Chapter 5
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Chapter 5
After the hospital examination, I was diagnosed with a mild concussion. If I didn’t agree to a settlement, Joey would have to spend at least a few days in the detention center.
Jarvis wore a knowing smile, as if he could see right through the charade.
Joey finally began to panic, nervously tugging at Jarvis’s shirt.
“Jar, I don’t want to stay here overnight. I’m scared.”
Jarvis gently reassured her that everything would be fine as long as he was there.
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When money talked, I acted reasonable and didn’t hold out against them anymore.
Once outside the police station, Jarvis pulled me into a dark corner.
“For the sake of money, you’re willing to throw your dignity away.”
I grabbed his tie and yanked it hard, forcing him to lower his head to meet my gaze.
“You should have considered the consequences of climbing over me to support the newcomer.”
Instead of getting angry, Jarvis smiled and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer.
“Tone down your temper, no man can handle
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you now.”
I pushed him away in disgust and walked toward the parking lot.
Jarvis followed closely behind, casually saying,
“You know how my mom has been these past two years. Joey is just what she needs.”
I ignored him and opened the driver’s side door, only for Jarvis to raise a hand to stop me.
“Riley, I can give you everything but marriage.”
“Get lost!”
I slammed the car door shut and drove away.
In the rearview mirror, he stood with his
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hands in his pockets, backlit by the light, his expression unreadable.
The streetlights cast a long shadow of his solitary figure.
In the hospital restroom, I gagged and paced around. I felt nauseous from the thought of Jarvis and Joey, but I was suffering too. When I got home, I collapsed into bed and fell into a deep sleep.
The next day, I woke up to my mom’s call.
“Rye, you haven’t come home for dinner in a long time.”
I glanced at the calendar and agreed to come
over.
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When I opened the door, I was greeted by a stranger.
“Rye, this is Mr. Hewitt,” my mom introduced him.
I sighed; he was my mom’s new boyfriend. Unlike the previous ones, this Mr. Hewitt seemed more down–to–earth.
At the dinner table, my mom kept piling food onto my plate.
“Rye, Mr. Hewitt has a son who just graduated. Why don’t you let him intern at your company?”
Even though I was somewhat prepared for it, a flicker of disappointment crossed my mind.
“I’ve already resigned.”
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“Why on earth would you do that? Did you upset Jar?”
My mom looked surprised as she set down her chopsticks. After a moment, she offered a suggestion:
“Why not buy some fruit later and apologize? Jar isn’t someone who holds grudges.”
Bang!
I slammed my plate onto the ground, the sharp sound echoing around the room. My mother began to sob, leaning against Mr. Hewitt’s shoulder as she poured out her heart: “This child has always been stubborn. The slightest frustration sends her into a rage, throwing
things around. If it weren’t for her father’s cruel
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abandonment, would I have to bear the scorn of others alone, raising a child by myself? Is it easy for me?”
Mr. Hewitt held her tenderly, comforting her with promises that she wouldn’t have to face these struggles alone anymore. “You’re right. The whole world is to blame; you’re the most wronged of all.” I let out a cold laugh, dismissing the display of tenderness behind me as I turned to leave.
From my earliest memories, loneliness and bullying stitched together the fabric of my childhood. I was merely a pawn in my mother’s attempts to bind my biological father to her.
Time and again, her desperate clinging provoked the ire of his legitimate wife. So, we drifted from city to city, unwanted, with
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everyone seeking to exploit us.
Like a wild dog, I chased away those who tried to take advantage, fiercely defending my rights. Yet to them, I was just a calculating, fatherless child.
“We can’t manage without a man around here; otherwise, we’ll be vulnerable as a single mother and child.”
My mother, weak in character, pinned her hopes on men, continually searching for new ones, while each uncle approached us with their own agenda. That year, I was twelve. I came home to find a drunken man pinning my mother to the ground, beating her.
The crumpled figure on the floor was my only family in this world. With all my strength, I
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fought against the adult man. The deranged man drew a knife.
To my surprise, I felt a sense of relief, thinking that everything might finally come to an end.
But my mother threw herself in front of me, resolutely shielding me, her white clothes slowly soaking in blood. I thought, in this life, it seemed we were destined to torment each other.
Chapter 6
