Where was Mom taking her this late at night? Didn’t she have work tomorrow, and didn’t Alicia have school tomorrow? The city whizzed past so fast she couldn’t discern any sign or banner. An invisible force glued her to her seat as the car bobbed up and down. Isn’t this past the speed limit?

On the sharp turns, it threw her around like a pinball. Alicia imagined this to be a mild simulation of an F1 drive.

Mom should start lecturing about now, but she did not. She remained silent; too silent. At a red light, Alicia read a street sign that informed her she was in the central area of town. This corroborated the half-an-hour Mom had been driving for.

“Where are we going?” She asked, pushing a boulder of voice up her throat. It came out dry and coarse.

Mom said nothing.

Fuck it. She turned away. Mom wouldn’t listen. Mom wouldn’t care. Mom wouldn’t understand.

So why bother? She was too lazy to talk.

Then Mom turned away from the skyscrapers. Old shop-houses replaced them, stretching as low as three storeys. Wooden windows replaced glass ones, which revealed the sorry state of the flats inside, and those who lived in them. Bedrooms with only a mattress and a standing fan were common. All the lighting came from fluorescent bulbs, an outdated invention, and laundry hung over them.

These streets were one power outage away from annihilation.

“Where are we going?” She pushed another boulder.

Was the drive the punishment itself? Were they going to Malaysia? Dear god, was Mom tossing her to the goblin cousins? The boulder dropped to her gut, sloshing its juices about.

She tried every trick in the book. First, agreeing. “I understand it is wrong to be writing letters to Dad, because Dad is a horrible person! And I should’ve told you those things instead, because you are my mother, and you deserve to know things about me!” followed by the smoking gun, “I should’ve shown you more respect, and be more grateful to all the sacrifices you made for me. I love you.”

Mom didn’t turn around.

Second, apologising, “I’m sorry for writing letters to Dad. I’m sorry for getting angry at you. I’m sorry for talking back, and showing you my attitude. I’m sorry for misbehaving, I’m sorry for my poor grades, I’m sorry for not studying hard, I’m sorry for being a bad girl! I will never talk to Kat or play video games again. I’m sorry!” She bowed her head.

Mom didn’t turn around.

Third… promising. “I’m sorry! I’ll behave! I’ll show you respect! I am grateful for everything you’ve done for me! I love you Mom! I love you!” She panted, “I don’t want to end up like you! I will never end up like you! I will study hard, get good grades, get into medical school, and secure myself a good future! I will get married to a good man and give your grandchildren! I will make you proud, I promise!”

Mom didn’t turn around. Why wasn’t this working?

Stores began closing. Metal grills pulled down, lights shut off, doors locked. It was like the creepy mall at Dr Wang’s clinic all over again. She swallowed a ball of air. Mom had been driving for a full hour.

Someone along the streets lit a cigarette. A junkie. Her lips quivered. “I’m scared! I want to go home! I want to go home! I want to go home now!”

Mom, say something, please.

“I love you, I love you, I love you!”

The car crawled to a stop. They were here; whenever here was. All she could see was two giant numbers blinking so rapidly that it hurt her eyes to look at, ‘9’ and ‘1’. Ninety-one. Ninety-one what? It took her a second to identify this structure as a hotel, those dirty ones she saw in movies.

A gang of dishevelled people played the vending machine like a band of instruments at a concert. The roof was the drums, the buttons were the keyboard, and the poster was the bass.

“Are they junkies?”

“What do you think?” She killed the engine.

Wait, what? They were getting… out? She gulped again. Heart skipped a beat.

“Get out of the car and walk one lap around the motel.”

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What? “No! They’ll hurt me!”

“Or… I’ll check you in for a night, and leave you here until tomorrow morning. Out. Now.” Mom banged the window.

“They’re dangerous people! I’ll die!”

“Out.”

She shook her head as fast as she could and hid herself in her face.

Mom went back to silence.

“I understand! I know my mistake! I should work harder, I should behave more, I should take things seriously! I am a disappointment! I am bad, I am weird, I am skinny… I should eat more… I am a failing student! I am terrible!”

Without the air-conditioner, the air became like viscous hot glue. Gooey swabs of humidity stuck to her skin, yet it was cold to the touch. Meanwhile, the body inside was red hot. Did she need to warm up or cool off?. From her periphery, she swore she saw a rat come out from the sewers below and ran behind the trash bin.

