He seemed surprised to find me sitting by his bedside. With a hoarse voice, he asked, "What's wrong? You look terrible—are you sick?"
Sick? Maybe. Wasn't my relationship with that person utterly twisted?
"Honey..." My throat felt parched, my voice trembling.
"Did Mom scold you again?"
He struggled to sit up, his large, warm hand gently enveloping mine. His expression was tender, his gaze lingering and soft.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. It's all my fault for putting you through this. I promise I'll get better soon. Just hang in there a little longer, okay?"
My heart clenched, and tears of guilt nearly spilled over.
How could someone so gentle possibly be that monstrous devil? Shame washed over me for even associating him with such evil.
My body, defiled again and again,
