Every Time I Check My Score, It Resets to Zero Chapter 05

I became obedient.

I stopped mentioning the score audit.

I let them do whatever they wanted with me.

On the day I was discharged, the whole family gathered in the living room again.

Even Mr. Hale was there.

On the coffee table sat a waiver stating that I would give up retaking the admissions cycle and forfeit any request for a score review.

The computer screen was on, its cold light shining across everyone’s faces.

“Elena, sign it,” Mom said, handing me a pen.

I did not take it.

Dad’s face darkened. He lit a cigarette.

“Forget it. This kid’s life is probably going nowhere anyway. Send her to the warehouse tomorrow and let her work.”

Mr. Hale shook his head.

“Elena, I told you a long time ago. You inflated your own estimate to save face, and in the end, you’re the one who got hurt.”

Uncle Victor let out a mocking laugh.

“You’ve taken that much medication and still can’t face reality? God, you’re hopeless.”

“Let her look one more time,” Mom said, pointing at the computer screen. “Once she sees it again, she’ll finally give up.”

Numbly, I sat down in front of the computer.

My hand closed around the mouse.

It was steady.

Not even a tremor.

The screen was still on the score portal.

Name: Elena Chase.

Total Score: 0.

I stared at that zero.

The last bit of hope in my heart finally went out.

I gave up.

Maybe I really was sick.

Maybe all those solutions in my head had been fantasies I’d invented inside the psychiatric hospital.

For three years, every time I fought back, they only tightened their control .

They had built walls on every side and trapped me inside.

I picked up the pen on the table, ready to sign the waiver.

But as I stood, my knee accidentally hit the underside of the computer desk.

Something clicked against the floor.

A small black plug had been knocked loose.

It was the Ethernet cable.

The lights on the router beside the desk went out instantly.

In the lower right corner of the computer screen, the network icon turned into a red X.

The Wi-Fi was disconnected.

I froze for a second, then bent down to pick up the cable.

When I lifted my head and looked at the screen again, my whole body went rigid.

I stared at the red X in the corner of the screen.

Something exploded in my mind.

I finally understood what was going on.

I became obedient.

I stopped mentioning the score audit.

I let them do whatever they wanted with me.

On the day I was discharged, the whole family gathered in the living room again.

Even Mr. Hale was there.

On the coffee table sat a waiver stating that I would give up retaking the admissions cycle and forfeit any request for a score review.

The computer screen was on, its cold light shining across everyone’s faces.

“Elena, sign it,” Mom said, handing me a pen.

I did not take it.

Dad’s face darkened. He lit a cigarette.

“Forget it. This kid’s life is probably going nowhere anyway. Send her to the warehouse tomorrow and let her work.”

Mr. Hale shook his head.

“Elena, I told you a long time ago. You inflated your own estimate to save face, and in the end, you’re the one who got hurt.”

Uncle Victor let out a mocking laugh.

“You’ve taken that much medication and still can’t face reality? God, you’re hopeless.”

“Let her look one more time,” Mom said, pointing at the computer screen. “Once she sees it again, she’ll finally give up.”

Numbly, I sat down in front of the computer.

My hand closed around the mouse.

It was steady.

Not even a tremor.

The screen was still on the score portal.

Name: Elena Chase.

Total Score: 0.

I stared at that zero.

The last bit of hope in my heart finally went out.

I gave up.

Maybe I really was sick.

Maybe all those solutions in my head had been fantasies I’d invented inside the psychiatric hospital.

For three years, every time I fought back, they only tightened their control .

They had built walls on every side and trapped me inside.

I picked up the pen on the table, ready to sign the waiver.

But as I stood, my knee accidentally hit the underside of the computer desk.

Something clicked against the floor.

A small black plug had been knocked loose.

It was the Ethernet cable.

The lights on the router beside the desk went out instantly.

In the lower right corner of the computer screen, the network icon turned into a red X.

The Wi-Fi was disconnected.

I froze for a second, then bent down to pick up the cable.

When I lifted my head and looked at the screen again, my whole body went rigid.

I stared at the red X in the corner of the screen.

Something exploded in my mind.

I finally understood what was going on.