Chapter 8
Ryan said in a low, heavy voice, "Yeah, I just can't think of any better way."
My heart was in my throat.
Standing in the dim doorway, I felt my whole body go stiff.
The voices started to fade into the background.
The doctor said, "That's pretty much impossible.
"The guardian would have to have extremely severe mental health issues.
"They'd need a history of violence or child abuse.
"Only then could they possibly lose custody of the child.
"Mr. Lewis, no hospital or doctor would ever sign off on a fake diagnosis like that."
Suddenly, something heavy slammed down hard in the living room, shattering on the floor.
My clenched hands suddenly trembled.
Instinctively, I stepped back, hiding in the shadows behind the door.
I heard Ryan's voice, a guttural, resentful whisper, barely holding back his anger.
His voice shook with a chilling, hopeless sorrow.
He said, "She told me she tried to run away once, four years ago.
"She almost made it, but someone stopped her right at the last moment.
"Her hands are messed up now. She can't play piano, can't paint, nothing.
"Her face... you wouldn't even recognize her now.
"She used to break down over a single pimple, and now her skin's turned so rough and coarse just look at her."
His voice trembled so much, it was barely audible.
He said, "Dr. Miller, how can this be fair? Tell me, how can this be fair?
"That criminal ruined almost everything for my sister, and my parents died heartbroken.
"And now the law is forcing her, forcing the Lewis Family, to raise the child of the man who hurt her."
I kept stumbling backward.
With my head spinning, I quietly closed the door behind me.
I slipped back into total darkness.
At last, I finally figured out what everyone thought was wrong with me.
I was the child of a human trafficker.
People like him deserved to die, and so did I.
I'd heard people in the village say Dad couldn't find a wife.
So Grandma went and bought him a wife off a trafficker.
Grandma and Dad were just as bad as the traffickers.
My throat and head felt like they were on fire.
I shrank back into the corner, not daring to leave for a drink.
Big drops rolled down my cheeks.
Maybe it was sweat, maybe it was something else.
I licked the corner of my lips, tasting something salty and bitter.
I lowered my gaze, staring at my own feet.
But there was nothing, just darkness stretching on forever.
Everything started to blur again.
I remembered what Ryan had said.
Mom tried to run away four years ago, but someone tripped her up right at the last second.
Ryan had no idea.
It was me who stopped her.
I was just three years old.
That was the first time Mom ever got a chance to take me into town.
She managed to ditch Dad and Grandma, who were tailing us.
She left me at a store, and was just about to hop on a bus out of town.
But I chased after her, and got hit by a car right in the middle of the street. My head was bleeding badly.
It was just instinct. I just wanted to go with her.
Before I turned three, Mom was the only person who loved me.
Mom had one foot on the bus, but she turned around to look at me, hurt and crying.
She froze for a moment, then stepped back off the bus.
She rushed over, scooped me up, and tried to make it onto the bus with me.
But the bus had already pulled away.
Some villagers from town recognized Mom and ran up, grabbing her before she could escape.
Dad and Grandma showed up and dragged Mom and me back home.
Mom was locked up in that pitch-black little room for days and days.
Through the door, I could hear her screaming and crying.
I was crying and pounding on the door when Dad kicked me hard in the stomach.
When the door finally opened, Mom wasn't the same anymore.
She didn't cry anymore. Her eyes were hollow, like bottomless pits.
She became just like the other women in the village, quietly working in the fields and on the hills, never complaining.
She never hugged me or tried to make me feel better again.
One night, I tried to crawl into her bed, but she just looked at me with those cold, empty eyes.
She said, "Why don't you just die?"
It felt like I was right back there again.
I huddled in the corner, my body burning up more and more.
I had no idea how many days I'd been burning up with fever, no one ever came to check on me.
Mom once asked me, "Why don't you just die?"
Ryan and Ethan said people like me shouldn't ever get a good ending.
It felt like flames were eating me alive from the inside.
After a while, I didn't even feel thirsty or hurt anymore.
My body just kept sinking.
Then, I felt like I was just floating away, weightless.
Maybe I was really dead now.
It happened the way everyone had wanted it to.