Chapter 2
I tried to tear the weeds off with my tied hands, but the more I fought, the tighter they squeezed.
The rope suddenly went taut.
On the shore, Drogo felt the pull and let out a sneer. "Still fighting, huh?"
He yanked hard. That one pull dragged the weeds tight across my throat. The force sliced straight into my windpipe.
A burst of bloody bubbles rushed out of my mouth.
My eyes bulged as I stared up at the blurred shapes above the water.
And then, in that moment, a memory flashed through my mind.
Five years ago, the police brought me home. I was eight back then.
When I was three, Jasmine had taken me to the market.
She let go of my hand for just a moment to argue over the price of something, and that was all it took. A trafficker grabbed me and disappeared.
Five years later, the police raided their hideout and sent me back.
I thought I was finally home.
But the first thing I heard was Jasmine complaining to Drogo.
"If she hadn't wandered off, we wouldn't have blamed each other and gotten divorced," she said. "I've been living like a ghost these past five years. And now she just shows up again as if nothing happened."
They got remarried for my sake. They said they wanted to give me a complete family.
The next year, Tommy was born.
From that moment on, I became the most unnecessary person in that house, the one nobody wanted.
In their eyes, I was the reason their relationship had fallen apart, the one who ruined everything.
A dull crack sounded from my spine.
My vision started to fade.
In the final second before everything went dark, I felt the old nylon rope around my waist snap.
It couldn't take the weight of the stone or the pull of the current.
With a sharp snap, it finally broke.
Then suddenly, I felt light.
I floated there, suspended, watching as my own body sank lower, wrapped tight in the weeds, disappearing into the darkness at the bottom of the reservoir.
Not even a ripple reached the surface.
On the shore, Drogo was suddenly jerked forward by the snapping rope and fell hard onto the ground.
He cursed as he got up, staring at the broken rope in his hand. For a moment, he froze.
Jasmine brushed the dirt off him with a look of disgust. "What are you doing? How did the rope break?"
"The stone probably got caught on some rotten roots down there," Drogo said, sounding casual as he brushed off his hands. "The knot must've come loose in the water."
Then he turned to Tommy, who had already curled into a tight ball, shaking with fear.
"Did you see that clearly?" Drogo asked. "Rosa's stuck down there now. She's not coming back up. If you ever go swimming out there again, I won't even bother tying a rope to you."
Tommy's whole body trembled. He burst into tears and clung tightly to Jasmine's legs. "I won't go anymore. Mom, I swear I won't. I'm scared. I don't want to die. I'll never do it again."
A satisfied smile slowly spread across Jasmine's face.
She gently stroked his head, her voice soft but twisted with something sick. "Good. It's better if you're scared. Your dad did all this for you. Come on, let's go home. I'll cook your favorite food tonight."
Not one of them looked back at the water. The surface was strangely calm.
No one thought about how a fifteen-year-old girl, tied up and sunk deep underwater, could ever come back alive after the rope snapped.
My soul drifted behind them, dazed, following them all the way home.
By the time I got there, the smell of dinner had already filled the living room.
The table was covered with hot dishes, steam rising into the air.
There was no place set for me. There never was.
Even when I was alive, I wasn't allowed to sit at the table. I would squat by the trash can in the kitchen and eat whatever leftovers they didn't want.
Jasmine carried a plate over and kept piling meat onto Tommy's plate.
But Tommy didn't pick up his fork. He just sat there, staring out into the dark night beyond the door, his voice shaking. "Mom, where's Rosa? Why isn't she back yet?"
Jasmine's face darkened. "Why do you care about her? She only brings bad luck to this family. She won't die that easily. She probably climbed out somewhere and ran off again."
Drogo took a sip of alcohol and smacked his lips. "Let her stay out there in the cold for a night. That'll teach her. She didn't listen back then. She wandered off, got kidnapped, and made the whole village laugh at me."
He slammed his glass down hard on the table and pointed at Tommy. "She owes this family for that. What's wrong with her suffering a little? That's just making use of trash."
When I heard his words, something in my soul shook hard.
I remembered the first month after the police brought me home. I was eight. I tried so carefully to please them. I took over all the housework without being asked.
I thought if I worked hard enough, if I behaved well enough, maybe I could make up for those five missing years.
Then one day, I got a high fever. I was burning up, drifting in and out of consciousness.
Through the haze, I heard Jasmine's voice outside my door. She was laughing, cold and sharp, talking to Drogo.
"Now that she's sick, we have to spend money on medicine," she said. "We should've never looked for her in the first place. Now she's just a burden. And later, she'll have to split the family property with Tommy."
From that moment on, I understood something clearly. In this house, I was nothing but a burden.