[40 Days of Torture] (A poignant story of foot abuse)

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40 Days of Tortured Love (Part 1)

I am a 22-year-old girl with a happy family. My father is a high-ranking official in the municipal tax bureau, my mother
is a teacher, and I am a top student from a prestigious university. I grew up in my parents' arms, and
they cherished me like a precious jewel because I was very beautiful. I had a round face with cartoonish eyes,
stood 1.68 meters tall, had fair skin, long legs, and delicate, boneless feet—truly like an angel
. I loved my parents and was afraid they would get hurt, so I never caused them
any worry. Unfortunately, our happy family was shattered in a car accident. My father
died in the accident, and his best friend falsely accused him of accepting bribes. My father, who had lived an innocent life,
was branded a corrupt official after his death. My mother collapsed from exhaustion due to my father's lawsuit and was diagnosed with a terminal illness.
Facing the prospect of losing both my parents, I cried, cried for a very long time. I couldn't save my last remaining loved one;
my family simply couldn't afford the exorbitant medical bills. Looking at my mother's haggard face, I
felt an indescribable . I thought that if it meant giving everything I had to save her, it would be worth it. During
a chance encounter online, I found him.

I'm a 24-year-old man from an unhappy family. My parents run a large business overseas,
providing me with ample living expenses and material comforts. However, having never experienced parental care since childhood, my heart
is filled with loneliness and pain. My parents also love me because I'm handsome, with a high nose and large, almost mixed
-race-like eyes. I'm 1.83 meters tall and robust. Yet, I've never truly appreciated their love. In my long loneliness, my mindset changed. I began to hate the world, and even more so , I hated children with happy families. Because of this prolonged loneliness, I sought pleasure online. I gradually became addicted to BDSM. I felt that binding, torturing, and abusing women allowed me to vent my anger. I bought a lot of sadomasochistic toys, fantasizing about one day owning my own female sex doll. Excessive exposure to SM and the distorted influence of my mind made me cruel. I enjoyed bloody violence; it excited me. Finally , I chose to search for my dream doll online. Not long after, I met her. 　　I saw her post and knew she desperately needed me. I met her; she wasn't as ugly as I had imagined. We discussed terms, and I was tempted by the offer of one million; I needed the money. I made a deal with her to be her sex slave for 40 days. Forty days to restore my mother's health seemed worthwhile. Actually, I knew nothing about SM, let alone what a sex slave was. I signed the contract without reading it; I felt it was a blessing from heaven. I knew the money would be enough to pay for my mother's medical expenses. 　　I saw her reply and met her; she wasn't as sordid as I had imagined. I knew she was a university student and desperately needed money. She had lived in her parents' arms since childhood, so happy and obedient. Thanks to her higher education, she had never been in love and retained her virginity. All of this filled me with jealousy and joy, because this beautiful girl before me was the object of my dreams. I could fully abuse her to vent the world's injustice towards me. Fearing losing her, I offered my maximum payment: one million. This was half a year's living expenses, nothing to me, because I felt it was worth it. But such a large sum of money was excessive. When I wrote down all the bloody things I wanted to do. But strangely, she signed it without even reading it. It showed how much she needed the money. I never thought money could buy everything in this world, even life. I told her to come to my place the next day to "work." The next day, I arrived at her residence. It was a very large villa in the suburbs . Although my family had been relatively well-off, this was the first time I had ever seen such a large villa. I knocked on the door and saw him; his attitude was completely different from yesterday. That's normal. I took their money; they can do whatever they want. After all, I sold myself to them for 40 days. Watching him close the door, I felt like I was truly heading towards ruin; that door seemed like the gates of hell. His first words to me today were to take off all my clothes. I didn't hesitate, because for these 40 days, my soul no longer belonged to me. Seeing my body exposed to a stranger , I felt incredibly ashamed. Since I was old enough to understand, only I could see my body; I wouldn't let my parents or classmates see it, because it was my only privacy in this world. Maybe that's what you call naiveté. But now, this world leaves me with no choice. I tried to think about that million, hoping it would calm me down. 　　The next day, she came to my place. I thought that when she saw my villa, she would know I could pay that million. 　　She knocked on the door, and I didn't give her a friendly look. Because after paying a million, I couldn't give her a friendly look; otherwise, the money would be wasted. Since she took my money, she should listen to me, because I had already bought her soul and body. The moment I closed the door, I wanted her to know that this was about to begin. Ordering her to take off her clothes was just the first step in the game. I thought she wouldn't hesitate, because she'd taken my money. When I finally saw her completely, I was truly stunned. Her body was so perfect, without a single scar or birthmark, truly like jade. Her fully developed breasts were slightly upturned, and her sparse pubic hair concealed the pillars of her soul. Her long legs were tightly pressed together, her jade-like feet resting on the floor, awaiting my domination. 　　I saw her toes, painted with pink nail polish, scratching at the ground, and I knew she must be feeling very complicated and shy. But I was truly excited, because I finally had someone to vent on. He was searching for something in a large box . I guessed he wouldn't be looking for me a cold drink, because I wasn't worthy anymore. Looking at what he took out, I knew what he was going to do. He came to my side and told me to turn around. I crossed my arms behind my back, waiting for him to tie me up. Actually, he just wanted to bind me; even without binding me, I wouldn't leave. Because my work wasn't finished, he started tying me up, the rough hemp rope weaving his dream back and forth across my upper body . It really hurt, I don't know if it was the friction of the rope against my upper body that caused the pain.

