My Death Was Your Cleanest Mess Chapter 1

My mother's OCD was a physical weight in our house.

Once, when I was ten, I walked barefoot across the hardwood floor. She took the green motherboard of a broken computer and whipped the soles of my feet until they bled.

"Do you have any idea how many germs are on that floor? Are you trying to track them into every single room?"

So when Thanksgiving came around, and my little sister Naomi was walking around the kitchen, eating a slice of the greasy meat pie Mom had spent hours baking, and dropped it face down on the hardwood, my heart leaped straight into my throat. Panic-stricken, I ran to the cabinet and grabbed the heavy-duty industrial disinfectant.

But just as I sprayed the harsh chemical directly onto the pie to neutralize the grease and bacteria, the front door clicked open. Mom walked in. The moment her eyes fell on the greasy smudge on her pristine floor, her face contorted in absolute fury.

"Maeve! What did I tell you before I left? Why is this floor filthy?!"

I held up my hands, desperate to explain, but Naomi beat me to it.

"Maeve said your pie tasted like cardboard, Mom! She threw it on the floor on purpose!"

I stared at my sister, my stomach dropping in sheer disbelief. But Mom didn't hesitate. She believed her instantly. Her hand clamped down on my forearm like a steel vice. I thrashed wildly, trying to break free.

"It wasn't me! Naomi dropped it—"

But Mom wasn't listening. Slipping on a rubber cleaning glove, she scooped up the grease-soaked, chemically drenched pie slice from the floor and shoved it violently into my mouth.

"You've learned how to lie now, have you? How dare you throw dirt on your little sister!"

But Mom... that pie was dripping with concentrated disinfectant. Were you trying to sanitize the germs inside my stomach, too?

* * *

I collapsed onto the floor, coughing violently, dry-heaving as I tried to purge the toxic pie from my throat. Beside me, Mom's voice was chillingly calm.

"Go ahead. Throw it up. See what happens."

My entire body froze. I didn't dare move an inch.

"Mom..." I choked out, my throat already starting to sear. "There was... there was disinfectant on it..."

Mom's expression flickered slightly. "Disinfectant?"

A tiny spark of hope flared in my chest, and I nodded frantically, tears streaming down my face. She turned her head toward Naomi.

"Naomi, is that true?"

Naomi put on a look of wide-eyed, innocent confusion. My heart hammered against my ribs. Please, not this time. Don't lie this time.

"I don't think so," Naomi mumbled softly. "I thought Maeve just grabbed the spray bottle and hadn't even used it yet."

My heart plunged into a bottomless abyss. A violent shudder ran through my entire body—whether from pure terror or the agonizing heat already blooming in my stomach, I couldn't tell.

The irritation on Mom's face hardened into cold disgust.

"Maeve, how many times have I told you? Honesty is the only thing that matters. How did you turn out like this? I have worked myself to the bone raising the two of you alone, and you can't even maintain a shred of basic decency? You are a profound disappointment."

It felt as though my chest were packed with hot cotton. The concentrated chemical was burning its way down my esophagus; I couldn't breathe, let alone speak. All I could do was shake my head frantically.

Mom, please. I'm not lying.

But once Mom made up her mind, nothing on earth could change it. She stared down at me with deep pity and shook her head.

"I thought that when confronted with the truth, you'd at least have the grace to admit your mistake. Instead, you double down. You don't possess a single fraction of your sister's character."

Tears blurred my vision, spilling over my cheeks. But Naomi was the one lying. She always did. Since we were kids, Mom had always favored Naomi, harboring some stubborn belief that the younger child was inherently more innocent, more truthful.

Last year, when Naomi stole a chocolate bar from the grocery store and blamed it on me, Mom cornered me in the parking lot, demanding I empty my pockets. I sobbed, begging her to believe me. But she only looked at Naomi.

"Your sister saw you do it. Why are you still lying?"

It was only after the store manager checked the security footage that my name was cleared. I had felt a brief surge of triumph, expecting Mom to force Naomi to apologize and finally stand up for me. Instead, she had merely brushed it off.

"Naomi is younger. She didn't know any better. You're the older sister—you should be more accommodating. Demanding an apology like that only damages her self-esteem."

My world had dimmed in that moment. It damages her self-esteem? But Mom, what about mine? Did you ever consider how much it hurt to be publicly humiliated in front of a crowded store?

Mom's sharp voice snapped me back to the present.

"Maeve. Since you refuse to apologize, I'm done dealing with you. I was planning on taking both of you to the Winter Wonderland resort tonight. But now? Naomi and I are leaving without you. Go to your room. I don't want to look at your face."

Winter Wonderland. The one place I had begged Mom to take me a thousand times, always to be met with excuses. I wanted so desperately to go. But my throat was screaming, my stomach was a pit of acid, and Mom would never let me join them anyway.

From behind Mom's back, Naomi poked her tongue out at me, a silent, mocking smirk plastered across her face.

I kept my head down, swallowing the rising tide of heat in my chest, and limped back to my bedroom. After all, in Mom's eyes, I was nothing but a nuisance. As I closed the door, I heard her scoff.

"Look at her, still playing the victim. Naomi, sweetie, promise me you'll never end up like your sister. A liar through and through."

"Don't worry, Mom," Naomi replied, her voice sweet and compliant. "I'll never be as bad as Maeve."