Chapter 8
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Thanks to his outstanding performance on this mission, Vincent not only received the Navy Cross but also earned a three–month leave.
After discussing it, we decided to go home to visit our families.
Vincent drove the jeep while I held our child, constantly describing the scenery outside the window to him.
Unexpectedly, just as we reached the community entrance, Vincent suddenly slammed on the brakes, causing us to lurch forward uncontrollably.
My eldest son took the worst of it, his forehead swelling up from the impact.
Watching my child cry in pain, I looked toward the person who had recklessly blocked our path.
“Help me, please help me…”
་་
She frantically pounded on the car window. Looking at that gaunt face, I froze.
Though I had anticipated Isabella’s situation would be dire, her wretched state far exceeded my expectations.
Even during the Great Depression, no one had been reduced to
Chapter 8
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J
such a skeletal condition.
Her exposed arms were covered in horrifying purple bruises.
At that moment, Frank, who had been chasing her, finally appeared.
The obese Frank looked absolutely furious.
He grabbed Isabella and dragged her back, completely indifferent to whether she might get hurt.
He said, “Get back and have that baby! No more running! If you run again, I’ll tie you up just like last time.”
Frank stood there with a stupid grin on his face.
Isabella, who had been lifeless moments before, suddenly kicked Frank away and cowered backward, her face filled with terror.
Neighbors, drawn by the commotion, gathered around. Seeing Isabella disheveled and collapsed on the ground, they all showed expressions of sympathy.
“How could Robert treat his daughter like this? Isabella’s been
tortured to this extent…”
“Everyone used to say Isabella was so lucky…”
“Whose fancy new car is that? Did some rich folks move to our
Chapter 8
lown?”
Someone had noticed our vehicle.
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People craned their necks curiously, and some quick–thinking kids had already run off to the community center to spread the news.
Seeing the gathering crowd, Vincent and I exchanged glances before getting out of the car with our child.
“Hello everyone, sorry we haven’t been back in so long. Vincent’s on leave this time, so we brought the children home to visit our parents.”
Knowing Vincent wasn’t good with social situations, I took the initiative to speak.
Hearing my voice, Isabella, who had been cowering on the ground, suddenly looked up and stumbled through the crowd toward me.
“Eleanor? How can it be you?”
Seeing her incredulous expression, I calmly asked in return, “Why couldn’t it be me? What did you think I’d look like?”
She opened her mouth but couldn’t make a sound.
Honestly, while I had foreseen that Isabella would have a tragic
Chapter 8
experience, I hadn’t expected it to be this brutal.
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In my previous life, when she was at Pearl Harbor base, Vincent had at least ensured her basic needs were met—she was just psychologically unbalanced.
In that past life, though I was abused by the Wilson family, I wasn’t physically destroyed because I still had reproductive
value.
Therefore, I had never imagined Isabella would be tortured to this extent.
“Eleanor, did you come back to mock me? Well, you’ve succeeded–I’ve become a complete joke.”
Just as she finished speaking, shocked exclamations could be heard in the distance.
B
