"Life is hard?" I hissed, my voice shaking with anger. "You chose this life. Why do I have to pay for your mess? First, it was the loan shark, now you want me to sleep with someone to pay off your thirty-thousand-dollar debt?" I yelled, unable to control the fury building up inside me.
"It's just sex. It's not like he's making you do any hard job." My mother's tone was chillingly casual as if she were talking about an errand, not about selling her own child.
Her words hung in the air, raw and sharp, before my grandmother's hand sliced through it. The slap rang out like a gunshot, silencing everything in the small room. My mother staggered back, her hand pressed to her cheek, but her eyes didn't flinch. She stared at my grandmother with that same mocking smile, that careless look that made me hate her even more.
"How dare you treat him like that?" My grandmother's voice was a low, furious hiss. "You know what? I'm done with you and your reckless behaviour. I don't want to see you in this house by the time I get back from the market."
"This mud shack? You call it a house?" My mother's laugh was hollow, echoing in the small space that felt so much smaller now. She looked around with disdain, and I felt the disgust crawling under my skin. I wanted to scream, but all I managed was a hoarse whisper that felt like poison on my tongue.
"I hate you," I spat, each word drenched in the bitterness that had built up over the years.
She only smiled a cold, cruel smile that barely reached her eyes. "The feeling is mutual."
A loud, impatient voice boomed from the doorway, interrupting the tense silence. "What's keeping you so long?" It was a thick, guttural voice I didn't recognize, one that sent chills down my spine.
My mother shrugged, barely acknowledging him. "I'll be out in a minute." She disappeared into her room, then re-emerged with a small bag, slinging it over her shoulder without so much as a backward glance. She walked past me, past my grandmother, out the door, and just like that, she was gone.
I stumbled to the ground, the weight of everything crushing me all at once. Sobs ripped from my throat, raw and uncontrollable, and I wished, more than anything, that I could disappear, that something would just swallow me up and take me far away from this life.
My grandmother knelt beside me, her arms wrapping around me, her tears mingling with mine. "I'm sorry," she whispered over and over, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault, Grandma." My voice was a mere whisper, choked and hoarse. I wanted to comfort her, but I could barely keep myself together.
"If I hadn't told her..." she began, her words thick with regret. "If I hadn't told her your father was cheating, she would've stayed with him, and you wouldn't have had to go through any of this."
Her voice cracked as she cried, and I felt a pang of her pain. I knew she carried the weight of my mother's choices like her own burden. She had tried to protect me, but the world we lived in didn't offer much in the way of protection.
"We can't change the past, Grandma," I whispered, wiping her tears even as my own continued to fall. But inside, I knew the past was what had shaped me, and forged me into someone scarred and scared. And it terrified me to think about what it would make of me in the future.
My mother's abandonment left a gaping void, a scar that would never fully heal. And though my grandmother's arms tried to shield me, I understood, in that moment, that I was standing at the edge of a dark abyss. It would take every ounce of strength to pull myself up, to survive the mess she'd left behind.
I clung to my grandmother, her warmth grounding me in the icy reality of our world. We sat there together, her fingers stroking my hair, both of us drowning in our sorrows. And as I held onto her, I made a silent vow. One day, I would free myself from the shadows my mother cast over my life. I would rise above the brokenness she had left behind. And when that day came, I would make sure I never fell victim to her kind of love again.
"Stay home today; I'll go to your workplace and tell your boss you're under the weather," my grandmother insists, her tone gentle but firm.
"I'm okay, Grandmother." I force a smile, hoping to convince her.
"Just take the day off." Her voice is resolute, leaving no room for argument.
I smile back rise from the floor and sit on the small chair we use as a dining table. "I'll warm the porridge again," she says, taking it back to the kitchen. Seizing the opportunity, I head to my room, open my old wardrobe, and start pulling out my clothes. I separate those that no longer fit from the few that still do. Surprisingly, the smaller ones look better than the clothes I wear now. I pack them into a bag and set it aside.
"Breakfast is ready!" I hear my grandma call from the living room.
I join her, and we eat in comfortable silence. Once we finish, she gathers her things, preparing to go to the market. "I'll come to help when I finish washing my clothes," I offer.
"Stay and rest at home," she warns gently.
"Alright. Have a nice day." I hug her, then turn to the kitchen to wash the dishes. Our kitchen is a relic of times past—missing cabinet doors, faded pots, and worn plates. Once I've cleaned up, I sweep both the kitchen and sitting room, then go outside to soak my clothes.
Returning to my room, I arrange my small student bed, aligning each corner carefully. After tidying up my grandmother's room, I head outside to wash up. I find some loose buttons on my shirts, so I sew on a few replacements from my grandmother's old tin, their faded colors a quiet comfort.
After finishing the chores, I take a shower and collapse into bed, letting sleep take me.
I woke up at 4 p.m., groggy from an afternoon nap, something I hadn't done in years. I stepped outside to gather my clothes drying on the line, folding each one carefully before stacking them in my wardrobe. Next, I fetched water from the well out front. Our electricity and water had been cut off over four years ago because we couldn't afford the bills. My mother, ever resourceful, somehow managed to scrape together what we needed, either by borrowing or even taking a bit here and there where she could. Luckily, we weren't the only ones without utilities; everyone on our street used the communal well.
I took my old clothes. I'd see if I could sell or exchange them at the market for something my size.
The local market busy as ever. I found my grandmother tending to her stall, expertly arranging vegetables for the few customers milling about.
"Grandma, let me help you," I said, moving toward her.
She shot me a look. "I told you to stay at home."
I shrugged and smiled. "I've been resting all day and I missed you."
She softened, giving me a quick smile. "All right, then."
Together, we attended to a few customers, exchanging brief pleasantries as I handed over vegetables and took money in return. At one point, she glanced at the bag slung over my shoulder.
