After Five Years, She Still Wants My Corneas

A Failed Promise

My grandmother sat quietly, waiting for my mother to finish searching every corner before saying, "She's truly gone. Her body has already been donated. She said she wanted to make sure that you would never see her again in this life, whether alive or dead."

My mother's face twisted with rage as she glared at my grandmother. "Mom, you're my mother. Do you even remember how Dad died? If it weren't for that wretched girl, Dad would still be fine. And Jeremy's eyes would still be perfect! I only want that murderer's cornea now! I'm not asking for her life! I truly regret adopting her!"

My grandmother looked at her with disappointment written all over her face. "And she regrets being adopted by you."

My mother kicked over a nearby chair. "If she doesn't show up, you'll be out on the street! The deed to this house is in my name. If I don't let you stay, you have no right to live here."

She slammed the door on her way out. My grandmother collapsed onto the ground, her trembling hands pulling out the only photograph of me from her pocket.

Tears streamed down her face. "Charlie, if you hadn't crossed paths with our family, would you still be living a good life? Do you regret saving Jeremy?"

I don't know either.

Five years ago, Jeremy insisted on going on a graduation trip.

Afraid something would happen to him, I had no choice but to accompany him.

In the end, he came back alone, clutching his blinded right eye.

He told my mother that we had run into trouble, and I had abandoned him. He claimed someone had stabbed his eye and that he barely escaped.

When my grandfather heard about my disappearance, he suffered a heart attack and died on the spot.

My mother took Jeremy to the hospital for treatment, all while cursing my name. She wished for nothing more than my death.

However, she didn't know that, at that time, I was enduring a fate worse than death.

Jeremy's so-called graduation trip? That was all a lie. He had been lured by the promise of "easy girls to play with."

Truth be told, they were after his kidneys, but with me involved, things took a different turn.

We were dragged deep into the mountains.

On the way, I found a chance to escape. I clung to those men with all the strength I had, buying Jeremy enough time to run.

"Run quickly! Get the cops here! I recognize their accents and know where they're from! You must bring the police to rescue me," I said.

He swore he would come back, but he didn't.

Instead, those men dragged me like a beaten animal into the heart of the mountains.

They locked me in a shack, a ramshackle hut barely holding itself together. The walls were riddled with gaps, and the roof was made of piled-up straw that didn't even keep out the rain. When it rained, water seeped in from every corner.

I lay in the mud, helpless, as they violated me over and over.

There was always someone watching me, and they ran this place like a business, charging per person.

Last time, it was ten dollars per visit or sometimes just a piece of bacon.

I lost count of how many men visited. There were old men, able-bodied men, disabled men, and even those who weren't in their right mind. As long as they paid, anyone could do it.

I spent three years marking the passing of time by the fading light outside, day after day.

I lost count of how many times I got pregnant. Each time, after one or two months, the pregnancy was forcibly ended through violence because pregnancy meant I couldn't make them any money.

I pieced together from the snippets of their conversations that after Jeremy escaped, he made it to the county where he could have called the police, but he didn't.

Afraid they might catch up to him, he kept running.

It would have only taken five minutes for the police to track me down, but he didn't even give me that opportunity.

I had no choice but to change, day by day, becoming more submissive and pretending to be docile so they would slowly lower their guard.

Finally—

That year, heavy rain came, and a landslide tore through the shack.

I escaped. Unfortunately, it took me two years to walk from the mountains back to my grandmother's house.

When she saw me, she thought she was dreaming. She kept asking if it was really me.

I broke down and collapsed into her arms, sobbing.

My grandmother, overwhelmed with grief, called my mother and begged her to come.

Alas, she was too busy taking care of Jeremy.

She kept accusing my grandmother of lying, insisting, "That ungrateful wretch would never come back. And if she does, I'll break her legs!"

My grandmother spent every last penny of her savings trying to get me medical treatment, but my body was already beyond repair.

So, after signing the body donation form, I died on the hospital bed.

After my death, my grandmother reached out to my mother again, but she brushed it off, saying my grandmother must have lost her mind due to her old age. She believed Jeremy, who told her I had been lured away by some gangsters, and that made her hate me even more.

She never believed me, only him. Not back then, and not now.