Unhinged and Loud

Growing up, I was the ultimate good girl in everyone’s eyes. Sweet, obedient, and never talking back. It was just that my internal monologue was an absolute blockbuster. After graduating from college and entering the workforce, my corporate rage grew stronger by the day. When I finally went home for the holidays, I noticed everyone looking at me with total shock. Turns out, they could all hear my thoughts. This was my first year working, and I had transformed from a bubbly, cheerful girl into an exhausted corporate zombie radiating pure resentment. After surviving until the Christmas break, my company finally let us off. I packed my bags, boarded the train, and watched the buzzing crowd of holiday travelers rushing home. A wave of emotion hit me: God, it’s so lively. Is this what living people feel like? The burly guy sitting next to me shot me a bizarre look, but said nothing. I closed my eyes to rest peacefully, mentally belting out a pop anthem at the top of my lungs. “Stop singing! I’m trying to watch a movie!” the guy suddenly yelled at the ceiling. I jolted awake, startled, and stared at him. The big guy wore a look of utter tragedy. Silently, I shut up in my head. Just as I was about to drift into a deep sleep, a kid around five or six years old behind me started kicking my seat repeatedly. I took a deep breath and kept quiet: Don’t start none, won’t be none. Then I heard the kid’s mother say offhandedly: “Sweetie, stop kicking.” And that was it. The kid ignored her completely, hammering away at my seat for another thirty minutes. I snapped, standing up abruptly and turning around with a deadpan, chilling smile. “Could you please stop kicking, buddy?” To my surprise, the kid took one look at me and burst into hysterical wails, as if he had just seen a demon. I swear my expression wasn't that scary. The mother finally looked up, but her fury was aimed straight at me. “He’s just a child! He doesn't know any better! Look how terrified you made him! Was that really necessary?!” “A grown adult picking a fight with a little kid!” “Besides, he doesn't just kick anyone. He’s kicking your seat because he likes you! He’s just playing!” I nodded, said nothing, and sat back down. I closed my eyes and began calculating in my head: That kid’s drumsticks look pretty tender. Way softer than the last toddler I ate. The mom doesn’t seem to care much about him anyway. Maybe I’ll sneak him away when we arrive. Honestly, I could just eat both of them. My parents must be starving by now. Middle-aged meat is chewy—my parents love a good workout for their teeth. Personally, I prefer the tender ones. As I brainstormed, I turned around and flashed a sinister, unhinged grin at the two of them. Catching their petrified stares, I slowly licked my lips and let out an exaggerated, ravenous drool. This time, the kid truly went into hysterics. The mother scooped him up and practically sprinted down the aisle, muttering under her breath: “Psycho, absolute psycho!” With them gone, peace was finally restored. I closed my eyes to sleep again, only to feel someone poking my arm twice. I opened my eyes to see the big guy next to me, his face pale with suppressed terror. He frantically pointed at his phone screen. He had typed a note in all caps: “Little sister, I wasn't yelling at you earlier! Please don’t eat me!”After getting off the train, heavy rain poured down. My parents were busy cooking and tidying up the house, so they couldn’t pick me up. I hailed a cab, gave the address, and settled in. The driver kept eyeing me in the rearview mirror, trying to make small talk. When you’re out in the world, your identity is whatever you decide it is. The driver asked, “What kind of work do you do, miss?” “I do people.” “How much do you usually make?” “Depends on you.” The driver paused. “What’s that got to do with me?” “Exactly. What does my paycheck have to do with you?” Choked for words, the driver glared at me speechlessly in the rearview mirror and drove on in silence. Half an hour passed. The rain grew heavier, yet we were nowhere near my neighborhood. I tapped on my phone, saying nonchalantly, “Sir, could you stop taking the scenic route?” The driver startled, glancing back in panic, asking carefully: “Miss, you’re a local?” I smiled faintly and nodded, thinking to myself: I am a genius. Just a random bluff and I caught him red-handed. The driver caught my reflection in the mirror, his face flashing between red and pale. He slammed on the gas and got me home in ten minutes flat. Right after stepping out, I realized my phone seemed to be missing. Without hesitation, I sprinted after the cab like an unhinged track star, wildly chasing down the moving car. The driver stopped and rolled down the window, asking what was wrong. Just as I was about to shout my question, I felt my coat pocket—my phone was right there. The smile on my face froze, and the words in my throat took a sudden ninety-degree turn: “It’s raining pretty hard. Drive safe, sir!” The driver gave me an extremely bizarre look, muttered a quick thanks, and rolled up his window instantly before speeding away. It was as if he were terrified of catching whatever madness I had. Watching his taillights vanish into the storm, I indulged my inner soap opera: Darling! Don’t leave me! How am I supposed to survive without you?! In the distance, the cab suddenly swerved left and right as if the steering wheel had broken, accelerating even faster into the night. Humming a little tune, I headed home. Before going upstairs, I stopped by the pet transport counter to pick up my two cats. Over the past few years, our family’s