Chapter 1

My daughter seemed like a completely different person!

My husband had been abusing me for years. My parents stood by coldly, even helped him sometimes.

I couldn't take it anymore. I was about to end my life.

But then, my 8-year-old daughter rushed over and slapped me across the face.

She yelled at me,

"Sarah! What the hell are you doing?! Get your act together!"

I was stunned. How could my usually sweet and adorable daughter say something so vulgar?

Her whole demeanor wasn't that of an 8-year-old at all.

My daughter’s hand was still small, but she’d put every ounce of her strength into that slap.

My face stung, a fiery throb.

She glared at me, her round eyes blazing with anger.

I was too shocked to react.

"Lily… you…"

She pointed at the rooftop ledge, her voice accusatory.

"Were you going to jump?"

My nose tingled, and tears instantly welled up. I didn't know how to answer her.

I’d raised this child mostly on my own since she was little. We had such a close bond.

She was the only person in this world I couldn’t bear to leave.

But, my darling, Mom really couldn’t go on anymore…

"Good girl, why don't you go home first? Didn't I buy you a little stuffed bunny? Go play with it for a bit."

I wanted to coax her away, but she pulled her hand from mine, her face full of impatience.

"Don't change the subject! You're going to jump, going to kill yourself, but did you even think about me?"

"As a mother, abandoning your child to an alcoholic father and just dying – is that fulfilling your responsibility as a mother?"

"And even if my dad is an alcoholic and hits you, why don't you fight back? What kind of modern woman doesn't know how to protect herself these days?"

Her small mouth opened and closed, her expression serious and stern. I was rooted to the spot in shock!

Just this morning, she was still cuddling with me, begging for a plush rabbit to be her 'sister.' She was only eight!

I quickly reached out to touch her forehead.

Was she sick?

She slapped my hand away. "I don't have a fever!"

"My dear, what’s wrong? Do you feel unwell anywhere?"

"I’m fine, perfectly fine. It's you I'm worried about. If you jump, you'll be free!"

"But think about my dad, my grandma, and your entire family – who among them will take care of me?"

The thought plunged me back into despair.

I pulled her into my arms, tears streaming down my face.

"Mom doesn't want this either, but what can I do? I can't take you with me…"

She gently stroked my back, a comforting rhythm.

"Listen to me. Neither of us has to die. They're the ones who should suffer."

"Don't worry, I promise I'll free you from all this pain."