The searing pain kept me awake all night.
Over and over, my mind screamed the same thought:
I needed to leave. I needed to live with Aunt Lisa.
If only…
I wasn’t their child.
If only…
I could be hers.
At least with Aunt Lisa, I’d get a hot meal. I’d be allowed to see a doctor.
From the other room, their snores rose—deep and satisfied, as if torturing me was their nightly entertainment.
That night, a dark thought coiled around me like a snake:
If my family no longer existed… maybe Aunt Lisa could finally take me away.
By dawn, that thought consumed me.
When I saw the rice I had washed over and over, the idea reached its peak.
I told myself:
Mom always taught me—save every penny, never waste anything.
Throwing away this whole pot of rice would be such a waste…
