Chapter 2 — Diary of Someone Who Shouldn't Exist

I raised my head, trying to keep my voice calm: "Dad... don't be angry. Give me a little more time, I will find a way to get money from mom. A lot... a lot of money." Lam Kien Quoc narrowed his eyes, his face twisted, his lips trembling with anger. "Slowly? I can't wait anymore!" Suddenly, his eyes flashed a strange light. The corners of his lips raised high, a sinister smile clearly visible: "Okay... then let dad check your body a bit." Having finished speaking, he smiled and unfastened his belt. “I have a hundred ways... to force that woman to give me money!” He grabbed my wrists, moving so hard that it hurt, then used a belt to tie my hands tightly behind my back. "Now, I will strip off your clothes and take some hot photos..." "If he doesn't give you money, I will post these photos online! I want to see if you still dare to raise your head at school!" He said, smiling wildly, slowly bending down, his rough hands slowly reaching for the buttons of his uniform. I bit my lip, closed my eyes, tears silently falling, seeping into the cold floor. At that moment — “BAM!” The rusty iron door was kicked open from the outside, the metallic sound was deafening, the whole room seemed to vibrate. A choked voice rang out in the thick air: "Nim Niem! Quickly follow you to the hospital!" “My mother… is dying!” I raised my head. The person standing at the door is my uncle. His eyes scanned the scene, seeing me tied up, belt falling on the floor, shirt askew, his face immediately turned pale. Blue veins bulged out on his neck, and the blood vessels on my brother's forehead twitched like they were about to explode. He rushed into the room, “pop!” — a huge punch hit Lam Kien Quoc straight in the face. Before I could react, he took off his vest and quickly put it on me, covering up the messed up uniform. Then he turned around, pushed Lam Kien Quoc hard and fell to the floor, a series of consecutive punches poured down like a storm. “Animals!” "Are you still human?! She's your biological daughter!" “Do you believe I will kill you right here?!” "Pop! Pop! Pop!" — the sound of fists hitting flesh, the sound of metal colliding from the belt falling to the floor. Lam Kien Quoc was beaten to the point that he had no time to defend himself. He could only cower and hold his head, his voice shaking and begging: "Don't... don't hit me anymore! Misunderstanding... it's all just a misunderstanding!" My uncle stopped, gasped, then grabbed his collar and pulled him up, his eyes bloodshot like a predator: "Misunderstanding?!" “What are you planning to do with my niece just now?!” Lam Kien Quoc spit out a mouthful of blood, his face was swollen, he quickly explained, his voice urgent: "I... I didn't! I just scared it! Just... just scared!" My uncle squinted his eyes, anger and murderous intent flashed in his eyes, then turned to look at me, his voice trembling slightly but full of pain: "Nim Niem... tell you, did... did he strip you of your clothes?" I shook my head, my voice was hoarse and bland as if I was talking about something that had nothing to do with me: "No... no." "I'm fine. He... hasn't done anything." Before my uncle could breathe a sigh of relief, I continued, my tone cold, like a thorn sticking straight into his throat: "The belt... I tied myself." “What… what?” He was stunned, his forehead wrinkled, he looked at me in disbelief, his eyes widened, his voice cracking into pieces: "What the hell are you talking about?" What is it… Niem Niem?!” I raised my eyes, my expression still expressionless, my pupils darkened, as if swallowed by darkness: "It's... I tied myself up." The atmosphere in the room froze. A dead silence, lasting to the point of suffocation. My uncle gritted his teeth, lowered his voice, and spoke every word, as if wanting to pierce the cover that I tried to hide: "Nim Niem... is... is it holding my fontanel?" “Nien Niem, talk to you! No matter what happens, I will stand up to protect you!” “Even if you have to risk your life, you will kill him here today!” I shook my head, my voice bland: "Nothing." Lam Kien Quoc slowly stood up with his hands and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. The corner of his lips curled up, a triumphant smile appeared, his voice was hoarse: "Do you hear me clearly? Your niece said it herself.” My uncle turned his head and glared at him, his eyes burning with anger: "Lin Kien Quoc, consider yourself lucky today! But remember, this is not over yet!” Having finished speaking, he turned around, knelt down next to me, put his hands on my shoulders, his eyes filled with worry: "Nim Niem, your mother is in emergency, you have to go