I remember this sentence in his suicide note. "When my books were shredded and a dead mouse appeared in my drawer, I thought about going home to talk to my parents and sister. But when I saw the scars on Sharon's body, I was speechless. What I've been through is not even one-tenth of what she endured. I shouldn't distract my parents and sister anymore, I shouldn't take away the attention that rightfully belongs to him."
So, on a quiet night, Shawn quietly took his own life. He was truly kind, leaving everything he had to me before his death. He didn't even make a sound, afraid to disturb everyone's rest.
It wasn't until dawn that my mother saw Shawn's body. She broke down in tears, traumatized. My father's hair turned gray overnight and he looked decades older. Sheryl, on the other hand, vented all her hatred on me.
She grabbed my hair and knocked me down in front of Shawn's portrait, demanding questions.
"Why?! Why did you do this? Shawn is such a gentle and kind person. After you returned to this family, he's been so tolerant and cautious. Why did you force him to death?"
I didn't know what to explain it.
Because I couldn't understand why Shawn wanted to commit suicide.
When I had three ribs broken and was locked in the pigsty, I didn't want to die. When I had my teeth knocked out for rebelling against the old bachelor at the east end of the village, I didn't want to die. Even if my adoptive parents didn't give me food for three days and three nights, I would drink rainwater, eat rats and do whatever it took to survive.
How could Shawn be scared to death by a dead rat? He should have stuffed the dead rat into those people's mouths, suffocating them!
But Sheryl wouldn't listen. She only wanted to kill me to avenge Shawn's death. In desperation, I kicked her in the stomach.
From then on, we had an irreconcilable feud. Years of suffering had instilled in me an extraordinary desire to survive. For me, staying alive was the most important thing in the world. When someone threatens my life, I would fight back without hesitation.
Like when my adoptive parents tried to beat me to death over 300,000 dollar in compensation. I called the police without hesitation and fled. Similarly, when Sheryl pushed me down the stairs, I, without a second thought, put rat poison in her food. Sheryl was sent for gastric lavage.