A moment ago—

The pill had already softened. It was only a matter of time before Bian spat it out again.

Yet my husband, consumed by his own stubbornness, ignored every plea she made.

She had barely eaten all day. The fever had drained her strength, and the bitterness of the pill only worsened her nausea.

If only I had syrup, 

I thought desperately. 

If only—

She retched.

This time, it was too much.

The moment she vomited, I moved toward her instinctively, reaching out to comfort her—but then I saw it.

The look in his eyes stopped me mid-step. It made my stomach drop.

There was no hesitation in him — no pause to assess her condition, no flicker of doubt.

His gaze had gone still.

Too still.

As if a line had been crossed — not by him, but by her.

Bian was still coughing, shaking, and sick.

And yet his expression hardened, sharpening into something terrifyingly out of place.

And in that moment, I realise:

It's too late.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he struck her.

The sound was sickening.

Her small body toppled from the bed and hit the floor.

“HAVE YOU GONE MAD?!” I screamed.

I grabbed his arm, panic tearing through me.

“Let go of me,” he snarled.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing — how easily he placed his anger above our child’s pain, how little it seemed to matter to him.

“She has a fever!” I shouted. “Have you forgotten?!”

“Let go,” he snapped. “She needs to learn through beating.”

The certainty in his voice froze me.

My heart slammed desperately in my chest.

“Are you blind?!” I screamed again. “She’s just a child!”

I threw myself against him, gripping him with everything I had.

Bian looked at me.

Her eyes were wide with terror, her lips trembling, her whole body frozen in place.

Seeing her like that fear stabbed through me.

“Run,” I whispered.

I shouldn’t have said it.

The moment my arms loosened, even slightly, he wrenched himself free.

He charged at her.

**********

I don’t understand.

Something isn’t right.

My eyes burn, my chest tightens, tears keep coming, blurring everything until the room twists into something unfamiliar.

Did Dad… hit me?

The thought freezes me.

No—

That’s not possible.

I must have fallen.

I had to have fallen.

My head pounds, loud and sharp, like something is knocking from the inside, making it impossible to think.

Everything is too loud — Mom’s voice, movement.

Then, suddenly, it’s too quiet.

Through the blur of tears, I see Mom.

She’s holding onto Dad, tugging at him desperately, her whole body leaning back as if she’s using all her strength just to keep him away from me.

Her face is pale. She looks scared.

Her mouth is moving, but I can’t hear the words.

My thoughts scatter, refusing to line up.

My stomach tightens.

I feel sick.

Bleargh…

Even after I spit everything out, the nausea doesn’t leave.

I tried to sit up, but the room was spinning around and it made me dizzy.

Before I could gather my strength, another pain forced me back down.

Bleargh…

My insides felt like a storm that was about to burst, but there’s nothing left.

I'm scared.

Everything hurts.

Yet, the chaos around me makes everything worse.

***********

“Stop it. Can’t you see her condition has worsened?”

“This is how she learns.”

The words don’t register anymore.

I was waiting for something — hesitation, doubt, regret.

But, nothing comes.

I don’t recognize him anymore.

It’s as if her pain never reaches him.

"Bian!” I scream. 

“Get up! Go to my room — please!”

Bleargh…

She collapses again, her body trembling, eyes unfocused.

And it breaks something inside me.

I step in front of her without thinking.

Pain lands again and again, but all I can see is her small frame shaking behind me.

The sight of her agony pierces my heart. The scars of this moment will linger for a long time.

I prayed continuously that she wouldn't have to suffer like this.

Why can’t he see her?

Why can’t he stop?

“She’s a child!” I scream. “She’s just a child!”

My strength drains away, and he drags me aside with frightening ease.

Then he hits her again.

“Bian, get up! Bi…Bian! BIAAAAN!"

She doesn’t respond.

My heart drops into a hollow, bottomless place.

My thoughts fracture into disbelief as I shove him with everything I have and rush beside her.

***********

The world spins around me.

Everything drifts in and out of focus. My ears ring with nothingness, other than a hollow sound that presses into my head until it hurts. 

Suddenly a hand touched me. My body flinches in fear.

Please don’t—

Don’t hit me again.

Yet, I brace myself for another strike.

But instead, a familiar warmth against my cheek. Fingers trembling as they embrace me.

Mom.

Relief crashes into me, sudden and overwhelming.

But it doesn’t last. Something yanks me away.

There’s no ground beneath me. Only a terrifying emptiness — and then my body slams into the floor.

"AAAAAHHH!"

I screamed as pain spread deeply through me.

Did Dad… throw me?

No…it can't be.

He wouldn’t.

Suddenly my throat tightens. I try to breathe — but nothing comes.

I struggled for air. Overwhelming fear clenched me so tightly that I called Mom.

Mom… Help me… Mom.

However, no sound came out. My body screams to run, even though I can’t move.

Something forces my mouth open. Then a finger pushes deep into my throat.

It hurts. It hurts so much.

The pressure disappears only when I swallow something just to breathe.

Cough…

I cough desperately, gasping as air finally tears its way back into my lungs, each breath sharp and painful.

Someone wraps their arms around me, holding me tight.

A few moments later, they gave me water. As I try to drink, the water causes me to choke, reminding me of what happened a little while ago.

But the hands gently pat my back.

They waited before giving me water again. This time, I managed to swallow. 

Gradually, my vision returns, and I see Mom is holding me.

Her face is filled with horror, as she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.

Her tears fall onto my face as she kisses my forehead, my cheeks, over and over.

I don’t hear what she’s saying. Yet, her actions speak volumes.

Sniff… Sob

I break down completely, seeing her like that, and start sobbing into her arms.

I have thousands of questions for her. Yet—

Mom… why does Dad do this?

It's painful. It hurt so much Mom….

**********

I keep wishing these memories would stop visiting me in my dreams.

Yet, it returns. Those moments refuse to fade no matter how much time passes.

Whenever Dad speaks to me in that same tone, the past rushes back all at once. No matter how many times I relive it, the pain never dulls. 

It never left.

There are so many questions that remain unanswered. But there is no one left to ask.

I was hospitalized for days because of the fever. Even the doctors were confused when it wouldn’t go down. 

Still, no one spoke about what had happened. The silence around it felt heavier than any explanation.

After that, Mom began to change — more careful around me. 

Dad eventually came with apologies and an embrace.

A fragile attempt to pretend things could be whole again.

But then he said that if I had listened to him, it would never have happened.

Those words settled deep inside me, leaving me trapped in helplessness and grief.

Even now, I want to tell him.

That I was just a child back then.