Chapter 3

The next morning, Mom was in too much pain to get up.

Before Grandma could speak, I ran out. “Grandma, I’ll do extra work today. Can Mom rest for a day?”

“If Mom gets too tired, no one will help you with chores.”

Grandma looked at Mom’s suffering face and grumbled, “Frank, honestly, why does he hit her so hard?”

But she still compromised, dragging me off to the fields.

After a moment of thought, I asked Grandma, “Grandma, how did you catch Mom the first time?”

Grandma glared at me. “What are you prying about, kid?”

I whispered, “If Mom tries to run away again, I can help you find her. I don’t want to lose you, Mom.”

Hearing this, Grandma patted my head, pleased. “Good girl, that’s what I like to hear!”

She lowered her guard around me and recounted, boastfully, “That hussy first ran away in the middle of the night…”

Grandma told me that night, Mom, confused by the paths, ran in the wrong direction and ended up circling back to the village.

Old Man Henderson, who was up early for work, saw her and brought her back.

Grandma laughed at how foolish Mom was, but I felt a chill run down my spine.

How desperate Mom must have been then, thinking freedom was within reach, only to find herself right back in the lion’s den.

I fought back tears, forcing a smile. “Grandma, if there’s a fork in the path, which way leads back to the village entrance?”

“Of course, it’s the path to the right, where the old well is.”

I nodded. “Okay. If Mom runs away next time, I’ll trick her into thinking the right path leads to freedom.”

Later that night, I took out the mirror and told Mom, “I found out you were caught because you ran in the wrong direction.”

“Sister, when you get to the back hill, and you see a fork in the path, whatever you do, *do not* go right. Remember, the right path with the abandoned well—don’t take it!”

Mom on the other side of the mirror nodded solemnly.

After just one day, her face was already swollen, blood staining the corner of her mouth.

My heart ached as I gently touched the mirror’s surface. “Sister, you have to escape!”

Escape, forget me, and find your own family.

The next morning, I opened my eyes.

And saw Mom’s rough, sickly yellow face, still covered in fresh bruises.

I sat up with a start.

Why…

Why was Mom still here? Why hadn’t I disappeared?

My hands trembled as I reached out to touch her cheek.

The next second, Mom opened her eyes.

“What are you doing?” she asked coldly.

My voice shaky, I replied, “Nothing… nothing, Mom. I just wanted to touch you.”

“Hoping I was dead, weren’t you? Too bad for you, I’m still alive, still here to make your life miserable.”

Mom painfully propped herself up, her voice laced with sarcasm.

As she moved, I saw a new scar on her arm.

It was long, like a twisted earthworm writhing on it.

My pupils contracted sharply, tears streaming uncontrollably.

Mom failed to escape…

And was beaten again.

Mom’s gaze followed mine to the scar, and she shivered, as if recalling a painful memory.

The next second, she slapped me hard. “What are you crying about? Playing the dutiful child now? Trying to make me feel more sorry for you? More attached?”

“If you knew how much hell I live in here, you never would have run out and called for me that day!”

“What good is acting all sympathetic now? It’s too late. Everything’s too late!”

I covered my stinging face, feeling a wave of injustice.

That day, I hadn’t known she wanted to escape.

I only knew I’d stolen a plate of roast chicken, wanting to give it to her.

My good intentions backfired, and I only caused her more harm.

“I’m sorry,” I choked out.

She turned her head, annoyed. “Stop pretending!”

The atmosphere fell silent, only the buzzing of mosquitoes filled the air.

After a long while, I cautiously asked, “Mom, how did you get caught the second time you ran away?”

Her gaze drifted through the narrow wooden slats towards the sky, and surprisingly, she answered me.

“The second time I ran? The second time… was when I was forced to marry that animal, Frank Miller.”

“I took advantage of them drinking outside, gnawed through my ropes in the room, then climbed out the window and ran.”

“I ran and ran, until I finally saw a road. On the road, I saw a stranger, and I thought I was saved. I rushed over and begged him.”

“I told him I’d been kidnapped. Please save me, take me to the police. I’ll give you any money you want.”

Mom’s voice caught, as if a savior truly stood before her.

“That man was so kind. He said, ‘Don’t worry, young lady, I’ll take you to the police right away.’ So he led me through winding paths, walking for a long time.”

She paused, and my breath hitched.

Then, Mom’s tears flowed again.

“But then! That two-faced monster tricked me right back to the Miller house! He laughed and said he was Frank Miller’s uncle, here for his nephew’s wedding, and I was the 'grand gift' he delivered to his own nephew!”

My face stiffened, my hands trembling uncontrollably.

Yes.

Mom was right.

The Millers, they were all animals.