Darkness didn't bring sleep. It brought .

  I practiced. I practiced. I practiced until the black-and-white squares of the chessboard blurred into a single, hazy color. The strange noises from the men my mother invited faded to dull buzzes, easily shut out. I pored over those three chess books she bought me, reading them backwards, then forwards, again and again.

  “That’s check,” I murmured, moved my bishop to take my mother’s rook. It had been a short game, as far as our matches went. We hadn’t even gone fifteen moves deep yet. “No, this…is checkmate?”

  It wasn’t that some part of me didn’t know that the game was over. It was simply that most of me couldn’t quite believe it. My mother stared at the board, her frown lines deepening. She was smarter than I, and if I saw it, she must have too. I’d actually won, for once.

  I should have felt good, but anxiety twisted in my stomach instead. My mother didn’t move for a long time. She just kept staring at the board, as if will alone would open up a new option that wasn’t there to begin with. My nerves frayed a little more with every second.

  I saw something I rarely do. The hint of a smile, the faintest upward arching of her lips. Was she…happy?

  “Mom?”

  She looked up at me. I flinched. The half-smile was gone. There wasn’t indifference in her gaze; that’s something I was used to. This was…something else. Sharper. Something I was used to.

  "Want a medal?" she hissed, reached over, and almost dismissively knocked her own King off the board. She stood and turned away.

  “But-”

  “But?” She looked at me again. “It’s a stupid game for children. Just moving pieces on some pointless eight-by-eight square. Don’t get ahead of yourself," she said, my name, one swallowed by memory.

  I didn’t feel angry. I felt numb. There was only ever one rule in this house, one tenet that informed everything else. My mother was always right, and a good daughter listened.

  We never played again after that. She never looked at me quite the same, either.

  There was a dull ringing somewhere in the distance.

  “Out.” A single word, said with all the venom in the world. Despite that, my mother had a smile on her face, one so obviously fake I didn’t understand why she bothered.

  Mindy looked at my mother, looked back at me. I slowly nodded, trying to flash her a smile I hoped was reassuring. She reluctantly stood, walked past my mother, and headed outside. My mother closed the door behind her.

  When she turned, that smile was gone. Replaced with a blank expression more unnerving than any frown would have been.

  “You’ve been going outside.” Not a question, nor an accusation. A statement.

  “Y-yes.” My own gaze had moved to the floor.

  “I told you not to.” My mother’s voice was empty. “I told you.”

  I shifted in place. She had told me not to. I’d done it anyway. She stepped closer. There was a crack. My cheek stung, burning pain quickly starting to spread across my face. It had been a while since she’d done that. She must have been really angry this time.

  “It’s that girl, isn’t it? She’s putting these ideas into your head.”

  I looked up at her, wishing I hadn't. Her face was dark. "She made you think you could do something I said not to."

  “N-no, it was…it was my idea.”

  "You’re not seeing her again. I should’ve kept her out, no matter what her mother said."

  "You can’t!" I shouted, not realizing I'd raised my voice at her.

  Something dangerous flashed behind my mother’s eyes. “Can’t? I can’t?”

  My own anger faded as soon as it had come, replaced by the terror. The worthlessness. My mother knew best. She always did. Why had I done something she’d told me not to?

  “I’m sorr-”

  “Stop bullying her!”

  I hadn’t heard the door open. My friend stood in the doorway. She’d always been taller than me, but I couldn’t help but think that the difference was even starker now somehow.

  “This is none of your business, girl. This is between family.” My mother snapped.

  “We are family,” Mindy said back as she stepped forward. Her words were shaky, and her lower lip was trembling. It didn’t feel like she was afraid, like I was. It felt like she was angry. She was also right. We were first cousins, after all. I preferred to think of her as a friend instead.

  She looked at me. “Say something! Don’t let her-”

  “Don’t make me tell your mother,” mine warned.

  "Go ahead! I’ve got things to tell her, too. You can’t treat my friend like-"

  My mother’s hand lifted. I knew what she was about to do -that knowledge came from experience. Without thinking, my feet moved. Before I realized, I stepped between them, and now pain shot through my other cheek to match the first.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” My mother glared down at me. Froze for a moment. “Don’t look at me like that. Don’t look at me like that!”

