Three days after the social worker's visit, Margo finally plucked up her courage.
She stole that business card from her stepfather's coat pocket. He had stuffed it there carelessly, likely assuming she wouldn't dare touch it. While he was showering, Margo crept into the living room and fished the card out of the pocket.
The card was white with black text: Community Child Welfare Center — Yamada Akemi, followed by a string of numbers.
Margo gripped the card tightly in her palm, which was slick with sweat. She ran back to her room, closed the door, sat on the edge of her bed, and stared at it for a long ti.
Should she call?
If she did, would the social worker truly help her?
If she did and her stepfather found out, what would happen?
Margo rembered what he had said while pinching her chin: "You know the consequences."
But... what if she didn't call?
If she didn't, she would have to live like this forever. She didn't want that.
Margo closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
The next day after school, Margo did not go straight ho. She walked to a public phone booth near the school and took out the business card along with a 100-yen coin she had saved up for a long ti. She picked up the receiver, inserted the coin, and pressed the numbers on the card one by one.
Beep— Beep— Beep—
Every tone of the dial signal made her heart beat faster.
"Hello, Community Child Welfare Center." A woman's voice answered—it was the social worker who had co to the house, Yamada Akemi.
"I... I am Houshou Margo." Margo's voice was so small it was almost inaudible.
There was a silence on the other end.
"Margo? Is this the child I t the day before yesterday?"
"Yes."
"What's wrong? Did sothing happen?"
Margo bit her lip, not knowing how to say it. She looked outside the booth at the people passing by on the street. No one noticed that inside this tiny glass box, a six-year-old girl was crying out for help.
"I... I want..." Margo's voice was trembling. "I want to ask you to help ."
"Help you with what?" Yamada Akemi's voice was gentle. "Tell slowly. Don't be afraid."
"My stepfather..." Margo closed her eyes. "He hits . He hits every day. He uses a belt, he kicks , he makes kneel on the floor for hours at a ti."
Silence again on the line.
"And..." Margo continued, "The way he looks at ... it's very strange. I'm very scared."
"Margo," Yamada Akemi's voice beca solemn. "Where are you right now?"
"In a phone booth near the school."
"Okay. Stay there and don't move. I'm coming to get you right now," Yamada Akemi said. "I'll be there in about twenty minutes, okay?"
"Yes."
"Rember, stay inside the booth. Don't co out. Wait for ."
"Okay."
Margo hung up the phone and leaned against the glass wall, letting out a long sigh of relief.
Soone was coming to save her.
Finally, soone was coming to save her.
Twenty minutes later, a white car pulled up next to the booth. Yamada Akemi got out, saw Margo, and walked over quickly. "Margo, are you okay?"
Margo shook her head, then nodded.
"Get in the car." Yamada Akemi opened the door. "We'll go back to the center first. Then I will contact your mother and stepfather to arrange a eting."
Margo got into the car and buckled her seatbelt. As the car started moving, the scenery outside receded bit by bit. Looking at the familiar streets, shops, and parks, Margo suddenly felt a sense of unreality.
Was she really leaving that ho?
Was she really leaving her stepfather?
Was she really going to be... free?
The Community Child Welfare Center was located on the third floor of a gray building. Yamada Akemi led Margo into an office, had her sit on a sofa, and poured her a cup of hot milk.
"Drink sothing first," Yamada Akemi said. "I've already called your mother. She and your stepfather are on their way."
Margo held the cup, her hands still shaking. The warmth of the milk seeped through the cup into her palms; it felt very cozy.
"Don't be afraid." Yamada Akemi sat across from her. "We will protect you."
Margo nodded and took a sip. The milk was sweet and fragrant.
About half an hour later, the office door was pushed open.
Margo's mother and stepfather walked in. The mont her mother saw Margo, her eyes turned red. She rushed over and pulled Margo into a tight hug. "Margo! Why did you co here? Mommy was worried sick! You didn't answer your phone; I thought sothing had happened to you..." Her voice was tearful as she gently patted Margo's back.
The stepfather stood at the door with a worried expression, but Margo could see the coldness in his eyes.
"Mrs. Houshou, please sit," Yamada Akemi stood up. "We need to have a serious talk today."
The four of them sat in the office, the atmosphere heavy. Yamada Akemi spoke first: "Margo told that she is frequently subjected to corporal punishnt at ho, and..."
