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墨書 Inktalez
The musty smell of the attic clung to me like a damp, cold tongue, mercilessly licking at my throat, each breath feeling like an intimate encounter with death.
My nails dug deeply into the cracks of the pine floorboards, decaying wood shavings crawling like tiny insects into my nail bed, mingling with last winter's frozen urine stains, releasing a nauseating stench.
Rust from the ventilation duct fell onto my eyelashes, stinging my eyes, while my stepfather's phlegmy laughter echoed and festered in the pipes: "That Xia Jian girl... her legs are whiter than a freshly slaughtered lamb, they must feel so slippery..."
I folded myself tightly into the shadow behind the distribution box, trying to disappear from this filthy world.
My mother's crimson nail polish glinted under the moonlight, her lips painted a smoky purple as she blew out a perfect smoke ring, her voice dripping with indifference and calculation: "President Wang likes that Chick best; remember to let her bathe with lemon slices so she smells fresh."
As her high heels extinguished the cigarette butt, I heard a faint crack from my back molar, a mix of anger and despair.
The sharp edge of the distribution box pressed into my ribs, pain nearly choking me. Last winter, when I was stripped naked and locked in here, Bing Ling had similarly pierced my tailbone; that bone-chilling cold and pain still haunted me.
Suddenly, a deafening crash of breaking chains erupted above me, the attic skylight tearing open like a wound, allowing a sliver of weak light to seep through. My stepfather's silhouette blocked the last bit of moonlight, the eagle-headed emblem on his belt buckle glinting coldly like the scythe of death.
"Little Bitch, are you a rat? You hide pretty well!" As he lunged at me with his foul-smelling alcohol breath, the back of my head struck the concrete floor with a dull thud that startled an owl outside.
A sharp crack echoed from my pocket; it was the vial of ketamine I had stolen from the clinic, now seeping through the seams of my school uniform pocket into the floor cracks, much like my life slipping away bit by bit.
The sound of cotton nightgown tearing drowned out the spring thunder outside as his yellowed canine teeth gnawed at my collarbone, pain nearly driving me insane. I felt glass shards embedded in my palm; blood flowed down into his fleshy crevices and pooled into his crocodile belt as he howled like a slaughtered pig, shaking dust from the attic beams.
His backhand struck me with the sharp edge of his gold ring, leaving me ringing in my ears and dizzy.
"You're just as much of a whore as your mother!" He yanked my hair and slammed my head against the wall, the faded "Model Student" certificate soaking up my blood until it turned a deep purple. That had once been my only pride.
In the moment when the glass shard was about to slice through my throat, three bright beams of light pierced the darkness, like angels descending to earth. The rubber soles of the doctors' shoes crushed cockroach eggs scattered on the floor, and the electric shock device buzzed ominously like a snake ready to strike, sending chills down my spine.
My muscles danced an eerie jig under the electric current, my body convulsing uncontrollably. I watched as the rhinestones on Mother’s shoe tip sank into a pile of sleeping pills; she kicked away my twitching fingers as if they were a dead rat. "The forensic department's Liu charged double for expedited service; your time is up."
The scent of her Chanel No. 5 mixed with the stench of decay made me feel nauseous. She continued, "The seventh of next month is a good day for cremation; you can rest easy."
The propofol made my eyes bulge like balloons about to burst, and I felt like a bubble on the verge of popping. As the iron cage vehicle jolted over speed bumps, I counted the streetlights like I did when I was seven, counting the window bars at the orphanage, back when I still held hope for the future.
When the nurse tore open my patient gown, I glanced at his badge stamped with "Renai Hospital 037" and laughed out loud, a laugh filled with irony and despair.
"This crazy bastard is laughing!" When the needle pierced my elbow crease, I tasted the sweet metallic tang of glass shards on my tongue; it was my blood reminding me that I was still alive. As the chill of propofol froze my veins, memories began to boil.
On my twelfth birthday, Mother pressed a lit cigarette butt into a strawberry cream cake and shoved it into my mouth; the burn left blisters that took three days to scab over—an unforgettable nightmare.
As the last dose of Anxi was pushed in, chaotic footsteps echoed in the corridor outside the iron door; I knew it was the police arriving. At that moment, when the sirens pierced through the night sky, I swallowed blood mixed with glass shards while staring at the surveillance camera—that was my final act of defiance against this world.
The last image imprinted on my retina was of Mother’s high heel stuck in a storm drain grate; her panicked expression brought me a flicker of satisfaction. Finally, I could escape this world filled with violence and despair, allowing my soul to be freed.
(End of Chapter)
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