I am the fifth child in my family, with four older sisters and one younger brother.
With six children, in the rural areas of that era, just having enough to eat was a big deal. And I am the one who has the least worries - I have been frail and sickly since I was a child, and I get upset when my stomach hurts. I go to the provincial capital once a month, take the train, climb the mountain road, and spend 80% of my family's income.
When I was nine years old, my mother made a decision. She betrothed me to a family in the next village as her goddaughter. She said superstitiously that this was called "death-crushing". My godfather and godmother have two sons, and their lives are better than ours. During holidays, they would buy me some new clothes. Those are my brand new clothes with tags. In my own house, I could only wear what was left by my sisters.
I thought I had one more set of parents and one more person to rely on.
During the summer of fourth grade, two older brothers drowned while herding cattle. Out of guilt, my father said, "Let my daughter take care of you from now on." This sentence has become a shackles on me for twenty years.
Eighteen years. During the holidays, he is never absent. They never asked about my studies, my body, my future. Never contributed a penny or any effort. And my mother, in order to treat my illness, sold the last hen in the family that laid eggs.
This is not a revenge story. This is a memoir about debt, moral kidnapping and self-reconciliation. When my heart finally became cold, I chose to speak out.
Because some kindness is never kindness. You are not a white-eyed wolf, but you are too tired.