I was heartbroken to be at his mercy. He bound me so tightly that it was hard to breathe, followed by
numbness. After my upper body was bound like a dumpling, he placed a pair of
shackles, on my ankles. He taped my mouth shut and put a leather collar around my neck.
Then he chained me to the collar and led me to the bathroom like a dog. He ordered me to sit on the edge of
the bathtub and spread my legs as wide as possible. I know I couldn't do it well because of the shackles.
Watching him squat between my legs with a razor blade, I was terrified, afraid he would hurt me
. Tears welled up and fell. He wanted to shave my pubic hair, and I knew from his posture that he wasn't
a qualified hairdresser. He cut my pubic area many times with the blade, and seeing the bleeding, he
just disinfected it with alcohol. I closed my eyes, and when the alcohol stung again, I knew he
had cut my pubic area again. When the pain subsided after a long time, I knew my pubic area was hairless. He
was very generous, giving me a pair of earrings, but he didn't put them on. Instead, he pierced my
nipples —those should be called nipple rings, right? The two nipple rings were exquisite; given his budget, they were probably made of gold.
I won't easily remove them. If my mother needs money for her illness, I'll remove them to
raise funds . I searched the box for some simple restraints. I wouldn't
serve her a cup of milk tea like a guest, because she didn't deserve it. Holding the rope and shackles, I looked into her eyes, knowing
she must be terrified. I ordered her to put her hands behind her back, and she obeyed. This gave me ample opportunity to
display my rope bondage skills.

I don't know how many times I wrapped the ropes around her upper body, or whether it was a Japanese or Western binding method,
but I used them all, because I wanted to wrap all my dreams of the past years around her body. I specially made a pair of shackles for her
, because I knew her ankles were very thin. Actually, whether I gagged her or not made no difference. I knew she
wouldn't beg for mercy, much less ask anyone for help. Only when I finally put the collar on her and led her to
the bathroom did I realize I truly had a very obedient female dog. I commanded her to spread her legs,
and seeing how seriously she did it, I knew the shackles restricted her, so I didn't blame her.
Honestly, I really don't know how to shave body hair; I didn't expect it to be so difficult. Seeing tears in her eyes,
I was certain what I had done was right, and it had dealt her a heavy blow. Every
time I cut her genitals, I felt guilty; I should have gone to a shaving school. Afraid she might get infected from
the cuts , I used household rubbing alcohol to clean her wounds. She must have been in a lot of pain, but this
was just a warm-up compared to the pain to come. I had gone to great lengths for her, ordering a pair of custom-made gold nipple rings. They must have weighed at least
twenty grams. When I pierced her nipples with the steel awl, a lot of blood flowed, and I was really excited; I thought
she would like this gift I gave her. He didn't make things difficult for me that night; he just led me
around the house, walking up and down the stairs repeatedly. Eventually, when that got boring, he took me to the yard.
This was the first time in my life I'd been outdoors naked like a primitive. My bare feet felt nice on the soft
soil . Sometimes, though, something would prick the soles of my feet, which hurt quite a bit.
And some things would take several steps to dislodge. My biggest fear now is being seen,
but I don't need to worry because there are no outsiders here. I wonder what those rich people do all day
. When everyone was tired, he led me back to the room and placed a bowl in a corner. It contained
rice and vegetables mixed together like pig feed. I was really hungry. I hadn't eaten lunch, and then there was
all that . I didn't care about my status and crawled over the bowl, struggling to eat this "
evolved" food with my tongue and mouth. After the meal, he led me back to the bathroom and washed me. I occasionally noticed
slight scratches on the soles of her feet, probably from stepping on them in the yard earlier. It's alright, it doesn't hurt much. That night,
I fell asleep in the cage he had specially designed for me. I didn't intend to torture her to the point of death right away; I
wanted her to get used to it first. I put on shoes and led my slave around the house. But the house
was rather dull, so I decided to go outside. I didn't put shoes on her, because female slaves aren't allowed
to wear shoes. Actually, my real purpose was to see her delicate, white feet walking barefoot outdoors. I led her around the yard
, and hmm! It felt great, better than the neighbors. They were just walking pedigree dogs. I was
leading a living person, no! My beloved dog. Every few steps, her body would twist slightly; I
guess her feet must have stepped on something.

I know this place used to be a private steel factory, but the government wouldn't allow them to operate there,
so they all moved away. The developers didn't clear the land when they built it. So there's probably still a lot of
scrap metal mixed in with the dirt. I like girls' delicate feet, and I especially like seeing their feet injured and bleeding. Since
I like them, she should satisfy me. I've been walking for a long time
,

and I'm really tired. I'll go back and prepare some food for my beloved slave. I had her stand in a corner of the house and wait for me while I went into the kitchen. My kitchen was a mess.
There wasn't much to eat. I found some leftovers from the day before yesterday in a corner, so I poured them into
a bowl. They looked very stale, and I thought she wouldn't eat them like that. I stirred them
up can't tell when food was made after stirring it. I'm quite experienced at this.
I brought it to her, deliberately telling her to eat like a dog, and I stood behind her. Looking at her upturned
buttocks and her mud-covered feet, I was so excited, and my lower body involuntarily stiffened. She ate
with relish, like a disaster victim from Indonesia, and finished in no time. Seeing the rice grains all over her face, I
knew I needed to wash her. I led her to the bathroom and rinsed every inch of her body with water again and again.
Seeing the several scratches on the soles of her feet, I was certain my judgment was correct. (

40 Days of Torture - Part 2)

Because I was very tired today, after washing her, I led her to a cage that had been custom-made for her. The cage
was very sturdy, made of steel bars, with a concrete slab bottom. It was cold in both winter and summer. Watching her sleep soundly...
Seeing her like that, I didn't disturb her anymore. I told her to rest well. Tomorrow I'll start my game.
When I woke up, it was already dawn. I felt very uncomfortable, probably because of my sleeping position. Who
sleeps curled up in a ball all night? I felt like I really needed to go to the toilet, it's my habit. But my mouth was
taped shut, and I was trapped in this small cage. How could I go? I made a whimpering sound to
tell her I needed to go to the toilet. This trick worked, and he, who was sleeping on the bed next to me, woke up after a while. He knew
what I wanted to do, opened the cage, and pulled me to the toilet. After I finished, I felt completely relaxed, even though there
was someone standing in front of me while I was relieving myself. I crawled and ate breakfast, and he washed my face and took care of
me. I was very grateful.

