Then, as if to complete his task, he dragged me out of the store and delivered one final kick. “Get out of here! And stay far away!”
My face was swollen, and as I stumbled down the street, people stared and pointed at me.
Some even raised their phones, shoving them in my face to record my humiliation.
Covering my face, I ran out of the building.
It was raining outside. Cold droplets struck my battered face, making the pain even worse.
Splash!
A luxury car sped past, drenching me in muddy water.
I didn’t move in time and fell to the side of the road.
As I lay there, I recognized the car—it belonged to my parents.
They drove off, heading back to their opulent mansion, glowing in the distance.
While I was like a drenched stray dog, trudging back to the slums—a filthy, broken-down rental in the poorest part of the city.
That was the cheapest place I could find to live.
At first, I had been so desperate to save money for their ransom that I slept under a bridge. But one night, a homeless man stole all my money. Terrified that the kidnappers would hurt my parents if I couldn’t send the funds, I reluctantly rented a room.
Looking back now, I realized how laughable I was.