Part 1The Wicked Father

Frank despised Mia for being a stay-at-home mom who only knew how to ask him for money. To prevent me from becoming like her, he decided to train 6-year-old me to earn money and support the family.

When the neighbor's kid became a child model, I tried too. Despite being dressed up like a prince, I was politely told I wasn't cute or clever enough.

When a friend's child won an essay contest, I entered too. After chewing through three pencils, all I got was a certificate saying "Keep trying!"

Frank beat Mia viciously. "The child you gave birth to is just like you - ugly and stupid."

I stood in front of Mom, feeling guilty and heartbroken. It was all my fault for making her suffer.

I dropped out of school early to become the cheapest labor. I handed over all my wages, but by age 25, I had secretly saved up $10,000. I could finally take Mom away.

My hands trembled as I tried to give Mom the bank card, when Frank suddenly burst in, his face twisted with rage.

I tried to pull Mom away to escape, but she shoved me down instead. She proudly presented my wages to Frank.

"Honey, beat this ungrateful brat to death. He not only hid money but dared to persuade me to divorce you."

I was beaten to death. Frank got off with a light sentence for manslaughter plus a letter of forgiveness. He was out in less than a year.

I found myself back in time to when I first dropped out of school. Frank was viciously beating Mia again, berating her for giving birth to an ugly, stupid child just like her.

Frank was a fitness trainer and former boxer. Mia was very supportive of his work and often sparred with him.

At that moment, Mia lay sprawled on the floor, her neck craned stubbornly. Frank's fist connected with a sickening crunch. Her piercing screams filled the air.

Jason lounged on the sofa, munching chips and watching with interest. He occasionally offered commentary.

"Not hard enough."

"Not fast enough."

I staggered to my feet, having just been thrown across the room for trying to shield Mom. My head was still ringing.

As the scene before me came into focus, I suddenly realized I had been reborn.

Mom's increasingly agonized screams snapped me out of my daze.

Frank was 6 feet tall and 250 pounds of solid muscle. His hammer-like fists rained down on Mom with increasing speed and force. She was soon covered in blood.

I couldn't help but laugh coldly inside. It seemed Frank was getting carried away with his performance, hurling insults at Mom and me non-stop.

In my past life, whenever Frank raised his hand to hit Mom, I would immediately give in to any demand. It worked better than if he beat me. But the one time it involved my education, I refused to back down. So Mom volunteered to take the beating for me. In the end, I still gave in.

But in this life, apart from hatred, I no longer harbored any illusions about family. I just wanted to live for myself.

I could never forget how in my past life, after the violence ended, Mom would always wipe away my tears with her bruised face. She would say tenderly:

"Lucas, don't worry. This is just how your father shows his love for me."

I always thought Mom was just trying to comfort me. It wasn't until my final moments that I realized she truly meant it.

Mom loved it. The more he beat her, the more she loved him.

As a filial child, I naturally couldn't interfere with their love.

I remained motionless. Frank's blows grew increasingly vicious as he incorporated his boxing techniques.

Mom soon coughed up a mouthful of blood. Jason giggled with glee, calling it spectacular.

"Lucas, save Mommy! I'm doing this all for you."

But even three of me combined weren't as thick as Frank's arm. I cowered in the corner, looking utterly terrified.

Blood pooled on the floor but she still didn't get what she wanted. Mom finally started begging for mercy, but Frank was too worked up to stop. He grew more and more excited.

"Mom, should I call the police?"

Frank suddenly snapped out of it.

Mom no longer looked on the verge of death. She wiped the blood from her face with her sleeve.

"Your father was just playing around with me."

Under three scrutinizing gazes, I walked straight to the bedroom. I paused at the door. There was one point in Frank's frenzied rant that I disagreed with.

"Dad, don't you know - like father, like son?"

All the insults he had hurled at me instantly reflected back onto Frank.

The bedroom door slammed shut with a bang, leaving the three of them staring at each other in bewilderment.

I lay down on the bed. Within seconds, I heard the doorknob being frantically twisted and curses flying. I rolled over, ignoring it.

My lack of security had long ago made me develop the habit of locking the door.

Everything finally quieted down, but I was far from calm. In a moment of impulse, I had provoked Frank. All that awaited me now were even more severe consequences.

Suddenly, the sound of keys jingling came from outside the door.

***This is the breakpoint***