Said trash bin overflowed with plastic bags, styrofoam boxes filled with uneaten food, infested with ants and flies, and unfolded cardboard boxes surrounding it. It wasn’t a trash bin anymore, it was a landfill.

Tears flowed again. She knew Mom hated that. “Please… Mom…” She tugged the devil woman’s arms and looked into her eyes. There was nothing in them. “Please…” If she stood even one foot out, those junkies would circle her like vultures and kill her. These people preyed on young flesh like her’s, because they were perverts, Mom said so. The drugs made them murderous: long-term use of nicotine significantly increased the likelihood of violence, self-directed or towards others. Science said so.

She tugged Mom harder.

“I’m counting to three.”

“No! No! No!” The tugging became thrashing. Arms and leg crashed against the window, the seat, the seat belt. If she cried hard enough, displayed enough fear, Mom would bother. This had to be a trick, right? A scare tactic. A ruse. There was no way Mom would let the junkies have her, right? She loved her. She said she would do anything to protect her. She wouldn’t break that promise, right?

Right?

“Three.”

Right?

“Two.”

Right?

“One.”

“MOM!” She shireked. She wasn’t religious, but she prayed to god to save her.

Mom got out of the car, came to her side, and dragged her out by the same ear. That wrinkled hand suck its claws deep into the lobe, threatening to puncture it. Her feet dragged across the stone-cold gravel, cutting across all the loose rock in the way. The smell of the landfill slapped her, evoking a gag. Not wishing to vomit, she held her breath. They reached the front desk.

She screamed, and screamed, and screamed. Until her throat hurt, until her voice went, until it felt like bleeding occured. Someone here must be normal. Someone here must have the basic human decency to save a poor girl in trouble. Someone here must come rescue her.

Mom dinged the bell. The security guard took their own sweet time to wake up and stretch. No one would save her. No one cared. No one bothered. Not her teachers, not her classmates, not Kat, not her cousins, not her aunties and uncles, not Mom. No one.

She had to rescue herself. Fuck Mom.

But first, she had to calm the earthquake inside her, using the deep breaths Kat taught her. A moment of calm arrived after five-or-so breaths, which was more than enough. Alicia sprung into action.

A jaw against a claw. She unhinged her mouth and sunk it into the wrinkled hand. Mom yelped, screaming profanity in chinese and hokkien, and released her grasp. Freedom.

She picked a direction and ran.

“Alicia!” Mom screamed and chased after her.

Keep going. Even if her chest exploded. Even if needles stabbed both ends of her stomach, penetrating further with each step. Even if the air smothered her.

The path slanted up and down, which was contrary to her muscle memory that expected her legs to land flat. The split second discrepancy was like a jumpscare, resulting in a flinch that threatened her balance.

She made turns at random junctions, complicating the way back until it was beyond her. Mom’s voice faded after the fifth, but she only felt safe after the tenth. Acid ate her stomach as a replacement dinner. Against her will, she decelerated.

There was traffic again. Cars zoomed left and right. Their honks shrieked into the night sky. Louder than the MRT at this distance, louder than Mr Kumar’s Death Whistle. It was enough to turn her deaf.

A Ferrari sat closest to her by the red light, flaunting its engine for all to hear. This caused a harder flinch, which sent one foot in front of the other, sending her to the floor.

A second pulse formed in her forehead. It supplied pain, not blood. The left ankle shattered into a million fragments, contained within the surrounding muscle and skin. A different fragment poked her with each force exerted.The black smoke from the engines smothered all the air in the world, choking her out.

The traffic lights did a thirty second countdown as pedestrains crossed. Every article of clothing she wore was soaked in sweat and tears. The natural dirtiness of the floor left faint spots of brown and gray across her legs.

The world kept screaming, screaming, screaming.

She ducked into a fetal position, doing all she could to pull its voice out of her head. Punching it, pulling her hair, stomping her foot, all three at once. Nothing worked. It wouldn’t stop.

Only one face stood against the sea of chaos. That devil woman. Her wrinkled claw, her vacant eyes, her mother. Her mother who raised her, changed her diapers, cooked her wonton noodles, tied her ponytail perfectly, bought her a phone, held her close when she had nightmares…

Why would she do this?

Alicia knew the why, she just didn’t want to admit it. Behind the frenzied hair, her face tried squeezing both eyes out of their sockets.

The traffic light turned green. The ferrari revved its engine again.