Chapter 4

I wanted to say so much more. But all I could hear was Michael's voice, so full of hate. "Why do you always have to be like that man, haunting me and sucking the life out of me?

"I would rather be penniless. I just want... I just want to truly get rid of you."

All those things I wanted to say were caught in my throat, and in the end, not a single word would come out.

He wasn't stupid. James only took me in for the money Michael handed over. He must've known that, too.

The wind swept through the yard, rattling the leaves restlessly.

I felt nearly overwhelmed with shame.

I lowered my head, and in the moonlight, I saw his shadow stretching out behind him, long and lonely.

The words slipped out before I could stop myself. "I'm not like that man."

No matter how messed up things got, I swore I'd never turn out like him.

Michael didn't say a word for a long time.

Even without looking up, I could almost sense the bitterness and frustration in his stare.

After thinking it over, I finally spoke up, my voice barely above a whisper. "From now on, I won't make things hard for you anymore or keep holding onto you."

If he would rather be penniless, give all his savings to James, and give up anything to get rid of me, then I thought that after ten years, I might as well let him have his wish for once.

With my head down, I noticed his hand at his side. Its fingers trembled for a moment.

After a long pause, he gave a low, bitter laugh. "Sounds nice, but you'll never actually follow through."

He strode away, as he did when he left the courthouse. It was as if he was afraid that if he slowed by even half a step, I would catch up and cling to him again.

I lifted my head, watching his back as he walked away. In the quiet of the night, I whispered, "I'll do it."

I still went back to that room, without another choice.

The girl who'd gotten hurt in our fight was still sitting by the window, working on her homework.

Or maybe she wasn't doing homework at all but had already lost her mind.

Even though Michael promised to cover her medical bills, it was obvious that James clearly only cared about taking the money and had no intention of getting her to a hospital.

As soon as I walked in, she panicked, looking like she was about to snap all over again.

So I grabbed my blanket and headed out to the hallway, making myself a bed on the floor.

The girl came out. She stood blocking the doorway, eyeing me defensively, as if she was scared I'd barge in again.

After thinking it over, I moved my blanket farther away.

I set it down right by the wall, as far from the room as I could get.

My fingers wouldn't work right anymore. It took me ages to get the blanket laid out.

I lay down with my clothes still on, the moonlight hitting my face. It felt kind of cold.

Out in the grass, the crickets and cicadas chirped on and off, their sounds drifting through the night.

My mind was a mess, and I couldn't stop replaying those hateful words Michael had thrown at me. "Why do you always have to be like that man?"

I felt kind of low. I zoned out, my mind wandering to distant times and places.

Michael and I came from a poor village.

Back when my parents were still alive, Dad was an abusive gambler, and Mom endured it all, never standing up for herself.

When Michael was little, he couldn't stand seeing Mom suffer, so he'd always stand between Dad and Mom to shield her.

Because of that, he took more of the beatings than Mom did.

Then, when Dad was pushing forty, he got drunk one night and forced himself on Mom.

All her life, Mom barely had a dollar to her name. She begged him for money to get something to stop a pregnancy, but all she got was a beating and a bunch of curses.

After that, she ended up having me when she was already getting on in years and nearly died giving birth.

Michael lost all hope. He was completely devastated.

Once he grew up and started seeing things clearly, he told Mom he wanted to help her escape. But Mom refused.

She told Michael, "Since I got married, I should follow my husband. No matter how bad your dad is, he's still the man I rely on."

After that, Michael stopped standing up for Mom.

So the wine bottles Dad grabbed when drunk and the sticks he snatched at random all ended up landing on Mom's body. And sometimes they landed on me, still wrapped in swaddling clothes.

Mom was at her wit's end, so she broke down and cried to Michael. "Mike, your dad's going to kill Eve and me. Why won't you stand up for me anymore?"

That year, Michael was already over ten.

He'd started hanging out with some street punks and picked up how to throw a punch.

He was still a kid, but he hit hard. Dad started backing off, not daring to mess with him anymore.

Michael shot Mom a cold look. "He's the man you rely on, right? So why are you coming to me?"

Mom buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably.