Chapter 1
When I was three, I got lost in a crowded market. My parents blamed each other for it, and before long, they divorced.
Five years later, the police found me and brought me home.
They said they wanted me to grow up in a complete family, so they got married again.
In the second year after they remarried, my mom, Jasmine, gave birth to my little brother, Tommy.
From that day on, all their love shifted to him.
Tommy became obsessed with swimming in the reservoir. No matter how many times they warned him to stay away, he never listened.
Every day at noon, my dad, Drogo, would grab my legs, flip me upside down, and shove my head into the big water tank in our yard.
The moment the water closed over me, panic took over. I thrashed with everything I had. My nails scraped hard against the rough inner wall of the tank until they tore and bled.
Jasmine would pull Tommy over and make him stand there and watch. She pointed at my face as it turned blue and purple, and she told him, "If you ever go back to that reservoir, this is what will happen to you."
At first, Tommy cried every time he saw me like that. He kept promising he would never go near the water again.
But after a while, he started to notice something. No matter how badly my eyes rolled back, Drogo always pulled me out at the very last second, just before I stopped breathing.
Tommy began to think it was some thrilling game.
Then one day, Tommy went back to the reservoir.
Drogo was furious. He decided to teach Tommy a lesson he would never forget.
He tied my hands behind my back and strapped a heavy stone around my waist. Right in front of Tommy, he pushed me into the reservoir.
"I am going to show you what drowning really feels like today," Drogo shouted.
He thought I would struggle on the surface for a while, just like before, and then he would pull me out.
But he did not know that thick weeds had already wrapped tightly around my neck underwater.
*****
The freezing reservoir water rushed into my nose and mouth, choking me. My lungs felt like they were being torn apart from the inside.
My hands were tied behind my back. A heavy stone was strapped tightly around my waist.
I kept sinking, deeper and deeper.
Through the murky water, I looked up. Above the rippling surface, I could make out my drunk father, Drogo.
He was pressing my little brother Tommy's head down, forcing him to watch.
He pointed at me, thrashing in the water, and shouted, "Watch carefully. If you ever sneak off to swim out there again, this is what happens. I'll tie a stone to you and let you sink to the bottom just like her."
Tommy broke down, crying so hard that he could barely breathe.
On the shore, my mother, Jasmine, stood there, her face cold.
She grabbed Tommy by the ear and snapped through clenched teeth, "Why are you crying? Your dad is saving your life. If you don't learn now, you'll end up like her, drowning in water one day. Let's see if you dare go swimming again."
Tommy shook his head desperately. His face was covered in tears and snot. "I won't go anymore. Mom, I swear I won't. Please let Rosa come up. She's going to die."
"She's not going to die," Drogo said with a cold snort. He held the rope tied around my waist. "Swallowing a little water won't kill her. Today, I'm making sure you remember this for the rest of your life."
I opened my mouth, trying to scream for help, but all that rushed in was the foul, muddy water from the bottom of the reservoir.
Drogo never meant to kill me.
He had already measured the rope. Once I sank to a certain depth, he would pull it tight and leave me hanging there, like a fish on a hook, struggling right on the edge between life and death.
He was good at this game.
Ever since last summer, when Tommy started running off with the village troublemakers to swim in the wild, Drogo had been using me to teach him lessons.
Every day at noon, he would grab my hair, drag me out into the yard, flip me upside down, and shove my head straight into the big water tank.
The salty, sour water burned my eyes and nose.
I would thrash wildly, my fingernails scraping against the tank until they left bloody marks.
That was when Jasmine would drag Tommy over and force him to watch. "Open your eyes and look. This is what happens when you go swimming out there."
At first, Tommy was so scared that he wet his pants.
But after a while, he noticed something. No matter how bad it looked, no matter how my eyes rolled back or how still I went, Drogo always pulled me out at the last second and threw me onto the ground like a sack of trash, letting me gasp for air.
Slowly, six-year-old Tommy stopped being afraid. To him, it started to look like some kind of exciting show.
Yesterday, he even laughed and bragged to his friends, "I'm not scared of water. My dad said even if I start drowning, he'll pull me out. My sister goes in that tank every day, and she's still alive."
Those words made Drogo furious.
So today, during the holiday, he decided to take it further. He brought me out to the deep reservoir, tied a stone to my waist, and pushed me straight into the water.
He believed that as long as he held that rope, he could decide my fate.
What he didn't know was that the bottom of the reservoir hadn't been cleaned in years. Thick weeds covered everything down there.
As I struggled, sinking lower and lower, a clump of tough, tangled weeds wrapped tightly around my neck.