  “You can’t just-”

  I brushed off my friend's arm, looked back at her. “Please go.” Whatever she saw in my face made her stop in place. Seeing her like this made something inside me twist. She shakily nodded, backed away.

  “Now you grow a spine?” My mother sneered. “How dare a daughter look at her mother like that?”

  "I’m sorry," I mumbled, anger gone as soon as Mindy left. Something settled inside me, swelling until I thought I’d burst. "I’m sorry."

  My mother clicked her tongue. “Can’t you ever do a single thing the way I tell you to? Is that really so hard?”

  She didn’t hit me again. I would have preferred if she had.

  White noise filled my ears.

  We moved cities after that, and I never saw my friend again. Silence took the place where Mindy’s laughter had once been.

  My heart hammered in my chest. It sounded more like a drum than an actual organ. I bent forward, letting the face scanner peer at me.

  The door opened. I stepped inside and closed it behind me. My beating heart still didn’t quite steady. No wonder. I’d snuck outside, for the first time in years, and I’d taken the Proficiency Exam. It had been surprisingly easy. The people might have been dismissive when they’d realized how old I was. The actual examination drones didn’t care about things like age.

  Just planning the trip had taken so long and incorporated so many risks. It reminded me of Mindy. I still can’t believe I’d done something like this without her.

  The door gingerly closed behind me, bolting shut on its own. I knew my mother’s schedule. She wouldn’t be back from her work for a few hours yet.

  “Where were you?”

  I froze.

  My mother staggered into view from another room. There was a green bottle in her hand. Even at a glance, I could tell it was half-empty.

  “Where were you?” She asked again, stepping closer this time.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  I didn’t have an answer to give her. There was no excuse, not when I got caught red-handed like this.

  “You went…outside for the…exam, didn’t you?” There was the faintest of slurs to her voice. A hint of red to her cheeks.

  I nodded, and she struck me. The ringing was familiar. The sharp pain that came with it was familiar too. My mother had long nails, and this wasn’t the first time she’d carve tiny cuts along my cheek.

  “I told you not to.” She muttered. “I begged you not to.”

  “Why?” I hated how small my own voice sounded.

  “You’ll fail.” She drawled. “Then everyone will know that my daughter is a failure. Everyone.” She spoke with nothing but pure certainty.

  I’d thought the exam had gone well enough, but just hearing that tone and the certainty behind it sliced deep.

  “You…you don’t know that.”

  She sneered, raised the bottle high. For a second, I thought she’d hit me with it. Something in her face shifted; she lowered her hand. “We’ll see.”

  She stalked off. I watched her go. No matter how much time passed, I knew I would never understand my own mother.

  For once, however, I actually felt a little good about myself.

  "I’m so sorry," my mother said, her voice dripping with a sweetness that made my skin crawl. She placed the paper face down on the desk. "I tried to warn you. You’re just... not built for their world."

  “What?”

  “You failed.”

  Just two simple words, and yet they were enough to run me through. I stared up from the novel I was reading, at my mother who’d barged into my room. I saw an expression I didn’t often see on her face: a smirk.

  “I told you. I told you you’d fail. You did. I wanted to protect you. Why didn’t you listen?” She tossed a paper on the ground. It slowly floated, falling a few feet away from me. I reached for it with trembling hands. It was the result of my Proficiency Test.

  The Proficiency Test was designed to test everything. Everything from the hard sciences to obscure specializations in Philosophy. It was a test you were designed to fail, simply because nobody actually needed to be tested anymore. There was no point. Not in this world where an Artificial Intelligence handled everything.

  Just like my mother had said, I’d failed. The results ranked me in a percentile for every subject the exam covered, and I was just… average? After all of that, I was just…normal. The paper crumpled in my hand. It was shaking.

  The paper was yellow. Had been yellow. It looked grey to my eyes now. Everything did. The trembling stopped, squashed under a weight I couldn’t see.

  “You managed to hurt yourself again,” My mother sighed. “You’re just not built for that world. Don’t keep hurting yourself. I wasn’t below a 94th. On anything.” There was a pause. “At least now you know. ” Her voice was trembling. Was she that disappointed in me?

  Static drowned out everything.

  She had warned me, and I hadn't listened. There was only ever one rule in this house. My mother was always right, and a good daughter listened.

