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墨書 Inktalez
“Dad, who is she?” I couldn't help but ask after we had left the classroom, my voice trembling and my eyes filled with questions.
“She is going to be your mother,” Father said decisively, without a trace of guilt on his face, instead wearing an expression of relief.
Picking up a shattered bowl, no matter how finely one might piece it back together, the cracks would still remain. My family was like this broken bowl, irreparably damaged.
“What about Mom?” I asked, a sense of unease creeping into my heart. Back at home lay the body of Mother, whom I had killed—a reality that was unavoidable and needed immediate attention. Just thinking about it made my palms sweat.
“She will die today,” Father replied flatly, his voice devoid of any emotion. “But you don’t need to worry about that; I won’t let my daughter become a murderer. Come, let me help you change into your new shoes.”
I leaned against the wall for support, feeling weak.
Father knelt down and carefully helped me take off my shoes and put on the new ones. His movements were gentle, yet I felt no warmth from them. Looking down at him from this angle, I noticed his thinning hair and the white strands that made him appear much older. A piece of white paper peeked out from the pocket of his suit jacket, looking like some sort of document.
From my vantage point, I could see words related to insurance on the document.
For some reason, curiosity compelled me to reach out and pull out the paper to take a look.
“What are you doing?” Father’s expression changed dramatically; his calm demeanor turned into one of rage in an instant. He jumped up, snatched the document from my hands, and disdainfully threw down my old shoes as if they were something loathsome.
Father’s sudden shift left me bewildered. I stood there in a daze, staring at him, unsure of what to do.
“How can you treat your child like this?” The woman beside us feigned concern while ignoring the shoes discarded at her feet, a smug smile playing on her lips.
Father's tone softened as he gently said, "This is very important. I don't want you to get involved, so you don't need to worry about anything. After today, we will be free from your mother forever. Promise me you'll come home on time after school, okay?"
A warmth that had long been absent flickered in Father's eyes, accompanied by a hint of expectation. I blinked back tears and nodded vigorously, but inside I was wondering: what exactly was he planning?
Before leaving, Father asked with concern, "You don’t have gym class today, right? Don’t ruin your new shoes on the first day!"
"Don’t worry! We don’t have gym class today," I replied, my voice a bit subdued.
"Good, now hurry to class!" Father forced a smile that was more painful than crying, making his face seem even darker.
Once back in the classroom, I finally felt safe enough to unfold the scraps of paper in my hand. It was a corner of the document that Father had snatched away earlier.
There was only a short line of text on it, indicating the insurance policy's start date and effective date.
To my surprise, all the dates were today. Didn't Father say he had taken out the policy for Mother yesterday? Why were the dates today? My conclusion was that Father had deceived me for some reason.
I recalled various fragments: Father wrapping Mother in the Electric Blanket to maintain her body temperature, potentially misleading the investigating police into making incorrect judgments.
With just a delay of a few hours, Father could arrange everything so that Mother's "death" would be recorded as occurring today, allowing him to collect the one million in insurance.
But why did he need to lie to me?
As I struggled to think through it all, I scribbled lines on the paper with my pen, my brow furrowed tightly and my eyes betraying a mix of anxiety and confusion.
A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered that the Suicide Note I wrote yesterday had been taken by Father. If the police came to investigate, this Suicide Note would be enough evidence to arrest me.
But if Father truly cared for me, there would be no need for deception. Even if I confessed to Killing, my age would exempt me from the Death Penalty, and my actions could be understood.
There could only be one reason for Father to do these things: he killed Mother.
He killed Mother right in front of me.
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