“When I was diagnosed with cancer and facing death, how did she treat me?”
“When I was undergoing chemotherapy day and night and my hair fell out, where was she?”
“When I cried every night in agony, unable to understand why she left me, did she feel even a shred of guilt?”
Seeing the hysterical man in front of him, the detective was stunned.
Carl twitched his nostrils, as if trying to suppress his own shameful side.
“Sorry… I didn’t know…” Looking apologetic, the detective patted his shoulder, urging him to let it go.
What neither of them knew was that I was standing beside them, as light as air. I kept waving my hands, trying to get them to notice me. “It's not like that! It's nothing like that!”
I screamed at the top of my lungs, trying to make them hear me.
"Carl, when you were undergoing cancer treatment, I was locked in a small dark room and tortured.”
“When your hair fell out, mine was also pulled out by the roots, making me wish I were dead.”
“When you couldn’t understand why I disappeared, I desperately hoped you would come to save me.”
And yet …