Revenge Bound on My Father

Chapter 1

[1]

On the seventh day after my mother's death, I helped my father lure a beautiful young woman to our home. She wore a floral dress, her hair was sleek and black, and her eyes were clear and bright. I had never seen such a beautiful woman before and stared at her in fascination for a long time.

In front of my mother's portrait, my father wrapped his arm around the slender waist of the new woman and grinned, showing his yellow teeth. "This time, I've got myself a well-educated city woman. She'll definitely give me a smart son!"

After saying that, he spat on my mother's portrait. "Ugh, that useless woman cost me so much money and only gave me a daughter. If it weren't for this girl's smarts, she would have gone to hell with her mother."

His saliva, mixed with the smell of smoke and alcohol, sprayed onto my face. I shrank back, lowering my eyes in fear, not daring to make a sound.

The new woman hung her head, her expression unreadable. She stepped closer and suddenly slapped me hard across the face, glaring at me with hatred. "You and your father tricked me! I actually believed your father was abusing you and wanted to help you escape!"

I ignored her, covering my face and smiling ingratiatingly at my father. "Dad, can I have a blanket to cover myself with tonight?"

He nodded benevolently, then dragged the tear-streaked, emotionally shattered new woman away. Not long after, I heard my father's animalistic grunts coming from the next room.

I knelt numbly on the ground, burning paper money in mourning for my mother, my hands cold and stiff. In her portrait, my mother seemed to be smiling. Or maybe she was crying.

That evening, when the new woman came to dinner, she was covered in bruises. Her eyes were swollen and red, her appearance disheveled, while my father looked refreshed and satisfied, clearly having satisfied his brutal urges.

Under her resentful gaze, I slowly lowered my head. I knew she thought I had deceived her. But I hadn't. My father's abuse was real, and the horrifying scars on my body were real too. I was merely a tool to keep my mother from escaping, never seen as a person in my father's eyes.

My mother had been bought from people traffickers by my grandmother because no one wanted to marry my alcoholic, gambling father. After being brought here, my mother resisted fiercely, always plotting her escape. This worried my father and grandmother greatly.

Then, a neighbor gave my father an idea. "Morris, why don't you have her give you a child? Once she has a child, she won't dare to leave."

Originally, my mother was bought to continue the family line. This suggestion was an eye-opener for my father and grandmother. That very night, they spiked my mother's drink. They succeeded. A month later, my mother was pregnant with me.

At first, she tried every possible way to abort me, but my grandmother kept a close watch on her, and she failed. After giving birth to me, my mother could have left, but she chose to stay. Because I was a girl, my grandmother was deeply disappointed and nearly killed me. If my mother had left, I would have surely died. So, she tore up her escape plans and chose to stay, enduring my grandmother's bullying and my father's beatings to raise me until I was twelve.

Half a month ago, the law changed, and marriage no longer required a household registration. My father, working in the city, set his sights on the new woman's wealthy family. She was kind and didn't look down on my father's ugly appearance like others did. Instead, she took care of him. This gave my father wicked thoughts. After returning home, he poisoned my mother. Then, he forced me to help him lure the new woman home.

On the seventh day after my mother's death, my father forced her to use her ID to get a marriage certificate. His intentions were clear-he was after her family's money. Sure enough, at the dinner table, my father spoke up. "You're one of us now. Hurry up and give me a son to continue the family line. Once the child is born, have your father find me a cushy job so I can take good care of you and the baby."

[2]

Grandma had just placed the last dish of meat on the table.

Hearing Dad's words, she shot me a sharp look and said sarcastically, "Better hope your belly cooperates this time and doesn't give us another burden."

New Mom clenched her fists and suddenly stood up, slamming her bowl down with force. She flipped the table over without a second thought, her eyes red with anger as she shouted, "I will never have a child for a beast like you, not unless I'm dead!"

The table was in chaos, with the meat falling to the ground. I quickly crouched down to grab some, even though it was covered in dirt and dust.

Mom always taught me that dirty food shouldn't be eaten because it would cause stomach aches. But Mom, I'm so hungry that I can't care about that anymore. Since you left, Grandma hasn't given me food or a place to stay. I sleep in the storage shed, eat rotten leftovers, and drink thin rice gruel. She says that as a girl, it's a miracle I've survived this long, and I should be grateful for any food I get. So you wouldn't blame me, right?

The grit in the food hurt my teeth, but I closed my eyes in satisfaction.

New Mom yanked me up and slapped me across the face. Her eyes were filled with tears.

"You wretch, you've brought me to this, and yet you still get to eat meat?" she cried. "You can't eat that, spit it out!"

As she spoke, she hit my back and even tried to pry my mouth open.

Dad's eyes lit up, and he exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Grandma. New Mom was forcibly taken back to her room, but she kept staring at me until the very last moment.

Feeling guilty, I avoided her gaze and numbly chewed the food in my mouth.

Dad walked over to me, speaking kindly for the first time.

"Rena, she's your new mom," he said. "Watch her closely for me. If she tries to run, come tell Dad."

With that, he picked up a clean piece of meat and brought it to my mouth.

"You like eating meat, don't you?" he asked. "Every time you tell on her, I'll let you have some meat."