My sister is dead. Her body was laid to rest months ago, but today I received a text message from her phone. The message contained just three rules: “Watch out for anyone wearing red.” “The food Mom makes is safe to eat, but if you find teeth, nails, hair, or other things in it, do not tell Mom.” “Be home by 10 PM. Once inside, you must be in bed immediately!” 1 I was utterly creeped out. The message was absurd yet full of dire warnings. My sister died, and her phone was supposedly tucked away in a box under her bed as a keepsake. So how did it just send me a text? A cold dread washed over me. Unless... this was a delayed message my sister set up before she died. “Jessie, come and eat dinner.” My dad's voice suddenly called out. He was sitting on the living room sofa, waving me over. "Dad." I hesitated, then asked: "Did you guys touch my sister's phone after she died?" The mention of my sister made my dad frown. His expression was strange. "What did you say?" I bit the bullet: "My sister sent me a text." "A text? What did it say? Let me see." Before I could react, my dad stood up and snatched my phone. A few seconds later, a faint smile appeared on his face. "Someone must have stolen your sister's number. You don't need to worry." "You really don't need to worry." My dad repeated the phrase like a broken record. Then, he smiled, picked up the fork from the coffee table, and violently stabbed himself in the throat! His suicide was sudden, decisive, and done with incredible force. The metal tines pierced his throat. "Dad!" I screamed, rushing toward him. Bright red blood poured from my dad's throat. He slumped onto the sofa, the faint smile still plastered on his face. "What's wrong?" My mom walked in from the kitchen when she heard the noise. The moment I saw her, my pupils constricted. My mom... she was wearing a red dress! Yet, she always hated the color red; she didn't even allow red items in the house. 'Watch out for anyone wearing red.' The message flashed in my mind again. Cold sweat prickled my back. I instantly felt wary and defensive toward my mom. "Why is your father dead?" My mom's face showed no sign of grief, and her voice was completely flat. It was as if the person who died wasn't her husband, but a stray cat. "I don't know." I kept my guard up, shaking my head. "Dad called me for dinner. When I came out, he had already stabbed himself." Investigators arrived quickly. They were dressed bizarrely. They were men, yet they wore blood-red, ankle-length dresses. My mom claimed my dad was stressed and suffered from severe depression, leading to suicide. She was lying! My dad wasn't depressed! He told me this morning that he was taking me swimming this weekend! I blurted out: "That's not true! Dad he..." "He what?" The investigator stopped writing, twisting his head to look at me. I gasped, my heart hammering against my ribs! The investigator's appearance had warped. His face was stretched long, his eyes were far apart, near his temples—as alien and sudden as a snake's head. "Why aren't you speaking?" His head remained still, but his ominous, jaundiced eyes slid sideways, watching me. "Please continue to elaborate!" 2 "My dad... he was indeed very depressed. He often wanted to kill himself." I forced the words out. The investigator nodded impassively, zipped my dad's body into a bag, and wheeled him downstairs. Their movement when lifting the body was a strange, horizontal glide. As they turned the corner on the stairs, I saw a large, greasy-looking tail poking out from beneath one of the red skirts. My eyes widened. My breath was shallow, and my hands and feet started shaking uncontrollably. The world had fractured. From the moment I received that text from my dead sister, the world had become alien and grotesque. "Dinner time soon. I need to get your sister's meal ready." My mom turned and headed back to the kitchen. Through the doorway, I saw her hunched over a cutting board, violently chopping meat with a cleaver. The meat didn't look like pork. It had thin skin, no visible fat, and a grayish-white color, like it had been frozen for too long. Thump, thump, thump. The sound of the chopping was deafening. I covered my ears and bolted out the front door. It looked like rain; the sky was a dull gray. People were strolling around the neighborhood. Some were walking their dogs, some watering plants, and others playing hopscotch. But, without exception, they were all wearing red clothes. As I passed them, a wave of sheer terror washed over me. These people looked like they were minding their own business. But their eyes were tracking me. Every move I made, their eyes followed! The little girl playing hopscotch was the worst; she was hunched over, leaning