Chapter 2

I looked up at Uncle Sam, the village chief not far away, my eyes lighting up.

I wanted to speak but couldn't make a sound. I only felt my cheeks burning with pain.

My mom leaned against the car door with a satisfied smile.

"A new product from the company. It'll keep you quiet for a while."

My dad added his threats from the side:

"Behave yourself sooner rather than later, or you'll regret it."

I curled my lip in a cold smile.

Hmph!

It was only because they couldn't force me.

Every time they tried to drug me or drag me to the hospital, I turned the tables on them.

Plus, they were important people who cared about their reputation.

I was different. If they dared to touch a hair on my head, I'd kill them.

Seeing my silence, my dad pulled out a video and shoved it in my face.

He gripped my chin, forcing me to watch the content.

"Think carefully. If you don't agree, you'll have a spot in there."

Looking at a group of people lying in a pigsty, stuffing rotten fish and shrimp into their mouths from the manure pit, I rolled my eyes.

Idiots.

The one person I'd never fear was Uncle Sam.

When did he develop a hobby of keeping people like pigs though?

Uncle Sam dealt with human traffickers like these every year.

At first, I thought I'd been abducted by them too.

Day and night, I prayed for God to tell my biological parents to come take me home.

But gradually, I realized the uncles and aunts in the village were all very kind to me.

Slowly, I let go of that hope.

But when news came from my biological parents, my heart couldn't help but skip a beat.

Mom and Dad should be different from the uncles and aunts, right?

So I caught the earliest train before dawn to meet them.

But now it seemed these parents were better off dead.

I pressed my lips together, butted my head forward, and knocked the phone away.

I struggled to my feet and ran toward Uncle Sam.

My dad's last bit of composure vanished. He grabbed my hair and yanked me back.

Furious, he raised his hand and slapped my face several times.

"I see you won't cry until you see your coffin."

I was beaten until I saw stars, collapsing limply to the ground.

Blood trickled down from my nose.

He immediately let go in disgust, hurriedly pulling out a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his hands.

Seeing this, my mom raised her hand to check her watch.

She tugged at his sleeve.

Not to plead for me, but to tell my dad to hurry up.

"Claire needs to take her medicine soon. If we're not there, she'll throw a tantrum."

My dad glared at me, the muscles on his face taut.

"Claire can't stand the smell of blood, and this disaster deliberately got it on me."

"If she wasn't still useful, I'd really want to lock her in this village forever."

Watching their careful, anxious manner, and the natural tenderness in their eyes when they mentioned Claire—if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would have thought that in my memories, Mom and Dad would treat me the same way.

That they'd see me as precious, worry about me being sick and not taking my medicine properly.

My mom stared at the tears flowing from the corners of my eyes and paused.

Then she frowned:

"So ugly. If it weren't for the paternity test, I'd really doubt whether I gave birth to her."

"Darling, hurry up and deal with her. I really don't want to stay in this godforsaken place for even one more second."

My dad nodded and pulled out an iron rod from the back seat.

He grabbed my collar and dragged me dozens of meters, tossing me aside like garbage.

Then he aimed at my right leg and smashed down.

As he prepared to strike a second time, I whimpered and cried, crawling toward Uncle Sam who had walked over.

He stared at me, a trace of reluctance showing in his eyes.

"This must be the person sent here to learn obedience."

"That's enough. Leave her to me to handle."