Chapter 1

Nine years ago, my three-year-old sister died in an accident at home.

In public, my parents wailed and lamented, as if they wished to follow her into the grave.

But behind closed doors, they’d only twist my thigh viciously, screaming, “You worthless piece of trash! Why didn’t you die with that little bitch?!”

And my younger brother, who seemed to have a monstrous streak born into him, would nonchalantly rip apart the only floral dress my sister had owned, muttering, “Who told you not to give it to me?”

I heard my mom’s hysterical screams as soon as I reached the apartment building entrance.

“You useless brat! Where the hell have you been?!”

The moment I slid the key into the lock, she yanked the door open. Her hand shot out, grabbing my hair with a brutal force, pulling me inside. “Goddammit, you little tramp! You dare play disappearing acts on me?! I’ll show you today…”

My mom had always been a woman of swift and brutal action.

She was the same when she hit me now, striking without a second thought. She didn’t care if the door was open or closed, how many neighbors were watching, or that I was a twenty-five-year-old woman with a right to some dignity.

I took it silently. Wherever she dragged my face, I followed, my body swaying like a rag doll under her blows. It wasn’t until she tired herself out that I finally got the chance to collapse on the floor, gasping for air.

She turned to spit a few times at the nosy neighbors in the hallway, then slammed the door shut and kicked me. “Speak up! Where have you been these past two days? Huh?!”

Every inch of my body was burning with pain, so I tried my best to press myself against the cold concrete floor, answering her in a voice that was surprisingly calm. “I had a minor surgery, in the city. My phone got lost, so I couldn’t…”

“Surgery?” My mom sneered, grabbing my hair again, and warned me, “Don’t you dare try anything funny!”

I didn’t say a word, keeping my eyes fixed on the clumps of dull, yellowish hair she’d ripped from my scalp, scattered on the floor.

“Go cook,” my mom said, assuming I’d surrendered. She rolled her eyes, turned, and plopped back onto the sofa. “Your brother’s about to be home from school. Hurry up.”