Then he led me to a room. The room was very empty, without any furniture. There were
many pulleys and iron rings on the ceiling, and some shackles and whips on the walls. He ordered me to stand in the middle of the house, then he
threaded a thin hemp rope through my two nipple rings and connected it to the iron ring that had fallen above. The iron ring immediately
rose , pulling my body up. My nipples instantly felt excruciating pain. I whimpered and cried
for help. He brought a small chair and placed it under my feet, giving my legs something to support them,
freeing my breasts. In that short time, my breasts had turned purple from being pulled so much; I was terrified.
I almost couldn't breastfeed my offspring anymore. He came in front of me, unlocked my shackles,
and then inserted something that looked like a male genital organ into my vagina. I was a virgin,
and it wasn't easy for that thing to fit. He used all his strength to finally insert it somewhere inside my body;
I felt a sharp pain in my vagina from the support. He then bound my thighs, calves, and ankles with rope.
My legs had no room to move, but that wasn't all. He also bound my two big toes
. I'm completely numb now. The ropes binding my upper body haven't been untied since yesterday noon.
My lower body is also bound. Add to that the thing in my vagina, and the pain is indescribable. I
try to distract myself by thinking about the million dollars, about my sick mother in bed. Maybe that will
lessen the pain a little. He took the small chair from my feet and replaced it with a basketball.
I can only touch the basketball with the balls of my feet. My toes grip the basketball tightly, afraid it will roll away. If that happens,
my nipples will really fall off. While my thoughts are still on my toes and the basketball, the whip strikes my buttocks
. I can't turn around, but I know this strike will leave a mark on my buttocks. And so,
the whip lashes my entire body, my genitals, my thighs, my abdomen, my chest. I don't move, because I
dare not move. If I move, the basketball under my feet will take away my nipples. I just let him lash me mercilessly. He
got tired of beating me, so he walked up to me and lit a cigarette, smoking as he looked at my bruised body.
I began to understand what sexual sadism was, what hell on earth was. But for my mother's sake, I would try my best to satisfy him
, as long as I had a breath left. I would endure it for 40 days. He walked up to me, still smoking,
and then squatted down to examine my feet closely. I didn't know why he liked looking at my feet so much, but I had a bad
feeling. He crushed the unextinguished cigarette butt on my toes. The heat of the cigarette made my toes jerk
violently , the basketball rolled away, and I was left hanging in mid-air. My nipples were pulled up again. Ugh... Ugh... I
desperately cried for help, begging him to help me. He put down the pulley, and I fell to the ground. Looking at my bruised body,
he didn't untie me but just threw me into the bathtub. To wash me, he even pricked the blisters on my toes with
a needle . That night, I slept in the bathtub; he didn't soak me in water. Instead,
I drained the water. That night, I thought about myself, and about my mother. I cried; I didn't know if it was right or
wrong. When I reluctantly woke up, it was already dawn. I felt very uncomfortable, probably because I hadn't slept enough.
She woke me up; I knew she must have needed to use the toilet. I didn't let her
relieve herself because I like things clean. After she finished, I prepared breakfast for her. It was fresh; I
made it that morning. After she finished eating, I led her to my private torture chamber, a very spacious
room. I used hemp rope to thread her two nipple rings together and pulled them upwards,
connecting . At that moment, her nipples almost fell off from the strain. Afraid something might happen, I placed
a small chair under her feet. To be honest, inserting the fake penis into her vagina was really difficult; it took me a lot of effort to get it in.
Afraid it wouldn't stay in, I tied her thighs, calves, and ankles with rope to secure
it. Tying her two big toes together was just a personal hobby; I figured it wouldn't be
fun . Then I remembered how interesting it would be if she had a basketball under her feet. I replaced the chair under her feet with
a basketball, and she didn't seem as comfortable as before. After all, a basketball isn't as stable as a chair, and she could only
grip , afraid it would roll away. I was really proud of my move. The thought of whipping her
immediately came to mind, to see if she would forget about her nipples while trying to dodge my whip. To my surprise, she
didn't move an inch. It was as if my whip was striking someone else. I increased the force, but she still didn't move.
I admired her willpower. I was really tired; I'd better have a smoke and admire my masterpiece. Looking at the whip marks
all over her body , I felt a little sorry for her. I walked to her side and saw tears welling up in her eyes. I thought
if she just whimpered and told me she couldn't take it anymore, maybe I'd consider letting her go. But her stubbornness
really infuriated me. I knelt down to admire her beautiful feet. They were truly stunning. Her fair skin was so translucent,
almost transparent. Just then, another idea struck me, so I picked up the nearly lit cigarette butt and used it to burn
her toes. She reacted strongly, her toes immediately pulling back. I thought that if her toes hadn't been tied
together , she wouldn't have fallen off, and the basketball would have rolled away. My weight was now on her nipples,
and I was afraid something might happen. So I put her down. Looking at her scars and the urine that had seeped out, I knew she had
lost control of her bladder from the shock. She probably hadn't even realized it yet. I carried her to the bathtub and washed her.
I noticed a blister on the base of her left big toe from the burn; it didn't look good. So I used a needle...
I pierced it, leaving a circular scar. I figured she couldn't go back
to her little house with that thing stuck in her vagina, so I let her sleep in the bathtub. I drained the water to prevent her from getting sore overnight.

