12
It was the first time I had ever seen Ryan act so cruelly toward a woman.
His bodyguards had tied Claire upside down over the swimming pool at his family’s estate.
Each time the rope dropped, her head would go under, and just as she was on the verge of drowning, they would pull her back up, over and over again.
I was shocked when my parents showed up.
It had been so many years since I’d seen them together.
Claire, soaked and gasping for air, was thrown to the side of the pool.
She was on the brink of passing out from the pain.
My mom stormed over and slapped her hard across the face.
“You filthy, rotten woman! I never should have given birth to you! Why didn’t you just die?”
12:32 PM d
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Blood dripped from Claire’s lip as she lay there, too weak to move. After a long moment, she lifted her head and spat out bitter words.
“Mom, if I had a choice, I wouldn’t have wanted to be born to you either! You disgust me!”
“Don’t you dare call me ‘Mom‘! I’m not your mother!”
My mom continued slapping her over and over, as if she wouldn’t stop until Claire was dead.
Claire, unable to fight back physically, resorted to stabbing my mom with her words:
My father, in contrast, remained calm.
He sneered at Ryan and said, “Ryan, you know that what you’re doing is illegal.
Torturing women? Nice job. Your family’s ‘fine upbringing‘ really shines through.”
Though my father was in his fifties, he was well–preserved, looking only a few years older than Ryan.
His demeanor was composed, too refined to get visibly angry.
But the sharpness of his words made it clear he was furious.
Ryan’s face remained cold and emotionless. He offered no defense, no explanation.
And for the first time, I realized that my parents truly mourned my death.
Seeing my mom weep as she leaned against my father’s shoulder brought a strange mix of emotions.
It was the scene I had always wanted to see when I was alive.
But I had to die to see it.
