That autumn when I was eight, Dad brought me to live with him in the city for school. If I didn’t finish my homework, no dinner. If I scored below 95 on a test, I was made to stand until midnight. Ten minutes of extra sleep on a weekend? There went my entire allowance. “I’m breaking my back on construction sites to pay for your education. You have to be number one!” Dad’s coworkers all praised his strict parenting. Even though I often felt dizzy and lightheaded from hunger. Then came the parent-teacher conference. Other kids’ parents wore smart clothes. I hid in the bathroom stall, listening to the clomp of Dad’s worn-out work boots in the hallway. “Teacher, she only got second place this time. I haven’t let her eat lunch for three days!” A few soft chuckles drifted in from outside the window, from other parents. “Pushing a kid that hard? No wonder his wife left him for someone else.” I bit my lip until it was white, wondering numbly. If Mom had taken me with her back then, would my life have been easier?
Standing in the bathroom stall, I heard Dad’s voice echoing in the hallway. There was a chilling pride in it, as if he was showcasing his unique parenting philosophy. The sneering comment from the other parents outside the window felt like a sharp knife, slicing open the scars I desperately tried to hide. I bit my lip until it was white, tasting a hint of blood. After the conference, Dad led me home in silence. In that small rented room, the walls were yellowed, and the light bulb was dim. He took off his cement-stained jacket, his gaze fixed on my report card. He spoke, his voice low. “Why weren’t you first?” I whispered my reply, my hands trembling slightly beneath the table. “There was one math problem… I made a careless mistake.” At that, he slammed the table, and I jumped to my feet instantly, not daring to lift my head. “Careless? I’m on construction sites, working my fingers to the bone, layers of calluses on my hands. What’s it all for?!” “It’s so you can study hard and make something of yourself!” “And this is how you repay me? With carelessness?” My fingers dug hard into my palm, reopening old scabs until fresh blood welled. My stomach ached with hunger, but I was numb, used to this torture. I really wanted to tell Dad that I was only one point away from first place. Even the teacher praised me for being a motivated student. But why did I seem so worthless in Dad’s eyes? He couldn’t tolerate even the smallest mistake. As I thought this, bitter tears streamed down uncontrollably. I didn’t even dare to cry out loud, only managing muffled sobs. Seeing my tear-streaked face, Dad wasn’t sympathetic; he just got angrier. “Cry, cry, cry! Is crying going to solve anything?!” “Instead of crying here, why don’t you go review your lessons?!” “If you don’t review everything you’ve learned tonight, you won’t get any dinner!” I was going to go hungry again tonight. Even though I’d won a math competition award the day before, and Dad had promised to buy me meat. Now, that promise was off. Alone in the dim little room, I flipped through my books. The enticing aroma of meat seeped through the door crack, flooding my nostrils. My stomach growled painfully, a testament to my suffering. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead and dripped onto my textbook. I finally couldn’t bear it and started to sob silently again. I secretly took out the piggy bank Mom had given me before she left, hugging it and crying over and over. But as I hugged it, a small slip of paper fell out from the coin slot. It was a string of numbers. I stared at the paper, stunned for a long moment. Could this be Mom’s phone number?
“Lily, are you done with your review?” Dad pushed the door open abruptly. I swiftly hid my piggy bank. Luckily, the piggy bank wasn’t big, so I could tuck it into my oversized sleeve. Since Dad never bought me extra clothes, I usually just wore my school uniform or hand-me-downs from relatives. Most didn’t fit properly, hanging loose and baggy on my frame. At least the roomy sleeves were good for hiding things. When Dad opened the door, he was too engrossed in eating his meat to notice me hiding anything. The smell of meat filled my nostrils again, and my stomach groaned in protest. “Your teacher just called me. She said your essay got published in the school newspaper.” “Since we both have tomorrow off, as a reward, I’ll take you to the amusement park.” At the mention of “amusement park,” my eyes widened. I must be dreaming. I quickly pinched myself. It hurt, so much that tears welled in my eyes. I heard my own voice tremble. “Is… is that true?” Dad nodded, picking a piece of meat from between his teeth with his finger. “It’s true. But you still have to finish reviewing all your lessons today!” “A reward is a reward, and punishment is punishment. They don’t mix. Don’t think you can get away with anything!” Even if it meant no dinner tonight, I was ecstatic. Because Dad was finally going to take me out. The next day, standing at the amusement park, gazing at the carousel, I realized I wasn’t dreaming. I clutched the hem of my shirt, my eyes fixed on the carousel’s colorful, blinking lights. When the music started, to my surprise, Dad said, “Go on, ride it.” The horses began to