Chapter 3: The Officers Who Turned Against Me

No matter what the police asked, my family refused to come clean.

"It's a custom in our village. He agreed to bring them inside to pay their respects. Whatever happens after that is beyond our control."

"Yeah. Everything is fate."

My friend, Stewart Langley, who had come with the police, saw the injuries covering my body and nearly exploded with rage.

He stormed over and grabbed Dad by the collar.

"He's your son! How could you lay a hand on him like that? Isn't your whole village supposed to be backward and superstitious? Have you ever thought about who will perform the funeral rites for you when you die?"

"If you beat him to death now, who's going to bury you when you're old? If you don't want him as your son, stop dragging him back every time he leaves! You bring him home, only to treat him like an animal. You're a fucking disgrace!"

Like me, Stewart couldn't understand why Dad wanted me dead yet refused to let me leave.

The police also kept pressing Dad for an explanation.

An eerily cold laugh escaped Dad.

"If you want to know why, follow me to the chapel. But only female officers can go in. Male officers aren't allowed. It'd break our rules and anger our ancestors."

Stewart scoffed.

"Don't give me that crap about your ancestors being angry. Look at what you've done to him! Those injuries are the result of deliberate assault! I'm taking you to the police station and filing a complaint against you!"

Dad ignored him completely and simply waited for the police to make their decision.

The officers were reluctant to violate a local custom they didn't understand, so in the end, they sent two female officers inside with Dad.

I threw myself in front of them, repeatedly begging them.

"Please, don't go in. I'm begging you, just don't! I don't know what's inside, but every woman who's gone in has come out wanting to kill me. There must be something wrong in there!"

One of the female officers bent down and reassured me.

"Don't worry. We're officers. We don't believe in superstitions. Once we find out what's really going on, we'll get you out of this."

I watched them disappear inside, terror spreading through my entire body.

The other officers held me back, so there was nothing I could do to stop them.

Ten minutes later, the two female officers came back out with grim faces.

They slapped me hard across the face twice.

One of them even raised a hand to hit me again, but stopped herself at the last second.

"If I weren't a police officer, I'd kill you myself!"

Stewart was stunned and stepped forward to demand an explanation, so one of the female officers pulled him aside and whispered something to him.

Stewart, who had always stood by me no matter what, came back and stomped down on my leg.

There was a sickening crack, and my thigh snapped.

As I screamed in agony, Stewart glared at me and threatened, "You piece of shit, you're going to die sooner or later! Stop calling the police and wasting their time! You don't deserve their help!"

The officers who hadn't gone inside exchanged confused looks.

The female officers glared at me.

"Don't make any more false reports, or you'll be held legally responsible. We're leaving. This is a family matter. It's not our place to get involved."

"But he looks like he's about to be beaten to death…"

The male officers looked at me with pity, but the female officers dragged him away.

They had barely gone a few steps when the female officers whispered something to the others.

The same officers who had been feeling sorry for me just moments ago suddenly looked like they wanted to turn around and beat me themselves.

By then, I had lost all hope.

I lay on the ground, too broken to move.

Dad threw me into the pigpen.

It was the place I feared most.

I could barely move, and with all the wounds covering my body, the pigs saw me as nothing more than easy prey.

They kept crowding around me and climbing on top of me.

Several times, they tried to bite me, and I barely managed to fight them off.

For three whole days, I lived in that pigpen with them.

I was fed nothing but pig feed.

By the time it was over, my body was marred by pig bites.

Without any treatment, the wounds became badly infected.

The stench of rotting flesh was so strong one could smell it without even getting close.

When Bryan, Claude, and their wives came home, Dad finally took pity on me and let me out.

When they saw what I looked like, they were obviously disgusted.

I fetched some water and washed myself, then did what little I could to clean and treat my wounds.