Chapter 3
Rachel waited for a few days but found that no one came looking for her.
Getting angrier the more she thought about it, she stormed over to my house with a group of people.
But only my mother, now half-paralyzed, was at home.
Apart from an old wooden bed and some simple odds and ends, there was nothing else in this small room, let alone a place to hide someone.
“What’s the point of having a son like this? It’s no different from not having one at all. Your mom is half-paralyzed in bed, your dad has become a cripple, and he still doesn’t come back.”
Rachel looks at the run-down room with disgust, pinching her nose against the odor, and launches into a barrage of mockery.
“We treated you like our own daughter since you were little. When Jack wasn’t around, you were the one who kept us company. How did you become like this?” my mother, with half of her body immobile, struggles to sit up on the bed, trying to grab Rachel’s clothes, her voice choked with emotion as she asks why.
Rachel rudely slaps away her hand.
“Don’t touch me with your dirty hands. I should thank your son for what I’ve become!”
“If he hadn’t sold me out, I wouldn’t be as rich as I am today. Being rich really does feel good. No wonder you liked to throw money around to hurt people.”
“If you have any way to contact your son, go ahead and do it. Doesn’t he hate criminals the most? I’ll face him head-on!”
My mother hesitates for a moment but remains silent.
Rachel, however, takes this as her having nothing to say and becomes even angrier. “Trash the place!” she orders.
The people she brought with her start smashing the few remaining broken bowls, chopsticks, tables, and chairs in the house.
My mother, wrapped in tattered quilts, tries desperately to stop them but can’t move far.
Seeing this miserable scene, I feel a lump in my throat. It’s my fault.
Years ago, Rachel was brainwashed by a scam organization, firmly believing she could make big money. She even invited us to join.
My father threw $10,000 at her, telling her never to come to our house again.
My mother remained silent.
In the end, persuaded by Rachel, I joined the organization.
She trusted me completely and told me everything.
So when I personally led the team to arrest her, she couldn’t believe it.
The last glance I saw as she left was filled with venomous hatred.
I knew she would come back, but I didn’t expect her hatred to be so intense.
Ten years hadn’t made her forget; instead, she remembered even more deeply.
Rachel, seeing the already shabby room become even more wrecked, felt some of her anger dissipate.
“Tell your son to come back quickly. Otherwise, your whole family won’t have peace. Let’s go,” she says.
My mother presses her lips tightly, glaring hatefully as Rachel leaves.
Rachel casually kicks away some debris blocking her path and struts out in her high heels.
I kneel beside my mother, wanting to hug her, begging her not to be so stubborn anymore. But she can’t hear me. She takes out a yellowed photograph from under her pillow and mumbles, “Jack, she wants to know, but we won’t tell her. That’s what she gets for becoming so evil.”
Tears blur my vision. I’m not a good son. I don’t deserve this. I thought they had long forgotten about me.