spin, and the wind brushed against my face. The moment I sat on a horse, I couldn’t help but look back for Dad. He stood outside the railing, his worn-out work clothes starkly out of place among the brightly dressed parents. But his gaze was on me, and in his eyes, there was a softness I’d never seen before. When I got off the carousel, I saw cotton candy at a nearby stall. I looked at Dad with pleading eyes, but he refused. “What’s so good about cotton candy? And you’ve already ridden the carousel today.” “That’s enough. Let’s go home.” My head had been spinning a little after the carousel, and Dad had only given me a bowl of porridge. I was feeling a bit low on blood sugar, which was why I wanted cotton candy to steady myself. But Dad’s refusal made me feel even worse. “Dad, no, I’m just having a low blood sugar episode.” Dad suddenly yelled, “Stop using low blood sugar as an excuse! It’s not a real sickness, you’re just being dramatic!” “Let’s go home, now!” Dad’s shout attracted many glances. Someone saw my blood-drained face and kindly suggested, “Your child really looks like she has low blood sugar. You should get her something to eat.” Dad got even angrier. “As if I wouldn’t know if my own child was sick or not? Don’t you dare butt in!” Dad’s voice suddenly turned cold. “Stop your fake sympathy. Go home and do your practice sheets!” My heart plummeted. Turns out, that fleeting happiness was just a carefully orchestrated deception, designed to make me more compliant with my studies. That night, Dad lost his temper again while checking my homework. He slammed my notebook on the floor and roared, “You made a mistake on such a simple problem! The amusement park was a complete waste!” I kept my head down, my gaze falling on the piggy bank under my bed. The slip of paper with the phone number was clutched tightly in my hand. Later that night, Dad’s snoring drifted from the next room. I tiptoed out of bed, grabbing the piggy bank, and sneaked out of the house. At the payphone booth on the corner, I stood on my toes, dropping coins in one by one. The moment the call connected, I choked back tears, unable to speak. A strange yet familiar female voice came through the receiver. “Hello? Who is this?” As soon as I opened my mouth, tears streamed down my face. “Mom, it’s me, Lily.”
I heard a gasp on the other end, and Mom’s voice trembled. “Lily, my Lily, you finally reached out to me.” Hearing her voice again, I was already sobbing uncontrollably. But afraid of being discovered, I couldn’t make a sound, just cried silently. “Mom, can… can you come get me?” “I’ve had enough of living here.” “I miss you so much, Mom.” After suppressing it for so long, I finally spoke my heart. Dad’s suffocating love was truly choking me. Mom listened to my trembling, tearful voice, and her own tone became urgent. “Okay, where are you now? Mom will be right there…” Before Mom could finish, the call was deliberately hung up. I looked at the rough hand pressing the disconnect button, and my whole body started to tremble. The person stood in the shadows, looking down at me. “Lily, what are you doing out here in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?” Dad’s figure blocked the warm light of the phone booth, his face obscured by shadows, making him look terrifying. I couldn’t make out his expression, only feeling my blood run cold through my veins. “Who were you calling?” Tears welled in my eyes again, my throat felt squeezed, and I couldn’t make a sound. Dad’s voice suddenly rose. “Tell me! Who were you calling? Was it that ungrateful mother of yours?” Afraid of being discovered, I quickly shook my head, denying it. “No, no, it wasn’t, I didn’t…” Standing under the dim light of the phone booth, I looked at Dad’s dark, menacing face, and felt frozen to the core. He snatched the piggy bank I was clutching from my arms—the little piggy bank Mom had secretly given me before she left. “Wasn’t it?” Dad’s voice was cold as ice. “Then tell me, what are you doing out here in the middle of the night with this broken jar?” My mouth opened, but no sound came out. Tears blurred my vision. I could only see Dad’s rough hand gripping the piggy bank, his knuckles white from the grip. He grabbed my arm, so hard I stumbled. “Come back with me.” Back in that rented room, Dad placed the piggy bank heavily on the table, making a dull thud. I stood in the center of the room, head bowed, not daring to look at him. “Kneel.” I obediently knelt on the cold concrete floor, a sharp pain shot through my knees immediately. Dad paced the room, his worn-out work boots clomping on the floor, each step crushing my spirit. “I know you’ve always thought about your mother.” He stopped, his voice filled with suppressed rage. “But she abandoned us long ago. Abandoned you. Understand?” I bit my lower lip, fighting back the tears. My fingers tightened around the hem of my shirt, until they were white and aching. He suddenly raised his voice. “Who am I working so hard for? Huh?” “I worked myself to the bone on that construction site, all so you could make something of yourself, not end up like me!” “But what about you? Sneaking calls in the middle of the night? Are you trying to run off with her?” I abruptly looked up, hastily explaining, “No, Dad! I