Just a few words and he hit all my weak spots.

That was Bobby's confidence, his reason to trample on me however he pleased.

Bitterness filled my chest and for the first time I understood the consequences of the so-called 'broken windows effect.'

"Bobby, if I kneel, will you sign the papers?" Before he could respond, I had already knelt down.

After doing so many things without dignity over the years, what was one more? But that one action thoroughly enraged Bobby.

He yanked me up and dragged me into the study on the first floor. He pressed me down, tore off his tie and tied me to the leg of the desk.

***

Anita's clothes hit the floor in a second.

Bobby's rough panting echoed between pauses and papers flew through the air.

I watched the two entangled bodies and shut my eyes in pain, tears finally sliding down my face. How many times had this happened?

I couldn't even count anymore. Almost every girl he brought home ended in this same scene. And I still had to clean up after them.

I didn't know how much time had passed. My whole body was numb, gradually losing all feeling.

Until my phone kept ringing and I realized the wrecked study was empty again, "Kirsten Watson? Your dad's in our hands. If you don't bring the money by six, he won't live to see the morning sun."

My numb heart barely stirred, "How much this time?"

The man said, "Three million."

That number made me tremble. I checked the time, it was three in the morning. The darkness outside the window was thick as ink that refused to fade.

The door opened. Bobby stood there naked, a cigarette glowing red at his fingertips.

"Bobby, I need three million," I said.

He laughed, stubbed out the cigarette, locked the door and ignored me completely. That night, no matter how much I shouted or struggled, no one came to open the door. Not until six in the morning, when the sun finally rose.

Three days later, I received a call from the police, "Miss Watson, we found a male body in the southern suburbs. It's your father …"

I stared at the photo the kidnappers had sent three days earlier … The man who had raised me for over twenty years was missing all four limbs, the scene drenched in blood.

And looking at it, I laughed. Maybe it was better this way. We were all free now.

I sneaked out of the house, only to run into a car at the corner.

The window rolled down and a familiar face appeared, "I'll take you."

It was Andrew Jackson, my childhood neighbor. He didn't speak and neither did I during our ride.

He asked suddenly, "Kirsten, do you regret choosing Bobby? As long as you answer, the seat next to me is always open for you."

***

The man in that photo taken five years ago was Andrew.

Bobby had questioned me again and again, "Why does it have to be Andrew!"

That sentence was strange, like he would've accepted it if it were someone else.

I ignored Andrew and got out of the car.

After that incident, Andrew had gone abroad. I couldn't contact him no matter what.

Countless unread emails gradually destroyed my marriage and my life.

If my dad and brother were burdens, then Andrew was the final spark that burned it all down. I didn't want any of them.

The police station was crowded. Everyone moved fast, their expressions grim as if the sky had fallen.

"Has the deceased's family arrived yet?"

"Incredible. The body's been dead three days and no one reported it?"

A few officers were chatting nearby. I walked over and quietly reported my father's name.

They gave me a sideways glance, their frowns carrying a hint of blame.

I gave the police the phone number and photo from the call and explained everything about my dad's gambling.

After ruling it a homicide, the police said they needed to continue the investigation and told me to go home and wait for updates.

"This daughter's heartless, got the message and neither raised the money nor called the police …" The whispers behind me were harsh, but I didn't seem to care anymore.

Since the case wasn't closed, the body couldn't be cremated.

I signed a few forms and by the time I left the station, it was already night. I took a cab to see my younger brother.

My brother had been beaten into paralysis because of dad's gambling debt. He was still conscious and his hands could move slightly, but the rest of his body was immobile.

The doctors said his organs were slowly failing and there wasn't much meaning left in keeping him alive.

He was lying in bed with his eyes half-closed, already asleep.

I tucked him in and quietly talked to him. About dad, about me, about him. There seemed to be no end to the things I needed to say and all the grievances I had. I didn't leave the room until the sky brightened.

I was so tired. A whole day and night passed and Bobby hadn't called me once.

When I got home, he was laughing and chatting with that group of students, discussing their business trip. They were all smiled, the atmosphere light.

I pulled the divorce papers from my bag and slapped them onto the table again.

The laughter stopped instantly. Bobby's eyes burned with rage, like he wanted to incinerate me on the spot, "You've been gone a whole day and night and you come home to give me this?"

"What … did you get that three million by selling yourself?" The things that came out of Bobby's mouth were vile.

Every word was a hooked knife, draining me of the strength to argue.

"I saw Mrs. Brooke get into a man's car yesterday morning. Look like that man is Professor Jackson who just came back from abroad." Anita rested her chin in her hand and smiled at me, her eyes flicking between me and Bobby.

The next second, Bobby stood up and slapped me across the face, "This is why you want a divorce? Just because Andrew came back, you couldn't hold yourself back anymore, huh? That night at the party, you saw him and couldn't wait to give me the divorce papers, right?"

