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"The first time I remember was in the second grade of elementary school. I slept alone in a room without a door. He came out to use the toilet, and after he finished using the toilet, he came to my bed, lifted my quilt, and molested my body with his eyes for a long, long time, so long that my mom called him from the bedroom over there, 'Are you not done peeing yet?'" "My memory is very confused and fuzzy now. Those antidepressants and MECT will seriously affect my memory. I can only try to explain it to you based on the timeline. There may be some unclear parts, please understand." The underwear I wore in my childhood seemed to be always bought by him. My mom was obsessed with the struggle between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, and her mind was full of hatred and resentment. She had no time to take care of my trivial needs. I vaguely remember that he openly clamped me between his legs in front of my mom and rubbed my body wantonly, and my mom glared at me and scolded me, "Get out!" And when I was in Junior High School, he handed me a White Plastic Bag through the retractable door. The bag contained the underwear he carefully selected for me. I started wearing a bra when I was in Junior Two. Because I developed early and quickly, a small vest could no longer cover my rapidly bumping chest. My mom bought me a pure white bra. When I wore it and stood in front of my classmates, my chest stood out, which was very awkward. Especially when his eyes fell on that high bulge, I wanted to bend my waist and back to stuff those two pieces of flesh into it! In high school, he took me to the Clothing Store to buy a short sleeve for summer wear. I put on new clothes and his fingers moved all over my body. On the surface, he was picking fabrics, but in fact, he was circling around my chest. When he was about to touch my chest, I turned around. After buying clothes and walking on the street, he grabbed my hand rudely, like a lover, and rubbed his thumb on the back of my hand. I felt sick and wanted to vomit, but I was stiff and couldn't do anything. He loves to drink, and he loves to call my name when he is drunk. I hide in my room and dare not go forward. At this time, my mother will come over and scold me for being ignorant and unfilial. In short, she will use various means to push me in front of him and endure his disgusting love words. The most vivid memory I have, even electrotherapy can't erase the past, is that I went home on weekends and blocked the door with my elementary school desk before the lunch break. I just said that since I was a child, my door was not allowed to have a lock. I thought that I could take a nap peacefully with the desk against the door, so I took off my clothes and snored in the quilt until I felt a chill on my body. Hazy, I saw him holding my quilt high and carefully observing my body, and I was... naked at that time. People say that there is no empathy in this world, so I am not sure if you can understand how I have felt all these years. I am glad that I went to boarding school since I was young. I would rather not have the company of my parents than live in fear every day. I was afraid that my mother was not at home and I had to be alone with him. Even if he was in that room and I was in this room, I was worried that he would lose his mind and really attack me… It was like a sword, hanging over your head, and you didn’t know when it would fall and pierce your head and take your life. You trembled in fear and had nightmares for twenty years, and finally the day of leaving came - you were admitted to university, you could leave this home, but he wanted to follow you, follow you to Qingdao, and book a room in the hotel before going through the admission procedures. Only one room was booked, and the standard was In the same room, there were two beds. You and he were lying in the same darkness. It was so quiet that you could clearly hear his heavy breathing. He was not asleep. He had desires. You didn't know whether he was suppressing them or preparing to act. You grabbed the sheets in fear until dawn. He finally chose to give up. He sent you to school and helped you deal with various matters. At night, he went back to the hotel alone. You stood at the school gate and watched him leave. You found that his back had become hunched without you knowing when. You knew that he walked five miles back to his residence to save on taxi fare. You felt a waterfall of self-blame and guilt in your heart... The complicated emotions made you feel burned inside. You bent over, holding your chest uncomfortably. No one knew your past and no one was worried about you. "He died of brain cancer when I was a senior in college. He was in a lot of pain before he died. My mother and relatives took turns to take care of him. My mother called me and asked me to go back. I refused on the grounds that I was writing a graduation thesis. I didn't want to see him. I was hard-hearted. But no matter how many reasons I had, they couldn't beat the issue of life and death. I still went back. My mother forced me to apply for a subsidy from the school. I refused. He was half sitting on the hospital bed, his whole face was black. He stared at me fiercely and said, 'I really regret raising an ungrateful person like you, a waste, a bastard!' Ha, I was an ungrateful person, a waste, a bastard. I went back to school without any guilt until he was dying. My mother urged me again. I went home immediately, and I could still see him for the last time. Why did I want to see him for the last time? I deliberately bought a train ticket for a day later. After getting off the train, I deliberately didn't call home. I deliberately waited for the news of the death from home to come in, and then I told them slowly and breathlessly, "I'm here, the train is late, come and pick me up." At that time, I was eating warm pancakes bought on the roadside. You don't know that the tear I shed when I saw his body was the tear I had accumulated all the way to squeeze out. After that, during the funeral, I was crying, but I was not sad at all. I even wanted to laugh. I almost couldn't hold it back a few times. Ha, I am such a damn bastard! " "Hey, poor girl——" The patient in the next bed sighed. "Grandma, I'm not pitiful, I deserve it." I replied with a smile. He just sat there, holding the warm soy milk in his hand, leaning forward slightly, and wiping the tears from my face. "The soy milk is ready. It's not hot. Drink it quickly." On the seventh day, he left. I didn't see him off because I was in the sea. The seawater poured into my ear canal and the water surface squeezed my chest. I opened my eyes and looked at the world I was about to leave through the sparkling waves. I smiled slightly, and he suddenly disappeared like dust. He never existed. It was just that I spent the last National Day holiday in my life leisurely, and it was just an empty dream before I died. I don't know whether my experience will be known to others, and how it will be evaluated if it is known. I don't care, because when it is shown to everyone, I will have rushed to Shura Hell. The protagonist who ended this story has passed away. Her departure, as she said, did not cause any response in this empty world. She was born like a grain of sand, but hoped to become a pearl. If the readers, ladies and gentlemen, do not mind, I will take the initiative to post an article for her and name this hateful, infuriating and pathetic girl - Pearl Girl. The grain of sand that has been polished into pearls by clam meat must still have her brilliance. I hope you will forgive me.
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