  I should have just listened.

  There had been a persistent buzz for some time now. Impossible to forget. It didn’t matter. Did anything?

  My stomach rumbled. I had been ignoring that for some time now. You needed a certain caloric intake just to keep your brain functional, but mine didn’t matter anymore. It was just…average. Just like everyone else’s. Everyone but hers.

  It was arrogant, honestly. Why would I be different? Hell, why did I need to be any different? It still stung.

  My stomach rumbled again.

  “Fine,” I muttered, and rose. My legs cracked. I’d been sitting still for a very long time. I cast one look around the room. It didn’t have the life it used to. I didn’t ask her for books anymore, and didn’t find much in the books I already had. Now, this place was just empty. Save for the bed, anyway.

  I opened the door, knowing full well my mother would know. She kept track of these things. It would probably be fine.

  The apartment outside was far better furnished. My mother wasn’t home. She didn’t like me coming outside, not that I wanted to anyway. The cold light of screens filled the room. There weren’t any windows. Cool, recycled air filled my lungs.

  I dragged myself over to the kitchen. Cooking was something I was clueless about. It was also too much effort. There were nutrition pellets instead; just one was enough to meet a person’s needs for a day.

  They came contained in small, cylindrical tubes. Absent any branding at all. These were medicinal items, though it was hard to see why. I mixed one in with water, staring as the swirling water finally settled into something cloudier. I stared at the cup for a very long time. Did I have to drink this?

  Why? To stay alive? What was the point in that?

  I brought the glass up to my lips. It was bitter enough to make my face scrunch on reflex. I coughed, almost dropped the glass. Bile rose in my throat, and I pulled myself to the sink right as I started to vomit. I didn’t even know I could. When was the last time I’d had anything?

  “Damn it.” I groaned and slowly lifted my head. I didn’t feel like trying again. My stomach still needed time to settle. There was pressure building behind my eyes. The beginning of tears, though the tears themselves never came. It was just another thing wrong with me.

  I stepped over, reached out, and picked up a knife before I’d even realized. The steel glinted in my hand, cold against my skin. I touched the edge with my palm, gently. It was a sensation. One of the few I’d felt in a long time.

  “You’re being stupid,” I muttered. I should have been able to let go of the thing. I didn’t.

  After all, I was worthless, wasn’t I? If someone was truly worthless, wasn’t the only worthwhile thing they could do to end their own lives?

  My gaze drifted through the apartment, towards a closed door. My mother didn’t like it when I left my own room. She’d expressly forbidden me from ever stepping into hers. I made a decision. I might as well see it, if I was going to do what I planned to.

  I swallowed. My hands clenched. I gingerly made my way over to the door. I expected it to be locked as I reached for the doorknob. It opened.

  I expected my mother’s room to be just like her: elegant. Refined. Tasteful.

  It wasn’t. Her room didn’t look all that different from mine; it was only a bit larger. It was also messy, horribly messy. Between the clothes thrown haphazardly on the floor, the dirty dishes in one corner of the room, and all the…envelopes?

  I stooped down, picked them up with my free hand.

  [IMPORTANT NOTICE.]

  [TIME SENSITIVE.]

  Most of the envelopes had that written on the outside with red ink. I opened one, read it. Let it drop. It was…an unpaid bill from the Autonomous Transport Network. It had been due for six months. I opened another, this one from the Climate Stabilization Levy. It was fourteen months overdue. I opened more, and all of them were bills.

  In this world, every digital notice had to be accompanied by a physical one. There were probably more then, ones that hadn’t just been dumped here.

  It didn’t make sense.

  The ringing was getting louder. It was getting hard to think.

  One of the envelopes did stand out. I recognized the logo on the front, the one that belonged to the Bureau of Cognitive Forecasting. Why would this be here and…why did this have my name on it? I reached for it. It was already open. A page slipped out. My results. I’d never forget that distinctive yellow color.

  It was the mirror to one I had already read, and yet it was so different at the same time. The results were all different. I’d scored in at least the 96th percentile on almost everything. It was just above the cutoff you needed to get an actual job. Just above the cutoff, one needed to be ‘useful’.

  Wet drops fell on the paper. It took me a second to recognize my own tears. My arms shook; something choked me from the inside. A weight pressed me down until I was on the floor. My brain, forced to a standstill for so long, started to run once more.