I hadn't slept in a day and night and with that slap, my head was spinning. My heart was already dead and now completely numb.

"I even saw Mrs. Brooke kiss Professor Jackson." Anita's voice was soft and sweet, but her words were like arrows.

I clenched my teeth and held it in for a long time, but I didn't know which string finally snapped. I grabbed the chair beside me and smashed it toward Anita's head.

In that moment, the world went silent.

She cried out for help, "Mr. Brooke … help me …"

Through bloodshot eyes, I watched Bobby carried Anita out of the house. Everyone huddled together, looking at me like I was a monster, "Kirsten, you've really gone mad!"

I sat numbly in the living room until Bobby appeared again, "You hurt someone, what, you think you can just sit at home and do nothing? Anita says either you go serve her in the hospital, or she's pressing charges."

I stared at the blood on the floor in a daze and swallowed hard, "Let her sue me. I don't care if they give me the death penalty."

That careless response only made Bobby more irritated. He dragged me into the car and brought me straight to Anita.

For the next few days, I had to stay in the hospital to take care of her.

That young woman commanded me again and again, "This apple tastes bad, go buy a better one!"

"I want braised turkey and it has to be from San Diego, simmered on low heat for two hours!"

"What's wrong with you? You can't even slice a pear properly!" Slap after slap landed on my face and I didn't fight back at all.

I didn't know when these days would ever come to an end.

Until that night, when I returned with some water and saw Anita in my brother's hospital room. This was the only place where I could find peace.

She said, "So this is where you disappear to at night. Turns out there's a cripple waiting for you here?"

"Ugh, how disgusting. He wet himself." Anita pointed at the soaked bedsheet with a look of disgust, "If I were him, I'd rather be dead."

My brother's eyes were wide open, his face turning red and he whimpered as he cried. I dropped the basin in my hands and shoved Anita, tried to force her out.

But she suddenly turned and leaned toward my brother's bed, giggled, "Your sister doesn't dare to divorce because of you and your brother-in-law brings women home to have fun every day. You're just a huge burden!"

I rushed forward and slapped her hard. Anita lost her balance and fell right onto the wet bedsheet.

She screamed and stomped around, then went crazy and shoved my brother off the bed.

All the machines crashed to the ground and I saw the oxygen tube get yanked out. A moment later, the monitor let out a few beeps before flattening into a long tone.

Anita looked frightened. Just then, Bobby walked in and she ran into his arms, "Mr. Brooke, she hit me again …"

My head buzzed as I looked at the chaos around me. I'd thought about ending it all many times, but never imagined it would come like this.

Looking at my brother's lifeless body, the black mole on the back of his right hand stung my eyes.

Just now, I had seen it. It was that same hand, the one with the mole, that pulled out the oxygen tube. My brother had done it himself.

Even Bobby hadn't expected things to turn out like this. He coughed a few times, "Alright, how about this. Anita won't press charges for you hitting her. And you don't investigate this incident either."

"Your brother's been paralyzed for years. A man living like that with no dignity, it's better to die with some grace." With a few careless words, Bobby dismissed my brother's life.

"Your dad's in debt again, isn't he? Three million, right? I'll get it for you later. Kirsten, stop making trouble." He spoke like he was giving alms to a beggar, said a few more things, then left.

Kirsten … He hadn't called me that in five years.

I laughed and laughed, then cried, then laughed again.

It was finally over. All of it should end now.

My father's body hadn't been cremated, but I had my brother's cremated. There weren't many relatives, so I didn't hold a funeral.

As I walked out of the crematorium, I called Andrew, "Andrew, come pick me up." I brought my brother's urn home.

Those female students rushed in again, wanting to take stuff. As always, I didn't stop them. I even brought out quite a bit from storage.

Their eyes lit up with joy and they happily left with whatever they picked. Only the box filled with memories of me and Bobby, no one wanted it. They didn't want it and neither did I.

That night, once again, I handed the divorce papers to Bobby.

"Kirsten, haven't you caused enough trouble?" As expected, Bobby got angry again. He not only smashed my brother's urn, but also locked me in a room.

When Andrew climbed over the wall to get me out, it was the first time I truly felt my miserable past had come to an end.

Bobby had spent the whole night drinking and when he woke up, he instinctively reached for hangover pills.

He asked the housekeeper, "Wendy, where's the hangover medicine?"

"Madam kept it. I'll go ask her." Wendy wiped her hands and went upstairs to look for her. When she opened the door, the room was completely empty.

Bobby seemed to sense something and rushed upstairs in big strides, "Wendy, has Madam's father been here recently?"

Wendy let out a sound of surprise and spoke in shock, "Sir, Madam's father was hacked to death and dumped in the suburbs a few days ago. The killer still hasn't been found. It's been all over the news. Haven't you seen it?"

The room was empty. Bobby stood there, stunned for several minutes, as if his blood ran backward.

A deep sense of loneliness swept over him. For the first time, Bobby felt the pain of someone truly leaving him.