When I woke up, all the ropes binding my body were untied, and the duct tape was gone, replaced by
handcuffs and shackles. My hands were held in front of me. Looking at my wounds, I felt a pang of
heartache. He brought a broom and mop, ordering me to clean his house. Compared to his cruelty, this labor
was nothing. In the afternoon, he called me to his side and made me kneel, because he wanted to talk. I told
him about my past and why I needed so much money. He listened intently, but I could tell his mind was
racing. He also shared his feelings with me. When I told him his parents loved him, he got angry
, slapped me, and left. The day passed simply and quickly. I hoped such days could
continue. That night, I slept in my cage again. When I woke up, I found the house
a complete mess from my games over the past few days. I went to the bathroom, untied her ropes, and put
shackles on her. I didn't cuff her hands behind her back because I wanted her to do chores for me. She
cleaned the house very thoroughly that morning; she was clearly a hardworking girl. In the afternoon, I called her to my side and
chatted with her. After hearing her past stories, I felt sorry for her. But thinking about her parents
' love for her, I felt a surge of anger. I told her my story, and she listened intently. I
just wanted her to comfort me and curse my parents for me, but she didn't. Instead, she said my parents
loved me. I couldn't suppress my anger any longer and slapped her. Because she had hurt me deeply.
I ignored her all day and couldn't be bothered to see her. I hated her. I thought I never wanted to talk to her again;
today was a complete failure. In the days that followed, he subjected me to severe torture every day, subjecting my genitals, breasts, and
anus to repeated torment. This left me with many scars that would never fully heal. I remember one time he
wanted to play a game of "Sun Wukong crossing a volcano," which is the most unforgettable. He hammered two wooden stakes
far . Then he connected the
two stakes with a thick hemp rope. He ordered me to straddle them, and the thick rope got caught between my labia. He tied my hands behind my back, crossed them, and then
wrapped another rope around my neck, tying the remaining rope to my hands in a knot. This created a resistance between my
hands and neck, making it most comfortable to arch my chest. Those familiar shackles then
gripped my ankles. Not satisfied with this, he used a shovel to lower the path I was about to walk on
, forcing me to only touch the ground with the balls of my feet. He then buried countless candles in this small pit. He
told me to wait until evening to begin. I waited quietly on the rope for
our game. Night fell quickly, and the sun seemed eager to see my performance. He turned on the atomic lamp,
poured gasoline on the rope, and then lit the candle. He sat down beside me, smoking, and told me
I could start walking. Before me was a path of fire, and I understood what it meant to be like Sun Wukong crossing a volcano. I didn't hesitate,
because my mother, in her hospital bed, wouldn't allow me to. I took large strides, thinking I could finish
the journey , but I was wrong. When my feet touched the candle and the fire on the rope, I
couldn't move at all; my body simply couldn't withstand the pain of the flames. I walked with difficulty, step by step, and because of
the shackles, I basically extinguished all the candles I passed—it really hurt. My genitals weren't much better;
black smoke still emanated from the rope extinguished by my labia. I didn't beg him for mercy; it would have been useless, only exciting him more
. My eyes were fixed on the distance, as if I could see my mother recovering day by day. Watching
her I felt like I was back in the past, back in my parents' arms—those were such happy days. I didn't stop
; taking advantage of this distraction, I thought I could finish this journey. In the following days, I subjected
her to severe torture every day, as revenge for her words. After several days, her genitals, breasts, and anus were covered in
indelible scars. I remember the most exciting time was when we played the Monkey King crossing a volcano. I nailed
two wooden stakes into the yard and connected them with a thick hemp rope. I had her straddle them, and the rope fit perfectly between
her labia. I connected her hands to her neck to make her lift her chest; I thought that was
beautiful . But I felt it wasn't enough, so I dug a small trench under her feet with a shovel so she could stand on
her tiptoes. I think women look beautiful standing on their tiptoes; that's the purpose of high heels. The candles were
something , because it was a volcano crossing. There should be fire under her feet, right? Everything was ready; all that
was left was the arrival of night. Summer nights come slowly, and I waited a long time. I