see her!" I violently shook his hand away, my voice cold, without any hesitation: "I'm not going." “Even if she dies… I won't look at her again.” My uncle's whole body seemed frozen, his eyebrows furrowed into a deep line, his eyes full of horror and pain. But he didn't say another word, just clenched his jaw, then boldly lifted me onto his shoulders. “Let go of me! I said no go!” I struggled, repeatedly hitting his back, but my strength was too small, all resistance was useless. He opened the car door, put me in the back seat, closed the door with a "bang", then rushed straight towards the hospital. In the car, the wind howled outside the window, inside there was only the whine of the engine and the sound of his heavy breathing. His voice was hoarse, trying to hold back the choking: "Your mother lost too much blood and is still in the emergency room." “The doctor said, when stabbed… the blade was only an inch away from the heart.” “Before she fainted, she kept calling my name… afraid I would be scared.” His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his joints turned white, blue veins clearly visible on the back of his hands. The car sped along the road, but my chest felt as heavy as a rock, and I felt a lump in my throat. At that moment, the radio in the car rang out — an afternoon hotline program. A woman's voice from the other end of the line was trembling, angry, mixed with disbelief: "That girl named Tham Niem... what is she thinking?!" “Her mother risked her life to block the knife for her, and she turned and walked away without even looking at her!” “Does such a person… still have a heart?” The host sighed and chimed in with a heavy voice: "That's right, we can't understand either... How deep a hatred must it be for a daughter to do such a cold and cruel thing..." In the car compartment, every sentence and every word was like a sharp knife, cutting pieces of flesh. I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms, but still didn't open my mouth. Yes, my mother treats me very well. So good that... there's almost no flaw to blame. I still remember one time, I just blurted out complaining to my mother: "The school meal card... is so ugly." The next day, she deposited ten thousand on my card. She laughed said: “In that case… it will be the most beautiful card in school.” I looked at the scenery outside the car window receding, the light passing over my face, suddenly... my heart felt empty. Fingers trembling, grasping the door latch. “Crack” — the sound of the door opening. "Nim Niem! What are you doing?!" Amid his panicked scream, I leaned over and rushed straight out. When I opened my eyes again, it was in the hospital. The space was filled with the strong smell of antiseptic, but somewhere in between, I smelled my mother's familiar perfume. I tilted my head. On the hospital bed next to her, Mo Uyen - a proud, powerful woman, always walking between flash lights and fame - now has a pale face and dry, chapped lips. Her chest was covered with gauze, streaks of dark red blood were seeping out, seeping into the white fabric. She tried to open her eyes. When she saw I was awake, she tried to sit up, but her body was trembling and extremely weak. “Nim Niem… are you awake?” “Is… is there anything uncomfortable?” Her voice was hoarse, each sentence heavy with worry. She tried to smile and soothe me: "The doctor said you only have a mild concussion, don't be afraid..." I sat up, my back straight, my face as blank as a frozen lake. My eyes looked straight at her, cold and distant. Then, without warning, I yanked the IV needle out of the back of my hand. Fresh blood immediately gushed out from the needle mark, drop by drop falling onto the white sheet. I held the needle, my fingers trembling slightly, then brought the sharp needle up to my neck. “Let me go.” The whole room froze for a second. "Nien Niem! Are you crazy?" — my uncle roared, his voice hoarse with anger. "Put the needle down! Listen to me, put it down quickly!" My grandmother burst into tears, tears falling, her trembling hand reaching out to me, her voice choked up: "Nem Niem... you... are you going to force us to death?" Everyone's eyes were on me, scared, worried, pleading... But I just tightened my grip on the needle, my lips pursed so hard that they bled, no one knew what I was screaming inside. A group of reporters suddenly burst into the hospital room, flash lights flashed fiercely, shining straight into my face. "Oh my god! She is using suicide to threaten her own mother!" “What ungratefulness!” "General Manager Mo is so pitiful! He blocked the knife for his daughter, but now he's being forced to death!" “A girl like that… yes or no!”