forward, but her face was twisted almost 180 degrees to stare at me! Cold sweat poured down my spine; I was shaking all over. "Sis, what are you doing?" Suddenly, a bright, clear voice called out. My younger sister, Lily, was walking toward me, carrying her long-braided doll backpack. "It's getting dark. Why aren't you going home?" I quickly looked at Lily. She wasn't wearing red; she had on a white princess dress. I exhaled in relief. "Dad died, and Mom is acting strange." Lily's face instantly went paper-white. "Did Dad see the text message?" My eyes widened. "How do you know?" "My sister sent me a message, too." Lily raised her arm and tapped her smartwatch a few times. The tiny screen displayed a message. “When Dad sees the message I sent you two, he will surely kill himself.” “His death is punishment for breaking a rule.” “If you don't follow the rules, you will definitely die too!” Rules? Were the three sentences in my sister's text message the key to survival? My heart dropped. I urgently asked, "What time is it right now?" Lily looked confused. She backed out of the text screen. The main watch face showed 9:59. "Run!" I screamed, grabbing Lily's hand and sprinting toward our apartment building. My sister's final rule emphasized: we must be home before 10 PM and immediately get into bed! We live on the third floor. If we ran fast enough, we could make it in time. But after only two flights of stairs, my feet felt like lead; every step was agonizingly difficult. "Lily, why are you so heavy?" I turned back and saw a horrifying sight. The doll on Lily's back had turned into a bloody, raw baby's face! 3 "What's wrong, Sis?" Lily looked up at me, clearly bewildered. "Nothing! Let's just run!" I turned my head, ignoring the wrinkled baby's face. "Ah!" Lily suddenly shrieked. In my peripheral vision, I saw the infant clinging to her back, aggressively biting her shoulder. Lily's white dress turned red as blood dripped onto the concrete stairs. I knew this grotesque infant was trying to stop my sister and me from getting home. "It hurts so much." Lily threw off my hand. She crouched down, clutching her shoulder in agony. "I can't run anymore!" "No!" My nerves were stretched taut. I screamed at Lily: "If we don't run, we'll die!" "It really hurts, Sis. It hurts so much I feel like I'll die if I move." Lily shook her head, gasping for breath. I frantically looked up at our apartment, only one flight of stairs away. The apartment lights were off. The red front door was open, an incomprehensibly deep black hole. "Sis, you go first." Lily cried, twisting her shoulder, trying to dislodge the thing on her back. But the infant seemed welded to her skin. It wouldn't let go. "Stop wasting time!" I raised my hand and, for the first time ever, slapped my sister across the face. Lily flinched, then stood up, her eyes red, and pushed me away. I fell to the floor, scraping my palms on the cement. The pain ignited my fury. I didn't waste another word, hauling her up by her arm and forcing her to run. Dad was dead, Mom was changed. I desperately didn't want my only sister to die too. As we reached the third floor, the hallway light flickered on. The dim light illuminated our doorway, faintly revealing a pair of feet wearing a red dress. The feet were pressed together, bare, with startlingly white, almost goat-like skin. I gritted my teeth, dragged my sister inside, and rushed into the apartment. Click. The house lights turned on. Under the harsh, blinding light, Mom stood there in a red dress, barefoot, holding a plate with an impassive expression. She spoke, her lips barely moving: "Time to eat." The plate held slices of meat, pale white, piled high. "Mom, we need to go to sleep." I pulled Lily toward our bedroom. Lying on the soft bed, I tightly shut my eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. Fortunately, in the final minute, we followed the text message rule: we got inside and lay in bed. I now completely believed in the rules. Because once we were home, I saw that the biting infant on Lily's back had turned back into the harmless, braided doll. Lily’s shoulder was completely unmarked; there was no wound or blood. "Sis..." Lily whispered my name shortly after lying down. I quickly put my finger over her lips, making a 'shushing' gesture. Lily went silent. I took her hand and wrote on her palm: 'Remember Big Sister's text!' The third rule was: 'Be home by 10 PM. Once inside, you must be in bed immediately!' If we just slept, as the rule instructed, we would be safe tonight. Then, a sickening, grinding sound started up. I knew that sound. When I used to eat Mom's braised chicken feet, I’d snap the bones, letting them break through the skin, then eat the boneless foot. But this sound of bone and tissue tearing was loud and jarring. It sounded like human bone separation... Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. I tightly clutched Lily's hand, unable to relax. "Sis." Lily spoke again, her voice hoarse, filled with fear and pain: "My watch is one minute behind standard time." My heart dropped. That meant we hadn't gotten home on time. So, was the horrifying noise I was hearing now the punishment for breaking the rule? No! No, the punishment wouldn't be that mild. Because Lily's hand bones were gone. I had just been holding her hand, but the bones in her palm had suddenly vanished. Her hand felt soft and rubbery, like a plastic glove filled with warm water. Filled with absolute terror, I frantically felt her stomach, arms, shoulders... Everywhere was the same. There were no hard bones beneath her skin. I opened my eyes in panic. Lying next to me was a corpse. A body completely drained of bone, looking like a human-shaped skin suit filled with water, soft and slack on the bed. It was my sister. She was no longer beautiful. Her face had melted like quicksand, erasing her features, looking twisted and utterly decomposed. "Sis." Lily desperately forced her eyes open. The melted skin finally separated into a thin, black slit. It was her dark pupil. She mumbled something indistinct: "Don't... believe..." Before she could finish, thud. A sharp crack echoed. The flower-shaped ceiling lamp crashed down. It landed squarely on Lily's head. Red blood and white brain matter splattered all over me... 4 I screamed hysterically and blacked out. When I woke up again, Lily's body was gone. The room was pristine, free of any blood. I didn't even have any horrible, bloody stench on me. I looked up. The lamp was hanging exactly where it should be on the ceiling. Only Lily was missing. I stared at the lamp, feeling a bizarre sense of confusion. Lily and I had both gone to bed at 10:01 PM. Why was Lily dead, but I was still alive? After a long period of thought, I realized that the time specified in the final rule wasn't objective time, but the time we subconsciously accepted based on a clock. I always believed I got home at 10 PM, so I was spared. But Lily was aware of the delay; she felt guilty. Therefore, the invisible hand of the rules extracted her bones and killed her. Suddenly, a strong aroma of roasted meat drifted in. The smell came from the kitchen. I stumbled out of bed and saw my mom with her back to me, using tongs to flip slices of meat in a frying pan. Her long black hair was loose. She was still barefoot, and her toenails were painted with red polish. But thankfully, she was wearing a white dress now, just like Lily's. "Your sister is dead." My mom said it without turning around. It was as if she had eyes on the back of her head. I tightly clutched the doorknob, afraid to get too close. "How did she die?" "You should know very well." My mom turned around, looking directly at me. Her face was strange. Her eyes were red and swollen, like she had been crying in pain over Lily's death for a long time. But starkly contrasting that grief, her lips were painted with bright red lipstick. "I don't know." I shook my head. "I was asleep. I don't know how Lily died." My mom’s expression turned sorrowful. She said, word for word: "The light fell and crushed her head." The image of the blood and brains splattering my face flooded my mind. My fingers, gripping the doorknob, began to tremble uncontrollably. "Lily died, but why is there no blood on the bed? Why is there no sign that anyone died here?" "You slept for two days. I cleaned everything up so you wouldn't be upset when you woke up." My mom paused. She suddenly reached out and touched my head. "You've slept for two days. Are you hungry? Go sit in the living room. I'll bring you dinner." Her palm wasn't cold; it was warm. The touch on my head made my nose sting. I wanted to cry. In one day, I had lost my dad and my sister. Her affectionate touch felt like the familiar, loving mom I knew was back. "Silly child. Go wash your hands and get ready to eat." My mom patted me gently. I went to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. The moment the water hit my hands, my eyes narrowed sharply. My mom lied! I hadn't been asleep for two days! In fact, I might have only slept for a few minutes! The scrape on my palm from falling after Lily pushed me was still beading blood! But Lily died. How could my mom have cleaned the room in mere minutes? A more terrifying thought struck me. I only slept for a few minutes. That means I hadn't followed my sister's final rule. After 10 PM, I had not stayed in bed!
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