"What's in there?" she asked, nodding toward it.
"My old clothes," I replied, pulling it open for her to see. "I was thinking of selling them, or maybe trading if anyone's willing."
She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Go sell them across the long road. People pay better there."
I checked the market clock: 5:45 p.m. "I'll be back before seven, I promise," I assured her before heading off.
Crossing the long road brought back memories of the previous night, but I pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the bustling sounds of the thrift market just ahead. This side of town was different and livelier, and the stalls seemed more vibrant.
I approached a man selling second-hand clothes and asked, "Would you buy these or maybe exchange them for something in my size?"
He barely looked up, hissing in disinterest. Undeterred, I tried three more stalls before a woman finally gave me a reluctant nod.
"These are clean, but old-fashioned," she remarked, examining the pile with a slight frown. "I can give you two pairs of trousers and a shirt for the whole bag."
Surprised, I protested, "There's more than eight items in there."
"Old-fashioned doesn't sell," she replied bluntly, her expression daring me to challenge her offer.
I sighed. It was better than nothing. "Fine."
She took the clothes and handed me two trousers and a shirt, and I moved on, buying a pair of shoes with the money Grandma had given me last night.
I walked quickly, clutching my bag containing my new clothes and shoes close to my chest. The sun was dipping lower, casting a warm, orange glow over the bustling market. People around me called out, haggling for prices and bargaining for everything from fresh vegetables to hand-me-downs. I couldn't stop thinking about how much I missed these lively scenes during the day when I was usually working.
With a quick glance at the market clock, I noted that it was just after six. I still had time to get back before seven, but I didn't want to risk making grandma wait. She always worried if I was even a few minutes late, and I knew better than to test her patience.
The bustling noise of the market faded into a dull hum as I caught sight of Yu Bin, his familiar face tinged with a smile as he took a bite from something he'd bought at a nearby food stall. He looked just as he had before —unbothered, ordinary. But when his gaze met mine, everything came rushing back.
A jolt of fear shot through me. I didn't realize I had dropped my bag until I felt the absence of its weight against my side. I turned and sprinted in the opposite direction, pushing past startled vendors and weaving through the crowd. Behind me, I heard Yu Bin shout, "Zhan! Wait!"
The way he called my name made something twist in my chest, a ghost of the past I wanted so badly to leave behind. I forced my legs to move faster, my heart hammering against my ribs as if it wanted to break free and escape too. Fear is a powerful motivator, and today, it was fuelling my every step.
I spotted a tall gate up ahead, its metal bars cold and imposing, but without a second thought, I scrambled up, my hands gripping tightly as I swung myself over and landed roughly on the other side. My pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out the world, but Yu Bin's voice broke through.
"Zhan," he called, his breathing laboured as he reached the other side of the gate. "Please, just... just listen."
"Go away," I replied, fighting to keep my voice steady, the tremor betraying my fear. "I don't want to talk to you."
He stood there, his expression softened, remorseful, and he raised his hands in a small gesture of surrender. "I'm not here to hurt you," he said between breaths. "I only wanted to talk."
"Do I look like I want to talk?" I shot back, anger now mixing with my fear. I couldn't trust him, not after what had happened. He should have been the first to understand why I needed to get away.
Yu Bin's gaze dropped for a moment, his face shadowed. "Before I left," he said slowly, "I went to your house. I wanted to...to apologize for not being able to... to stop what happened. But your grandmother told me you'd already left town."
"Apologies don't mean anything," I whispered, though part of me felt a small sting at his words. He tried helping multiple times but his sister is the definition of pure evil.
He nodded, looking down at his hands. "I know. But I still wanted to say it. "You look... different," he murmured, his gaze flicking to my worn-out shoes and clothes.
"Life happens," I shrugged, trying to sound casual.
He nodded, his face softening as he glanced at my face. "Still working and helping your grandma at the stall?"
"Yeah," I replied, a small smile tugging at my lips.
"That sounds... tough." he sigh
"Tough is normal now," I said, a hint of pride in my voice.
Yu Bin looked at me with a mixture of admiration and something else, something I couldn't quite name. Maybe it was pity, or maybe it was just the weight of everything unspoken between us. He glanced down, then up again. How do you cope? He asks his voice soft.
I shrugged. "We make do. We all do what we can."
He hesitated, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded wad of cash. "Here," he said, pointing it to me. "It's not much, but maybe it'll help with... something."
"No, thanks," I say, my voice cold.
"Please, Zhan, I'm just trying to help," Yu Bin insists, stepping closer to the gate.
I take a step back. "I don't need your money," I say, my tone sharp.
"I just want to help," he replies, his voice sincere. But I know better. Accepting anything from him would be a mistake.
"I don't need your help," I hiss, eyes narrowing.
You dropped this." He held up my bag, the one I'd thrown aside when I first saw him. "I thought you might want it back," he said putting the cash back in his jacket.
My hands trembled as I held myself together, gripping the gate's iron bars as though they were my only anchor. "Put it down and leave," I managed, my voice raw.
With a quiet nod, Yu Bin placed the bag carefully on the ground. "I came back last week," he said, voice softer now. "My sister... she's not around. But I'll let you know when she's coming."
"Thank you," I whispered, feeling my chest tighten.
"Anyway, you should head back before your grandma gets worried. You know how she is," he said, a hint of laughter in his voice.
"Yeah," I laughed softly, feeling the tension ease.
He smiled, a brief, almost shy expression. "I should go. But it was good to see you." He lingered for a moment, then turned and walked away, leaving me alone with the pounding of my heart.
I sank to the ground, a wave of relief crashing over me, but it couldn't wash away the fear. Alone, I cried, the memories closing in like shadows I couldn't escape.