Cannot Hold On to Loved Ones

The Remote in My Hand

More than once, their feet landed on my severed fingers scattered across the floor.

They spent a long time inspecting the scene before my mother finally crouched beside me. When her gaze brushed over the broken stumps of my fingers, a flicker of disgust crossed her face. She reached out as if to touch my cheek, but ended up only straightening my collar.

With a wretched look, she said, "Your father and I came too late. It's our fault this time, Will. We were abroad, so we couldn't save you in time. Things are complicated now, and it isn't convenient for us to acknowledge you. Be good and go with the doctors for treatment."

I stared at her blankly, my tightly clenched right hand twitching. If my mother had cared even a little about whether my hand hurt or whether it could be saved, she would have noticed the remote hidden in my mangled palm—the one thing that could destroy their family. But she didn't.

Several nurses crowded around me then. Their eyes brimmed with tears as they stroked my filthy face and tried to soothe me. "It's okay, sweetheart. You're safe now. It won't hurt anymore…"

They wept as they carefully picked up my severed fingers from the floor, knowing full well there was no chance of reattaching them but still keeping them safe. My parents, on the other hand, had already turned away, pretending not to see me.

When they lifted me onto a stretcher, a nurse noticed that my right hand was clamped around something. She coaxed me gently. "Sweetheart, let go so I can bandage you. It won't hurt as much once it's wrapped up."

When I didn't respond, she tried to pry my hand open, but even a little force made me bleed. So she gave up and called out to my father. "Captain Lewis, the boy's holding something in his right hand and won't let go. I think it might be evidence about the kidnapper, or something important from his family. Do you want to take a look?"

My father's expression sharpened as if he'd suddenly realized something and started toward me. At that moment, Ezel strode in wearing a white suit, surrounded by a cordon of special ops officers. He threw himself into my father's arms, trembling like he was the real victim.

My father soothed him patiently before glancing back at my hand. A flash of jealousy flickered in Ezel's eyes as he screamed and clutched at my father. "Dad, his hand is so scary! Don't go over there—I'll have nightmares!"

My father immediately stopped, covering Ezel's eyes with his palm as he moved to take him out.

Just then, my father's superior stepped up beside him. "Lewis, that boy keeps looking at you like he wants to say something. Do you know him?"

My father didn't even turn his head. "No."

The superior patted his shoulder. "The kidnapper was clearly after your son. You'd better keep a close watch on Ezel from now on."

My father nodded. "Of course. Even if something happens to me, nothing will happen to my son."

"At least it wasn't Ezel who got kidnapped…" My mother murmured under her breath.

I lay on the stretcher like a dead fish, my eyelids fluttering. Tears spilled uncontrollably down my face, but I still forced myself to raise my trembling right hand toward my mother. 'Mom, this is something important to you. I haven't shown it to anyone. Why won't you even look at it? Do I disgust you that much?'

She let out a sharp cry and jumped back, brushing off her uniform even though no blood had touched it. My hand froze in midair.

Across the room, Ezel cheerfully urged her, "Mom, come on! Dad says we're going out for steak to celebrate surviving this!"

Watching the happy backs of that family as they walked away, I couldn't hold it in any longer. My right hand unclenched at last, and with my mangled fingers I pressed the post button.