hapter 6
“If you don’t want to study, drop out. You’re already eighteen. Your father and I have no obligation to support you. Earn your own money! Everyone else’s daughters can buy houses and cars for their parents and siblings—why can’t you?”
I slammed into the cold wall behind me. My lips split, the sharp sting spreading in waves. My chest ached too, not the sharp kind of pain, but something heavy, thick, impossible to shake off.
I looked up at her. My eyes burned, but no tears fell.
I lowered my head and laughed. “I must be unlucky to have parents like you.”
The laughter faded. A single tear slipped down, unseen by anyone.
What kind of mother thinks in the filthiest way about her own daughter, then humiliates her in front of everyone?
Once her child turns eighteen, she refuses to spend a cent more. Instead, she dreams of being showered with money, as if an eighteen–year–old can magically become rich overnight.
She waters the soil stingily, then wonders why the tree never grew tall.
I said nothing. I only stared at her in silence.
The commotion drew hospital staff. A few nurses stepped in, pulling her away, sending both of them out.
One nurse, after hearing what had happened, handed me a disinfectant wipe. She dabbed at the blood on my lips, her face full of sympathy.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t expect your mother to misunderstand you like that. This is my fault.”
I shook my head lightly.
“It’s not your fault.” I took the tissue and pressed it against the wound. “It’s not my fault either. It’s theirs. Their thoughts are vicious, their morals rotten. They judge others by their own ugliness.”
The nurse hesitated, then spoke carefully. “Something isn’t right. You’ve lost too much weight. You don’t eat, you can’t sleep. These could be signs of a psychological condition. Our hospital has top–tier specialists–why don’t you get checked?”
She handed me a business card.
