“Mom, it’s time! Let’s hurry to the flower shop to buy Uncle Elroy’s favorite roses and then go pick him up from work together.”
At the mention of Elroy, both mother and daughter showed blissful expressions and walked away hand in hand.
Meanwhile, I stood frozen in place, my whole body trembling uncontrollably.
Five years ago, after my daughter was diagnosed with uremia, I rushed to the hospital for a compatibility test. Luckily, it was a match.
On the day of the surgery, just as I opened my eyes, I received a video of Sharon being kidnapped.
To save her, I forced myself to inject ten vials of painkillers, then stumbled my way to the location.
But the kidnappers refused to release her no matter what—unless I agreed to film obscene videos.
Looking at Sharon barely hanging onto life beside me, I had no choice but to nod in agreement.
In an instant, dozens of women rushed at me and dragged me into the warehouse.
For three whole days and nights, I was tortured until my surgical wounds split open and I lost my sanity.
Sharon knelt outside the whole time, banging her head on the ground until it was covered in blood.