Okay, let's get back to my life now. My mother seemed quite happy after marrying Uncle Zheng. She smiled much more often. Uncle Zheng was wealthy, and my mother and I lived better, ate better, and dressed better than before. But this happy life didn't last long; all of that happened a long time ago. I remember about four years ago, my mother and Uncle Zheng suddenly moved me out of that beautiful house and to where we live now. Later, I learned that Uncle Zheng had gone bankrupt. And then, the nightmare began all over again…
I need to readjust my emotions again, otherwise I might do something hurtful in a moment of anger, and that would be a huge loss. At the very least, I need to record that beast's behavior as evidence for his future crimes. Okay, I have to continue. After Uncle Zheng went bankrupt, my mother was forced to go out to work, working from dawn till dusk, and I almost never saw her. And that man, the Uncle Zheng I used to talk about, became an unemployed bum, and a henpecked and alcoholic one at that. I felt sorry for my mother every time I saw her being beaten. I also hated her, hated that she destroyed my peaceful life, hated that she and my sister were separated. Every day I watched them argue and fight, caught between love and hate, until I became numb to it all. Until the day before yesterday, I realized what a real nightmare was.
My mother went to work, leaving me alone in the house. I picked up the water glass on the table and took a sip; it was cold. I didn't turn on the light, just as now, lost in thought, staring at the rain outside the window, listening to the sound of it hitting the broken glass. Everything was so coincidental—a loud clap of thunder, and suddenly my room light came on. I turned around and realized it wasn't a coincidence; he was standing in the doorway, turning on my room light. I called him Uncle Zheng, just like before. He reeked of alcohol; I could smell it from a distance. I don't know what I said wrong, maybe it was the way I addressed him, but anyway, he suddenly became angry. He rushed to my side, raised his hand, and slapped me, muttering that I was an ungrateful wolf cub. I didn't cry, nor did I resist; I just lay down on the bed, motionless. He… he yanked me off the bed, his hand raised halfway up. I could only turn my head slightly and close my eyes. I silently counted the seconds, one second, two seconds, but I didn't feel the burning pain on my face. I wondered if my face had gone numb from being slapped so much. Later, I mustered the courage to open my eyes and glance at his hand. His hand had fallen; it hadn't struck my face. I looked at him, and only then did I understand what fear truly meant. His eyes had changed; they were no longer the eyes of an uncle. I felt like I'd seen that look before. I remembered—it was the look he gave my mother a long time ago. A terrible thought flashed through my mind, but I tried to convince myself it couldn't be. The terrifying thing was, it still happened. He kept demanding repayment, and all I could do was struggle and cry. I hated myself for being so weak, unable to stop him. Finally, he lost his temper again, and another slap landed on my face. This time, he used all his strength; I could feel the blood trickling from the corner of my mouth. His hand reached towards me again, slowly tearing open my clothes, touching my body… Later, I was too weak to resist, too tired to cry, and I became like a living corpse, letting him do as he pleased. If I had any other feeling besides pain, it was only the humiliation in my heart. I wanted to die, I really did. His breathing stopped, and I caught sight of the pencil sharpener beside me. I seized my opportunity, finding the only way to salvage my dignity. But his reaction was too quick; all I could do was slash his face hard.
And then? There was no "and then." My mother? Of course she found out, but I don't know what he said to her, and in any case, my mother didn't take any further action. Thankfully, I'm still alive. I still have the strength to take revenge.
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