Chapter 3

Just as I was packing my bags to leave town, my mom showed up at my rental apartment.

Her face was covered in bruises, her left eye swollen shut.

It was late at night, and she was wearing sunglasses to hide the damage.

In my last life, it was at this very moment that I told my mom I had tens of thousands of dollars saved and urged her to divorce my dad and come with me.

She went straight home and told my dad.

"Mom, what are you doing here?"

My mom didn't say a word. She walked in, sat on the couch, and started to cry.

"Aubrey, I can't live like this anymore! Look at what your dad did to me! Please, you have to save me!"

I feigned helplessness. "Mom, what do you want to do? You can't be serious about divorce, can you?"

"Divorce? Yes! I want a divorce! I can't take this life anymore!"

Divorce?

My mom said this to me every time she got beaten. That's why, in my last life, I suggested she just divorce him.

But I never expected her to go home and tell my dad exactly that.

After my dad got drunk, he hit me while cursing, "You worthless little brat! You dare try to break up your mom and me?"

"If I don't beat you today, you'll forget your place!"

"If it weren't for me, do you think you'd even be alive in this world?"

I was already losing consciousness from the beating, but my mind replayed the years of my life.

If I'd had a choice, I wouldn't have been born into this family.

From as far back as I could remember, I'd lived under the shadow of domestic violence.

My dad's moods were unpredictable. When he was happy, he'd lift me high and play, but he never knew I had a fear of heights.

When he lost money gambling, he'd come home, smashing things and hitting. My mom would push me out to bear his rage.

I knew from a young age that I was a girl, and no one in my family really wanted me.

If my mom could have had more kids, I'm sure I'd have younger brothers or sisters. But sadly, after my dad threw her into a freezing cold bath, she couldn't have children anymore.

Memories flashed before my eyes like a highlight reel. I looked at my mom, cowering in the corner, trembling. I let out a bitter laugh.

Before, whenever she got hit, I was the one who stepped forward to protect her.

Now, she just cowered, afraid to move.

All her talk about loving me, about me being her only daughter, it was just comfort she sought after my dad hurt her.

So now, I would never feel soft-hearted toward my mom again.

I watched my emotional mom on the couch, calmly picking up my phone.

"Dad, you heard that, right? Mom did come looking for me."

"But did you two have a fight? Mom actually said she wants to divorce you."

My dad's voice, amplified by the phone, reached my mom's ears.

"Lock the door! I'm coming right over to break her legs!"

"She wants to divorce me? Over my dead body!"