just, I just…” He took a step closer, his shadow engulfing me. “Just what?” I finally broke down, tears bursting forth. “I just missed her so much…” “I’m hungry every day, and so tired. I try my best, but you’re never satisfied.” “I just wanted to hear Mom’s voice…” His expression softened for a fleeting moment, but quickly hardened again. He picked up the piggy bank, staring at it for a long time. His voice suddenly became very soft. “She left when you were only six. She didn’t even look back.” This was the first time I’d heard Dad voluntarily mention the day Mom left. I held my breath, afraid to interrupt him. “She said she was sick of the hard life.” Dad gave a bitter laugh. “She said I was worthless, and that my child would suffer because of me.” He turned to me, his gaze complex. “I can’t let you end up like she said, worthless your whole life. Do you understand, Lily?” I stared at him, and suddenly noticed deep wrinkles around his eyes and his hair was far grayer than I remembered. He said softly, “I know you hate me, but one day you’ll understand!” “You were still wrong today. Tonight, your punishment is to kneel and do problems. No sleep until you finish!” I thought that by honestly telling Dad my feelings, I would receive his understanding. But my sincerity didn’t awaken the tender fatherly love I hoped for; instead, it led to even harsher punishment. I knelt on the cold, hard concrete, my knees slowly going numb. To save electricity, Dad didn’t even allow me to turn on the light. One tear after another fell onto my exercise book, while from the next room, Dad’s snoring already filled the air. Under the moonlight, my vision blurred with tears, and before I passed out, I thought I saw Mom coming to take me away.
When I woke up again, I found myself slumped over my desk, the sound of the teacher’s lecture in my ears. In my hand was a note. It read: “I saw you overslept so I brought you directly to school. Study hard at school!” “The punishment you didn’t finish last night continues today!” Such a suffocating message could only be from Dad. My stomach twisted in a sharp cramp, and I couldn’t hear a single word the teacher was saying. My deskmate, Chloe, saw my sallow face and colorless lips, and secretly slipped me a small pastry. “Did your dad not let you eat again? Quick, eat this.” I wanted to refuse, but I didn’t even have the strength. Chloe carefully unwrapped the bread for me and placed it in my hand. A wave of warmth welled up in my eyes; even a stranger cared about me so much. But Dad only wanted me to study without eating or sleeping. Just as I was about to put the pastry in my mouth, the teacher at the front of the class suddenly shouted, “Lily Miller, how dare you brazenly eat in class!” “Come with me to the office right now! The rest of you, self-study!” “And the one who gave her the pastry, you come too!” That life-saving pastry still didn’t make it to my mouth. In the teacher’s office, I nearly collapsed. Chloe had to steady me. I was frail as a dried blade of grass, but the teacher seemed not to notice, scolding us relentlessly. “I can’t deal with you two anymore. It’s time to call your parents!” With that, the teacher immediately pulled out her phone to dial. I quickly stepped forward to stop her. “Ms. Davies, I know I was wrong, please don’t call my dad!” “I haven’t eaten properly for days. Chloe just gave it to me because she saw I was so hungry.” “It has nothing to do with her!” Ms. Davies swatted my hand away, and I lost my footing, sprawling onto the floor. “Still trying to argue? Your parents really need to straighten you out!” Soon after, Dad rushed in, covered in dirt from the construction site. Chloe’s mom came with him. The moment Chloe saw her mom, she burst into tears, looking utterly wronged. Chloe’s mom first smiled and apologized to the teacher, then gently comforted Chloe. But my dad? Not only did he not ask for any explanation, he joined the teacher in scolding me even more harshly. “I work my fingers to the bone at the construction site, and all you do is cause trouble!” “When I was a kid, I survived on one bowl of porridge a day, so why can’t you?” “Stop pretending! Get up and apologize to the teacher!” But I didn’t even have the strength to push myself up, and the figures before me began to blur. “I… I just wanted a pastry…” I just wanted a pastry to fill my stomach, why couldn’t I have it? It was just one pastry, what harm could it do if I ate it? Why were these people hounding me so relentlessly? I just wanted a pastry, I just wanted to live. Chloe’s mom saw my distress and, finally unable to bear it, helped me to a chair. She put the pastry back in my hand. But Dad scolded Chloe’s mom. “Why are you, a stranger, interfering with her? She’s just spoiled and needs to be punished severely!” “Eat a pastry? What pastry?!” Dad stepped forward, swatted the pastry away with a slap, and grabbed my collar, pulling me in front of the teacher. “Apologize to the teacher, now!” I finally couldn’t bear it any longer, and tears welled up again. But this time, I didn’t even have the strength to cry. The moment before I collapsed, I heard a gentle voice. “Lily, Mom’s here to take you home!”
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