defy me? When I find him… I’m gonna—”

Looking back, Cheryl snapped out of her trance.

Serena endured the stench to give her fellow mother a pat on the back. Their hearts broke together.

“What if… Cheryl, I think… maybe… caning is the problem?” She winced. A million counter-arguments, all rational and self-evident, cropped up the moment these words left her mouth.

Cheryl scoffed at this. “It’s how it’s always been done, and look at us! We turned out fine!” They agreed to drive tomorrow morning to avoid traffic.

Serena drove home, forced dinner down her throat, and opened the luggage bag. Cheryl had a point; they turned out fine. All the caning, and her arms and legs were still intact. While those who were never caned turned out worse; still stuck in the village planting and harvesting crops under the sun until retirement.

What’s the problem?

Once their phones detected a dip in traffic, they set off. With their luggages in the trunk, phones in their pockets, and aluminum cans in the bin; Serena forbade any from entering the car.

This would’ve soured the mood, if not for their shared tastes in music. They filled the car with their high notes and voice cracks. Yet it wasn’t enough to ward off the emotions. Soon, they found themselves back at square one; trying not to cry over their kids.

“You know, when I was looking through Zack’s sketchbooks, I found a drawing of Alicia. I think he likes her.”

Any parent in her shoes would forbid this. Yet, the hopeless romantic in her rooted for it. There was a unique kind or romance one could only experience in their teenage hood Serena wished Alicia would. But on the flip side, once said romance ended, there came a unique kind of pain she wished Alicia never experienced.

She had mixed thoughts on this

“Ugh. That boy… he only knows how to think about girls, girls, girls! If we find him, I’ll handle it. Don’t worry.”

Hearing all this tied her stomach into knots. Perhaps she had taken Cheryl’s advice too close to heart. But who was she to doubt Cheryl’s advice, anyway? It made sense, whereas her approach drove her child away.

Well, Cheryl’s approach did too.

The checkpoint officer inspected their luggages and passports, and she prayed he didn’t ask about her red eyes.

“Have you ever ran away from home, when you were younger?” She asked Cheryl.

“Ha! I wasn’t that brave.”

“I did with my ex at the time…So stupid.”

“So that’s where Alicia got the idea from.”

They laughed painfully.

“Even if I find her… Alicia will never look at me the same way again.”

“Ah!” Cheryl swatted. “Don’t concern yourself with all that. What’s most important is we find them and get them back under control.”

“I’m serious, Cheryl. The way she looked at me…” More tears spilled. “I was so angry… I didn’t even hold back.” She imagined the bruises she left on the girl.

How could she not bleed from this?

“Ah, please. It’s not as bad as you think. Plus, their bodies will heal. You’re worrying over the wrong thing.”

“What?” Something fell from her chest to her gut. “How—What—How hard did you cane Zack, then?”

“Not hard enough.”

Her sweat chilled. “How hard?”

Cheryl noticed her face going white before she did. “What?”

“How hard?” She pulled over.

“What now? You’re gonna give me some grand speech about how caning is wrong and we should treat our children with love and kindness and forgive everything they do, and let them do whatever they want! You are gonna give me parenting advice? Need I remind you that your daughter ran away from home because you can’t control her?”

“I—”

She mustn’t agree with Cheryl, but Cheryl had a point. What’s the alternative to caning? A friendly talk over a tray of chocolate chip cookies? She already tried that. In fact, she tried everything. Caning was the last resort. Having nine hundred dollars stolen from her demanded the last resort.

What’s the problem?

“I was kind enough to help you find Alicia! And this is how you’re gonna treat me? My son is in JC! My son scored the top of his cohort! My son is a talented artist! What has Alicia ever done with her life?”

The something in her gut snapped everything inside her. “Get out of my fucking car.”

“You dare stand in the way of a mother finding her boy?” Maternal instincts. Its raw power combined with a woman of steel like Cheryl made her unstoppable.

But Serena had it too. “Out!” She screamed.

Cheryl clicked her seatbelt off and struck.

Before Serena could react, she found herself back home plastered against the wall as Ma held a stick in her hands, inching closer and closer. As a girl turning eleven, she could see that death was imminent. As a woman turning forty, she could see that it was a weak stick.

Death still felt imminent. It will never stop feeling imminent.

That’s the problem.

She shrieked like a girl turning eleven, blocked, and struck back with the strength of a woman turning fort,y channelling maternal instinct.

“Get out!” she repeated.

“Fine. I’ll find him myself, and if I do, I’m not returning Alicia back to you. She can rot all by herself!” Cheryl took her luggage and stormed off.

Serena closed the trunk and drove off.

Her colleague. No, her manager. No, her fellow mother. All the advice she took… No wonder Alicia ran away.

She read everything Cheryl said with new eyes as she waited for the concierge: ban all technology, only use tough love, and always be in charge.

No record of them. Cheryl was wrong. Fuck!

She punched her steering wheel, cried some more, and drove home. A familiar sign caught her eye an hour in on the way back. It pointed left; to a road that deviated from the highway into the forests.

That road, which the sign pointed to, led to the village. It led to home.