turned on the yard lights, thinking it would make things clearer. I poured gasoline on the rope, then lit the gasoline and
candles. Hmm! Everything was so ingenious, but then it began. At first, I thought she wouldn't leave, because it
was just too painful. Even if she didn't leave, I would still pay for her. But she surprised me; she left.
Her genitals extinguished the flames on the rope, or perhaps her urine extinguished them. Her feet,
restrained , stomped out all the candles. I could clearly see her feet lift up;
they were so black, like they were burnt. I could hear a sizzling sound, like teppanyaki,
followed by the smell of burning food. Watching her walk forward like a piece of wood, I wondered if her
soul was still there. In the end, she really did finish the journey. I think she didn't know the answer,
because she fainted afterward. I carried her back to the room, cleaned her body, and applied burn ointment.
I thought maybe it would help and prevent her wounds from festering. After that, I rested for a few days, and he said
those days were a gift to me. I was very grateful for his generosity. After the pain from my injuries subsided, I
only did simple housework every day. Since my hands weren't injured, the laundry and cooking all fell
to me. More than 30 days passed in a flash, and I was about to get through it. But misfortune never comes singly. I received a message from
the hospital saying that my mother's medical expenses were insufficient. They needed a lot more money. This was a huge blow to me.
What should I do? I thought the only option was to renew my contract with him. I found him and told him what had happened, but he didn't answer.
He said he should renew my contract. He told me there was another way to resolve this, and I pressed him for
details . He only told me that he would give me money if I played the game with him. I didn't refuse. I thought, "I've already
overcome a volcano, what else could I be afraid of?" After that, I let her rest for a few days; I thought if things continued like this, someone would surely
die . She was still happy with my care, washing my clothes and cooking for me. Her cooking skills were quite
good. But just when I thought the game was about to end, she told me about her mother. What should I
do? I could generously give her money, but that would violate the rules of the game. So, since our relationship
was only about the game, I decided to continue it to the end. That was our last day together. He called me into
a room. I didn't hesitate, because today's game would bring my mother a cure. He
handcuffed my hands behind my back, and the shackles on my feet were still there. He brought a case of beer bottles, then
smashed them, scattering them in every corner of the room. He told me to walk on it, and he
would . I thought the game was fair enough; I could choose not to walk if I was afraid of getting hurt.
I didn't back down, because the money wouldn't let me. I walked. The sting of the glass under my feet was
evident in the blood that flowed down my path. After living with him for over a month, I knew him too well. I
knew what he liked, what he loved to watch. I stomped on the glass as hard as I could, trying to make my feet bleed as much as possible,
thinking he would keep his promise. Every step I took carried away a piece of glass, which would then
fall down after a few steps. I really wanted all the glass to stick to my feet, but the surface area of my feet was too small
to hold much glass. Seeing the way he looked at my bleeding feet, I knew he was very satisfied. He told
me that if I could walk on tiptoe, he would give me 5,000 yuan for every step. I didn't let this opportunity pass me by.
Although tiny shards of glass were embedded in my toes, I still forced myself to continue performing for him. Finally, I
couldn't walk anymore and collapsed amidst the broken glass. Looking at my bloodied and mangled feet, I felt my mother could be saved
. That was our last day together. I called her into an empty room. I handcuffed her hands
behind her back; the shackles on her feet had been with her for a long time. I brought a case of beer bottles,
smashed used a small hammer to shatter them into near-fragmentation, scattering the fragments throughout the room. I explained
the rules of the game to her; I knew she wouldn't refuse. Watching the shards of glass pierce her delicate feet, drawing so much
blood, I felt truly excited. She seemed to understand my preferences; watching her forcefully embed the shards
completely into the soles of her feet, I understood everything about her. Since I was going to stomp on her anyway, I decided to minimize her
pain. I knew she must have been stomping for her mother for a long time. I told her that stomping on the money with her toes would
yield more . After hearing that, she immediately stood on tiptoe to step on the