financial situation had improved, which stirred up plenty of envy among our relatives. They often threw passive-aggressive shade our way, but everyone still kept up appearances. By the time I reached the apartment, most of the relatives were already gathered. My parents welcomed me warmly at the door. I handed the cat carriers to my mom, asking her to place them in my bedroom first. When I finished taking off my shoes and walked in, my mom was cornered by a circle of relatives. My oldest aunt, holding her little granddaughter, pointed at the cats with a smirk: “Look, sweetie, two filthy little beasts.” Hearing that, my parents’ faces instantly darkened. My face, however, remained plastered with a sweet, radiant smile. I stepped right in front of my oldest aunt and took back the carriers. I sneered in my head: To a beast, everything looks like a beast. Still humming, I ignored their weird looks and turned toward the hallway. My aunt’s granddaughter, my little niece, blocked my path, pointing at the carriers: “Cute! So cute!”Hearing that, my parents and I softened our expressions. But before we could say a word, my oldest aunt cut in again: “Cute indeed. The big one is ready for the stew pot, and the little one could use some fattening up.” My smile remained picture-perfect as I nodded: “You’re so right.” The big one is ready for the pot, and the little one needs some fattening up. Thinking this, my gaze slowly drifted back and forth between my aunt and her granddaughter. Catching my dead-eyed stare combined with an uncanny grin that looked worse than crying, the little niece burst into tears of terror. My oldest aunt’s face warped with outrage as she pointed at my parents: “Is this how you raised your daughter?!” My parents nodded matter-of-factly: “Chloe didn't say a single word. What’s gotten into you, Karen? Why are you suddenly attacking her?” “You! You people... Fine! Just fine!” Fuming, my aunt dragged her sobbing granddaughter into the back room. I happily carried my cats into my bedroom. My parents exchanged a look with me, whispering a reminder: “Keep it in check.” Their voices, however, were brimming with suppressed laughter. I blinked: Don't worry. Still, since it was a holiday family gathering, the awkward moment was quickly swept under the rug. Except at the dinner table, the little niece kept staring at me with sheer terror. She genuinely looked terrified that I was going to eat her. Swallowing a piece of cola chicken wing, I thought quietly: Cola chicken wings taste way better anyway. Guess the kid gets to live today. The moment that thought crossed my mind, I caught out of the corner of my eye the little girl breathing a sigh of relief and digging into her food with wild abandon. I couldn’t help but find it hilarious. I thought we could finish the meal peacefully, but I underestimated the firepower of nosey relatives. Sure enough, halfway through dinner, my second aunt began unloading her unsolicited wisdom: “If you ask me, what’s the point of a woman getting so much education?” “It’s far better to marry a rich husband and live a life of leisure.” “Don’t you agree, Chloe?” Ignoring the subtle look from my parents telling me to hold back, I chimed in brightly: “Absolutely, Aunt Susan. Of course marrying a great husband is the way to go.” Marrying someone like Uncle Mark, who gets drunk every single night and comes home to beat his wife. Aunt Susan really is living the absolute dream. “Aunt Susan is so right. What’s the point of a woman reading all those books?” Women should just be completely illiterate. Just like Aunt Susan, who got scammed out of her entire life insurance payout. Oh, right! Doesn't Aunt Susan still owe our family thirty thousand dollars? Maybe I should bring it up right now. After all, she married such a wonderful husband and lives such a luxurious life. Thirty grand should be pocket change for her, right? As I chewed on these thoughts, my eyes darted inquisitively between Aunt Susan and Uncle Mark. Susan turned beet red, burying her face in her rice bowl without daring to utter another syllable. Mark looked like he had swallowed a lemon, sweating with pure embarrassment. Dead silence fell over the table. Nobody dared to pick up the conversation. Under the table, my parents secretly gave me two thumbs up. Seeing her sisters completely crushed and silenced by my mere presence, my third aunt, Brenda, couldn't take it anymore. A little buzzed from the wine, her face flushed as she pointed a finger at me: “Chloe, your elders can’t even give you a little advice anymore? We’ve eaten more salt than you’ve walked miles!” I feigned shock. “Really?! Aunt Brenda, you guys are incredible!” Eating that much sodium, how have you not dropped dead from high blood pressure yet? Brenda choked on her words. She shook her head to clear her mind, softening her tone slightly: “Chloe, I’m saying this for your own good. How old are you now? Back in our day, women your age already had three kids! Aren't you worried at all? A woman who doesn't have children is defying her very nature!” I nodded along like an obedient disciple. “You’re so right, Aunt Brenda.” How did the prehistoric cavemen survive the meteor strike? Should I call a museum tomorrow? Pretty sure they missed cataloging Aunt Brenda. Brenda’s expression curdled, her lips trembling with rage: “Can’t you take good advice?! Think about it! When you grow old, everyone else’s house will be glowing with warm lights, full of family!” “But if you don't get married and don't have kids, like you young folks say, not a single light will shine for you. Who’s going to take care of you in your final days?!”