Try Begging - Chapter 137.2
[ ” Is that even possible? Johnny insists that if we just hide it well and teach the child properly, it would be enough.
Though to my ears, that sounds like ‘brainwashing.’
It’s pitiful. I thought the child would make more friends at school. The leadership was wary of the child stepping out of control. ‘Before it’s complete,’ they said, the child shouldn’t be influenced by inappropriate information from outsiders, so they never allowed her to attend a real school.
To think of this small child as some sort of secret weapon is utterly ridiculous.
In the end, the monsters weren’t the child but them.” ]
[ “I never want my children to know about what I do. Especially Grace. I’m worried she might come to see it as just something women do in the revolution if she finds out too early. I wish she were a boy. Or at least ugly.” ]
[ “When will they stop keeping an eleven-year-old child cooped up in the village?
I insisted on bringing Grace along for this mission, arguing she should see the outside world, too. They questioned what use a fool who doesn’t even know how to ride a train would be.
This time, my persuasion worked. Yet, seeing her excited for her first trip, unaware of anything, makes me uncomfortable.
Truthfully, I wish she would just disappear… that some kind-hearted family vacationing in Abington Beach would take her away. I’m growing increasingly anxious, feeling she might end up with a fate similar to mine.” ]
[ “Taking her to Abbington Beach was a mistake. I never anticipated it would turn out like this.
Grace has changed. Blindly. She now looks at me with the same gaze I had when I first set foot here, following the monster named Jonathan Riddle. It’s suffocating.” ]
[ “…I might be no different from a monster now.
My face in the mirror, slathered with makeup, couldn’t look any uglier.
It seems Blanchard has finally told his son about what I do. The boy looked at me so strangely today that it made my skin crawl.
I’m terrified of my children finding out. What would they think of me then?” ]
[ “Grace is only fourteen. Yet, that devil took her on a mission and had her shoot people. While she was away, Johnny got drunk and laughed triumphantly, saying a pig killed another pig.
Disgusting.” ]
[ “Please, Grace. That guy will never be a good man.” ]
[ “D*mn it. Johnny gave Grace lipstick for her birthday. The kind of bright red lipstick a harlot would wear. I’ll kill him.” ]
[ “That devil is finally dead! Hahahahahahahahaha!” ]
Thud.
She couldn’t read any further and closed the diary.
“Yes, I felt the same way when I first read that diary.”
Grace struggled to lift her head.
Standing in the doorway, blown by the cold wind, Joe harshly flicked his cigarette butt to the ground and stamped it out.
Staring blankly into space, she suddenly stood up.
She didn’t even know why she got up so abruptly. Rubbing her goosebump-ridden arms and suddenly feeling nauseous, she clutched her mouth, then cradled her contorting face with both hands, pacing in front of the table like she was lost.
Too many emotions were crashing into her all at once, canceling each other out, leaving her feeling numb. Her rational mind was the first to return.
Grace picked up the diary and extended it towards her brother, her hand shaking vividly.
“When, when did you know?”
“Which one?”
He asked back, smiling bitterly.
“When I was five years old, I found out you weren’t father’s child. I still remember it. I asked which crayon to use for your one-year-old eyes, and the house turned upside down.”
Joe sighed deeply, then closed the door and came inside.
“The adults said keeping it a secret was for your own good, to prevent you from getting hurt. But then…”
Joe snorted in disbelief.
“I had no idea such a dark purpose was behind it all.”
“So, when did you learn about all this?”
“Your role, mother’s role… I found out about all of it when sorting through mother’s belongings and discovering her diary.”
Her brother took another step closer, roughly rubbing his cheek with one hand as he stared at Grace as if he was about to say a difficult subject.
“Grace, I’m sorry for only telling you now, but mother didn’t die on a mission.”
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