broken glass. Finally, she collapsed from exhaustion, falling amidst the shards. Watching her taut feet, blood dripping
from them , I was completely mesmerized. I don't know how many times she stepped on the glass, but I know it
couldn't be settled for a few hundred thousand. I think her goal was simply to save her mother. I'm willing to fulfill her wish, just as she
fulfilled mine. Even if it requires a lot of money, I'll do it. My feet, covered in shards of glass, made it impossible for me to
move . He carried me to the room where we first played. To play our last game,
he bound my hands and feet tightly with rope, and even tied my neck, connecting it to a pulley on
the ceiling , as if to strangle me. He still placed the basketball under my feet,
telling me he was going to the hospital to deliver money, and that I should wait for him while standing on the basketball. He said that if I could hold on until he returned, I
would see my mother recovered. That was my dream, and I was willing to wait for him, and for my dream. Her feet, riddled with shards of glass
, were impossible to move. I picked her up and carried her to the room where we first played games;
I wanted to play one last game with her. I tied her hands and feet tightly with rope, then connected her neck to a pulley on the ceiling with
a hemp rope. She thought I was going to strangle her—how could I? That
's illegal. I still placed a basketball under her feet. I told her I was going to the hospital to deliver money and asked her to wait for me on the basketball, just like
last time . This time, I didn't let her support her weight on the balls of her feet; I thought it wouldn't be stable.
Watching her feet firmly planted on the basketball, her toes gripping it tightly, I knew she would wait for me to return.
Because she wanted to see her mother. He left, taking my hope with him. My eyes were filled with hope, because I
could see my recovered mother, but things weren't as simple as I imagined. Because the soles of my feet were riddled with
shards of glass, they had pierced into my feet and the basketball as well. I could feel the basketball under my feet getting smaller,
softer with each step. I carefully supported the basketball with the balls of my feet to minimize its damage. But my feet were covered in
glass , even inside my toes. It was completely useless. I could hear the hissing sound of the air being released. I waited for
it to come back, and slowly, the balls of my feet could barely touch the basketball. Then my toes,
and finally as my big toe left the surface of the basketball, I saw my mother, her consciousness fading further and further away.

I left, taking her hope with me. I knew she was full of hope because she would soon see
her mother. That basketball game, which had once been whipped and burned with cigarettes, meant nothing to her. I
went to the hospital, paid the bills, and saw her mother. Her mother looked quite well.
Without lingering, I drove home. When I returned to that house, I cried. It was
the first time I had ever cried. Her body swayed in the air, her legs stretched straight but unable to touch the ground. Drops of blood from her toes
dripped onto the deflated basketball. Only the air was still. I had taken away her
hope, taken away her life. All that awaits me is the punishment of the law, but I will not back down,
nor will I back down for her sake.

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