Chapter 3

Mia pursed her lips.

“He’s just holding you down. I didn’t see him hit anyone.”

The two women from the front rows couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Her face is bleeding! How can you lie with a straight face?!”

“Let her go!”

Mia’s expression finally changed.

“Maybe I wasn’t paying attention… I’ll go call the police.”

She then slowly pushed her service cart and walked away.

I seized the opportunity to push the punk away and sprinted forward. From the bathroom at the end of the car, Leo’s piercing cry rang out:

“Mommy, help me—”

I rushed to the door and pounded on it.

“Come for me! Open the door, let my son out!”

Inside, the young woman’s curses could be heard:

“Don’t you dare cry! Cry again and I’ll beat you to death!”

The train bathroom’s metal door was very sturdy, unmoving.

I pleaded with the surrounding passengers to call the police, but the punk followed me, glaring menacingly.

“I’d like to see who dares interfere! My girlfriend is just helping him teach his son a lesson. If a brat is so noisy, the police will side with us!”

Some passengers in the front car, not knowing the full truth, even agreed, saying they hated unruly children and a little scare was good.

“My son is not a bad kid!”

I cried out, pounding on the door.

At that moment, Mrs. Stone and Mrs. Clark squeezed over.

“Miss, is this child in the video your son?”

I looked down and gasped. In the video, Leo was cowering in the corner, a hand with long, manicured nails grabbing his chin, forcing him to face the camera:

“Say it! Your dad’s an Monster, and your mom’s a slut!”

Leo’s face was red with finger marks, and he cried out:

“My daddy is a hero!”

“Ptooey!”

A mouthful of spit landed on his face. The woman tightened her grip.

“You lying brat!”

Only then did I realize it was a live stream. The top of the screen read:

“Train passenger losing it over noisy kid, live-streaming to teach him a lesson!”

The comment section was filled with cheers, and some doubts, the chat a chaotic mess.

The woman excitedly grabbed my son’s face and slammed his head back.

“You little punk, speak up!”

Thump! Leo’s face turned pale.

My heart ached with intense pain. I cried out, pounding on the door:

“Stop it!”

“Quick, say your parents are trash!”

The woman pressed his cheek against the wall. Leo’s face was ashen, but he stubbornly shouted:

“Mommy said my daddy is a big hero! And I wasn’t noisy!”

His tears poured down, which only enraged the woman further.

She sneered, turning the camera to the trash can next to the squat toilet.

“Not going to say it, huh? Lying brats get their mouths wiped with toilet paper!”

With that, she picked out a piece of used toilet paper with brownish-yellow stains. Through the screen, I could almost smell the stench.

I screamed in agony:

“You can’t do this! Open the door!”

Leo also cried in terror.

“Don’t wipe my mouth with poop! It’s disgusting!”

He had always been a clean child. Now, his face was pressed against a public toilet wall, a dirty piece of paper shoved in front of him. He cried out in fear, eyes shut:

“Mommy, please help me—”

The woman grew even more excited.

“Oh, you think it’s dirty, do you? Then hurry up and say your parents are both trash and scum, and you won’t have to use this paper, how about that?”