I Am Not a Murderer Mom
377 Views · Ongoing · Ryu
"Crawling to the end of this red carpet is exactly fifty steps. Bark like a dog, and it's ten thousand a step."
Alex, holding a cigar between his fingers, contemptuously slapped the check against my face. "Five hundred thousand. That should be enough to cure that bastard you gave birth to, right?"
Amidst the roaring laughter of the celebrities filling the room, I did not retort.
Meeting the disgust in his eyes, I dropped heavily to my knees right onto the floor littered with broken glass shards.
"Woof."
A dry bark squeezed out of my throat, and pressing my hands into the glass shards, I crawled one step forward.
The fingers holding Alex's cigar suddenly froze for a second.
The next second, the shiny tip of his leather shoe viciously stomped on my bleeding fingers, grinding them down hard. "So cheap right out of prison. It really makes me sick."
A piercing pain shot through my fingers. I bit down hard on the tip of my tongue until it bled, dragging two bloody trails as I continued inching forward.
Fifty steps. Five hundred thousand.
I didn't care that my dignity was being trampled to pieces beneath his foot.
Because the high and mighty Alex had no idea—
That the little boy lying in the emergency room, the one he kept cursing as a "bastard," the one being pushed to the brink of death by thrombosis...
Every drop of blood flowing in his bones was his. Alex's blood.
Alex, holding a cigar between his fingers, contemptuously slapped the check against my face. "Five hundred thousand. That should be enough to cure that bastard you gave birth to, right?"
Amidst the roaring laughter of the celebrities filling the room, I did not retort.
Meeting the disgust in his eyes, I dropped heavily to my knees right onto the floor littered with broken glass shards.
"Woof."
A dry bark squeezed out of my throat, and pressing my hands into the glass shards, I crawled one step forward.
The fingers holding Alex's cigar suddenly froze for a second.
The next second, the shiny tip of his leather shoe viciously stomped on my bleeding fingers, grinding them down hard. "So cheap right out of prison. It really makes me sick."
A piercing pain shot through my fingers. I bit down hard on the tip of my tongue until it bled, dragging two bloody trails as I continued inching forward.
Fifty steps. Five hundred thousand.
I didn't care that my dignity was being trampled to pieces beneath his foot.
Because the high and mighty Alex had no idea—
That the little boy lying in the emergency room, the one he kept cursing as a "bastard," the one being pushed to the brink of death by thrombosis...
Every drop of blood flowing in his bones was his. Alex's blood.

















































