I was born in a poor, ignorant mountain village.
Here, if a firstborn is a girl, she is drowned at birth and buried in the steps at the entrance, sealed in with mud and sand.
I survived because my mother fought to keep me alive.
My mother was a wealthy woman who was trafficked here.
One day, while she was out, she was forcibly dragged into a car by human traffickers and sold to this village.
At that time, I was already growing in her womb.
The man who bought her was a drunkard from the village named Ryman.
He was immediately captivated by her beauty and insisted on buying her, arguing with his family until they agreed.
Here, my mother endured unspeakable humiliation, and at times, she wanted to end her life.
That was until I was born.
She told me that my arrival saved her; I was the light of her life.
She often held me close in the quiet of the night, singing the lullabies from her hometown.
"Wind is gentle, the moon is bright, the crickets chirp...”
Her embrace was so warm, and her tears so hot.
She whispered softly, "Serena, we don’t belong here. One day, we will go home."
Serena—that was the name my mother gave me.
A name filled with her longing for her family.
However, my birth brought my mother disaster.
I was not Ryman’s child, and my appearance bore no resemblance to his.
When I was three months old, someone teased Ryman, saying that I was so beautiful and pure, that I didn’t resemble any member of the Holt family.
Upon hearing these whispers, Ryman came home, picked me up, and scrutinized me.
When he concluded I wasn’t his child, he raised me high and was about to slam me onto the ground.
My mother threw herself at him, tearing at him and cursing, before she managed to snatch me back.
I survived.
But my mother’s nightmare had only just begun.
Ryman believed my mother was a woman for everyone, and every day when he came home drunk, he would beat and curse her.
As far back as I can remember, my mother would grit her teeth, curl up to protect her head, and endure the storm of fists that rained down on her.
I was small and weak, unable to stop the brutality.
Each time, I could only throw myself at her, trying to shield her with my tiny body.
Seeing her battered and bruised, my hatred for Ryman grew deeper.
And in my heart, the resolve to escape this place with my mother only strengthened.
After each beating, my mother had to drag her injured body to wash clothes, cook, and do chores for Ryman.
If she didn’t, she would be publicly humiliated and suffer even crueler insults in front of the whole village.
Her dreary life continued like this for seven years.
Until today.
My mother and I attempted to escape once again.
We didn’t make it far before Ryman found us.
Ignoring her pleas, he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her down the hillside.
Every time my mother was beaten by Ryman, her body covered in bruises, an overwhelming rage surged within me.
I swore to protect her from Ryman’s cruelty, no matter the cost.
I followed closely behind, raising a stone, and threw it with all my strength at the back of his head.
Blood and brain matter exploded out.
Ryman was dead.
