When Mom finally saw Ya Ting's anger, she reluctantly retreated into the bedroom, though her muttering could still be heard under her breath.
Ya Ting rinsed her wound, which had already stopped bleeding, and returned to the living room to find her mother waiting with the bandages and antiseptic prepared.
"Are you sure you don't want to see a doctor?" her mother asked, eyeing the scrape on her knee.
Ya Ting shook her head. "No need. It's nothing serious."
Her mother dabbed at the wound with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball, then applied an antiseptic and wrapped it neatly with gauze.
"I'm going to do my homework," Ya Ting announced before disappearing into her room.
But she barely got started. Within minutes, a wave of exhaustion hit her—her limbs heavy, her eyes drooping. She felt as if something had drained the strength right out of her.
"Could I have lost too much blood earlier?" she wondered.
That didn't make sense; it had only been a minor scrape. Still, her body felt like lead. "Whatever. I'll just nap for a bit."
The moment her head hit the pillow, she was out.
——
Hssss… hssss…
Ya Ting wasn't sure how long she'd slept. A strange noise pulled her from the depths of sleep. Blinking groggily, she sat up. The room was completely dark.
"I slept until night?"
She reached for her phone. 9:00 p.m.
Hssss… Hssss…
There it was again.
Now fully awake, she recognized it—it sounded like a snake.
"A snake?" she muttered, uneasy. She grabbed her phone again and turned on the flashlight, scanning the bed, then under it. Nothing. Still on edge, she got up and turned on the main light.
The room was tiny. Just a bed, a desk, and a wardrobe. Everything was tidy—there weren't many places to hide.
Nowhere else… The wardrobe? But the door's shut tight. How would it even get in?
After hesitating for a moment, she crept toward the wardrobe and slowly pulled it open. A few hanging shirts. No snake. She even checked the drawers of both the wardrobe and her desk. Still nothing.
Nowhere else... Could it not be a snake? Then what was that sound?
And then—
Grrroowl...
She clutched her stomach. "I'm starving…"
It was just her stomach growling.
Her parents were out—they ran a stir-fried noodle stall at a nearby kopitiam(a Malaysian eatery packed with food vendors) They'd left at 5 PM and wouldn't be back until 11. As usual, her mother had left a few simple dishes for her in the kitchen.
Ya Ting made her way to the kitchen, pulled out the pre-cooked food, and started eating. But the more she ate, the hungrier she got. One bowl of rice turned into two, then three. By the end, she had devoured six full bowls of rice—and was still unsatisfied. Unfortunately, the rice cooker was empty.
She rubbed her stretched stomach, frowning. My appetite's gotten worse again? If this keeps up, I'm going to get fat. But I'm still not full…
Exhaustion hit her again, inexplicable and heavy. She stumbled back to bed, turned off the light, and collapsed onto the mattress.
Barely a few minutes passed before—
Hssss… Hssss…
She shot upright, heart pounding. This time, she strained to pinpoint where it was coming from.
Hssss…
Her eyes widened.
No mistake now.
The sound was coming from her knee. Her bandaged wound.
Teeth clenched, she stifled the scream rising in her throat. Her mind raced.
She leapt from the bed and flicked the lights back on, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, staring hard at her knee.
Silence.
Nothing but the hammering of her own heartbeat in her ears.
With trembling fingers, she began to unwrap the gauze.
And froze.
The area around her wound had swollen grotesquely, ballooning like a tumor. At the center was a deep, dark hole.
She stared in shock.
Suddenly, the flesh around the hole twitched—pulsing.
Her scalp tingled. Cold sweat poured down her back.
She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. She couldn't look away.
Then slowly, the hole began to close. Then, just as slowly, it opened again.
Hssss…