  “-sra!”

  A sound, from somewhere far away.

  “What are you doing here?” Even in the middle of my sobbing, I froze. Turned and stared up at my mother. Her presence alone blocked the faint light coming from outside, casting a shadow over me.

  When had she come in? How had I not heard? She looked angry. That wasn’t a surprise. The fear in her eyes was. I had never, ever seen her afraid before.

  “Mom…what’s this?” Despite the crying, my voice came out oddly steady.

  “Nothing. Give it to me. You don't understand what that means.” She sneered, stepped forward, and reached down to snatch the page. I didn’t let it go. “Give me that.” She hissed. “That has nothing to do with you.”

  “Nothing?” I whispered. “Nothing?”

  “Nothing.” She struck me again. I fell over, and she snatched the page out of my hand, stepped back, and turned. “I should have torn this stupid thing. You think a piece of paper changes what you are? You're nothing without me. You stay until I say you can leave.”

  “Leave…where?” I whispered.

  I didn’t expect an answer. “You think you're better than me? Because of a number on a page? You are nothing without me. They want you? Over me? After everything?” That one statement carried the vitriol of a lifetime.

  The knife was in front of me, lying on the ground.

  Habit made me want to curl up. Go back to my room. Go back to the stillness I knew all too well. I didn’t need to think about this. Not right now. Perhaps not ever.

  I never had. What right did a worthless girl have to say something in front of a mother the world called brilliant? Except…my mother wasn’t brilliant. Perhaps she had been at some point and no longer was. Maybe not even that. I hadn’t realized that, despite seeing it.

  I’d wanted to believe.

  The ringing was unbearable now.

  The ringing vanishes. The world stilled. That single cry silenced everything else, cut through them like an impossible sword. It was louder than the ringing had ever been.

  I broke the one rule. A mother was always right, and a good daughter always listened.

  I reached for the knife and managed to get up to my knees.

  There was a tearing sound as yellow paper hit the ground. I screamed and charged forward, stabbing the blade into my mother’s leg. She let out a scream of her own, turned, staggered, and then fell on her back. I fell on top of her. Everything was red. The knife felt like it was made of fire.

  “You bitch! Ellaine don’t think this will end with just a beating!”

  Right. Ellaine…that had been my name. Why had I forgotten something so important?

  I stabbed with the knife again, right at my mother’s throat. Her hands stopped me, grabbed my wrists. Her arms were much stronger than my frail ones. This could have only ever gone one way. I didn’t care. I strained as hard as I could, frail hands struggling against adult ones. They started to ache. I was already out of breath. The hilt was starting to slip.

  The knife moved back. My wrists twisted, her teeth gritted as we fought over the blade. It slowly moved closer towards me, slipping out of my grasp entirely.

  Time seemed to slow down. I’d always thought my mother beautiful. I’d always liked the tiny lines in her face, even as she always tried to cover them up. I saw ugliness there instead. She was just a woman after all.

  Something else drew my gaze. It was her eyes. Full of venom and hate. Even so, they widened, filled with shocked, confused horror.

  There was a burning. I was the one who’d been stabbed. I stared down at myself in horror, at the wound right above my collarbone.

  Blood filled my mouth. My mother stared up in horror, the first time I’d ever seen genuine concern on her face. I tried to speak, but I coughed up blood. I fell on my side.

  Darkness crept in at the edges of my vision. My body started to get cold, and then numb. A part of me knew I was dying.

  “Look what you made me-” My mother was shouting, her words blurred.

  “-wake up -tch!”

  That distant voice was louder, oddly loud. It was a girl’s voice, sharp and violent.

  I didn’t feel despair. I felt…I felt anger for the first time in a very long while. I hoped the wound I’d given her would scar. I wished I could have killed her. I wish I could have done this all so much sooner.

  I at least wanted to see Mindy one more time. To apologize. She’d fought for me when I’d never fought for myself.

  I stared at the knife. My own blood covered its edge, dripping onto the floor.

  The knife vanished. It was replaced by a blade as bright as the sun itself. Pristine white steel glared back at me. Its light seemed to cut through the dark clouds surrounding me.

  “ESRA!” The girl’s voice was louder.

  The light grew until it consumed the world.