Chapter 1

Have you ever searched for your own name online?

I did—and found a notice asking someone to identify a body.

Her sex, age, height, build, even the clothes she wore: everything matched me.

I showed my mother. For an instant, terror seemed to flash in her eyes.

Then she sighed with relief and signed, “There is a resemblance. It frightened me too. Perhaps she was just wearing the same clothes.”

“What a coincidence,” I signed back. “Whose daughter was she? Did she take her own life, or did someone kill her? That poor girl.”

Mother stroked my head gently and said nothing.

At midnight, my stepfather came home drunk again.

The moment he kicked open the front door, I woke. Instinctively, I hid beneath the quilt and pressed myself against the wall, trembling.

On so many nights, he had come home drunk, forced his way into my room and sexually assaulted me.

First him.

Later, my stepbrother too.

I was terrified. It hurt.

Mother couldn’t hear or speak. My stepfather had threatened to kill us both if I told anyone.

The first night, I had fought and screamed, hoping Mother, my brother or Grandma would save me.

Thunder rolled outside.

Lightning split the night and lit two figures at the dark window.

Grandma.

And my brother.

“Grandma! Help! Brother, help me!”

My screams were desperate.

Grandma’s wrinkled face pressed against the glass like a grotesque mask. My brother stood beside her, his mouth open in shock.

She pushed him away.

Then she disappeared too.

I heard a door open.

She was coming to save me.

Hope surged. I kept fighting to get free.

But Grandma didn’t enter my room.

She went next door.

To Mother.

I heard her talking, with Mother’s indistinct sounds between her words.

She was deliberately keeping Mother occupied so she wouldn’t discover what was happening.

My brother’s face appeared at the window again.

The shock was gone.

Now he looked at me the way my stepfather did.

Like a predator.

After assaulting me, my stepfather dressed and left without a word.

Soon Grandma’s voice came from next door.

“Oh, Jianguo, you’re home! Look how much you’ve drunk. Daughter-in-law, get your husband some hot water. Wash him and help him to bed.”

Furniture shifted.

Water poured.

A few seconds later, Grandma entered my room.

I lay motionless. My tears were spent. My throat was raw from screaming.

She picked up my clothes and threw them at me in disgust.

“Get dressed. Look at you. Have you no shame?”

I pulled the quilt tightly around myself.

She stood there for a while. When I said nothing, she sighed and changed her tone.

“Don’t dwell on it. You’re a woman. Sooner or later you’d have to sleep with a man anyway.

“And it isn’t entirely your father’s fault. Wearing dresses all the time, showing yourself off like that. What man could resist?”

Then her voice changed again.

“But you mustn’t tell anyone. He’s a man, and you aren’t his real daughter. If people find out, they won’t blame him. They’ll blame you.

“They’ll say you’re a filthy little seductress. When your classmates and friends know, how will you live with yourself? Everyone will laugh at you.

“Not just you. They’ll laugh at your mother for raising a shameless daughter.

“And don’t tell her either. What good would that do? She’s deaf and can’t speak. If your father stops wanting you both, no one else will.

“How would you survive? Collect rubbish with her? People would only bully you more.

“Even your own grandparents didn’t want you. Remember your old home? You were both nearly beaten to death. My son saved you. He’s fed you all these years. Be grateful. Don’t cause trouble. Understand?”

I pulled the quilt over my head and shook.

Tears streamed down my face. I bit my lip until it bled.

For what had been done to me.

For the filthy things she was saying.

I wasn’t shameless.

I wasn’t bad.

I wore dresses, yes. Mother had made them out of old clothes. They reached my calves, with sleeves to my elbows.

It wasn’t my fault.

It was his.

But I couldn’t argue.

To them, anything I said was worthless.

Grandma finished scolding and left.

“Wash those dirty sheets yourself tomorrow,” she said at the door. “Don’t let your mother find out.”

I stayed under the quilt and cried all night.

The next morning, Mother came to wake me for breakfast.

I dressed and washed slowly, then stood at the kitchen door.

I saw him.

I couldn’t make myself enter.

He didn’t even look at me.

As on any other morning, he said nothing to me. He ate a few mouthfuls of porridge, took his keys and left.

Mother cleared away his bowl and turned to serve mine.

My brother hadn’t finished eating.

He looked at me and smiled viciously.

He resembled his father so much that his face merged in my mind with the one from last night.

My hell had begun.

Mother put a bowl of porridge on the table and kept gesturing for me to eat. I had school.

But my brother’s smile frightened me too much to approach.

At last Mother pulled me over, signing that I had to hurry or I’d be late.

Head down, I ate slowly.

Eventually my brother finished, wiped his mouth and left.

Thank goodness.

I’d thought he might wait for me on purpose.

The moment he walked through the gate, I turned and caught Mother’s hand.

“Mom, let’s go. Let’s leave this house. I’m scared!”

I signed frantically.

She looked puzzled.

“Why? What happened?”

I faltered.

I couldn’t tell her.

I didn’t know how. The urgency nearly made me cry.

She signed again.

“Where could we go? You’re still young. You need to go to school. I can’t hear or speak. I couldn’t support you on my own.”

I stared at her hands.

Despair flooded through me.

If we stayed, what would our lives become?

I was afraid.

Afraid my stepfather would keep hurting me.

The thought of him and what he’d done made me sick. I didn’t even want to live.

Should I tell Mother?

If she knew, surely she would take me away.

I’d rather collect rubbish with her than stay.

I decided.

I would gather every scrap of courage and tell her, whatever happened.

But just as I raised my hands, Grandma came in.

She immediately began shouting and signing, demanding to know why Mother hadn’t finished breakfast or cleaned up. There was fieldwork to do.

Mother hurried me along and turned to wash the bowls and clean the kitchen.

Grandma sat beside me.

Watching.

Her vigilance terrified me.

I understood.

I wasn’t going to get a moment alone with Mother.

I swallowed a few tasteless mouthfuls of porridge, shouldered my schoolbag and left.

Nothing the teacher said that day reached me.

I drifted through it in a haze.

Sometimes I thought I was dreaming.

Then the world would feel unbearably real.

I wondered whether I should go to the police.