"Corporal punishnt?" the stepfather interrupted. "Miss Yamada, you've misunderstood. I was only disciplining the child. Margo is far too mischievous; she won't listen without proper discipline."
"Is beating her with a belt considered 'discipline'?" Yamada Akemi asked.
The stepfather's expression stiffened. "That... that was because she was being truly disobedient. And I didn't use much force; I was just trying to scare her."
"Then what about the injuries on her body?" Yamada Akemi looked at Margo. "Margo, can you show your mother your injuries?"
Margo hesitated, then slowly rolled up her sleeves. Her arms were covered in a patchwork of new and old scars—so from belt lashes, so from pinching, so from impacts.
When her mother saw the marks, tears imdiately fell, and her voice rose.
"This... what is this? Who did this? Why didn't you tell Mommy?" As she spoke, she pulled Margo even closer.
"She fell by herself," the stepfather said imdiately. "I told you, this child is too mischievous. She runs around all day and trips over everything."
"Can a fall result in marks like these?" Yamada Akemi asked.
"She's a child; her skin is tender. One fall and she's black and blue," the stepfather said. "And Margo, tell them yourself—did you fall by yourself?"
Margo looked up at her stepfather. He was staring at her, eyes full of warning. She felt her mother's fingers pinch her shoulder sharply, then release.
"I..." Margo's voice was tiny. "I fell by myself."
"See!" the stepfather said instantly. "She admitted it herself. Miss Yamada, you've really misunderstood. We love Margo; how could we possibly hit her?"
Yamada Akemi looked at Margo, then at the stepfather, and finally at Margo's mother. "Mrs. Houshou, what do you think?"
The mother wiped her tears and looked down at Margo.
"Margo, tell Mommy, did you really fall by yourself?" Her voice was gentle, but her hand pinched Margo's back again, harder than before.
Margo looked into her mother's eyes. There were tears in them—she looked worried and pained—but her fingers were still pinching Margo, refusing to let go.
"Yes..." Margo whispered. "I was walking and wasn't careful; I fell."
"You child," her mother sighed, her tone full of reproach. "How could you be so careless? Didn't Mommy tell you to watch where you're going and not to run around? Look at what you've done to yourself, making everyone worry." She let go and pulled Margo's sleeves down, her movents light and gentle.
The conversation lasted for an hour. No matter how Yamada Akemi questioned her, Margo insisted she had fallen. The stepfather chid in from the side, and the mother kept holding Margo, occasionally interjecting that "the child is just too mischievous."
Finally, Yamada Akemi sighed. "Since Margo says so herself, there isn't much more I can say. But Mr. Houshou, I hope you will be mindful of your disciplinary thods in the future. Corporal punishnt has a major impact on a child, especially psychologically."
"Of course, of course," the stepfather nodded repeatedly. "I will definitely be careful from now on."
"Furthermore," Yamada Akemi looked at Margo's mother, "Mrs. Houshou, as a mother, you must also pay more attention to the child. If you notice anything wrong, contact imdiately."
"Understood, thank you," the mother said with a smile. "I'm so sorry for the trouble."
On the way ho, none of them spoke. Her mother held Margo's hand while the stepfather walked ahead. As they reached the entrance to their alleyway, her mother's grip tightened.
"Margo," her mother's voice was very low. "Don't run off like that again, okay? Mommy gets worried." She paused. "And besides, Daddy will get angry."
Margo said nothing.
"You don't want Daddy to be angry, do you?" Her mother looked down at Margo with a smile on her face, but no smile in her eyes.
Margo shook her head.
"Then be a good girl." Her mother patted her head. "No matter who cos to ask in the future, you say you fell. Got it?"
Margo nodded.
Once ho, the stepfather closed the door, turned around, and looked at Margo. His face was devoid of expression. "Go to your room," he said.
Margo looked at her mother. Her mother was looking down, changing her shoes in the foyer, refusing to look at her. Margo turned and slowly walked to her room.
Just as she entered, the stepfather followed and shut the door.
"Kneel," he said.
Margo knelt. The stepfather unbuckled the belt from his waist, held it in his hand, slowly coiled it up, and then snapped it loose.
"Did I not warn you about running your mouth?"
When the belt lashed down, Margo did not dodge. She closed her eyes as tears slid down from the corners and dripped onto the floor. This ti she didn't count; she was only thinking about how her mother also wanted her to shut up. It turned out her mother's smiles and tears were all just a performance for outsiders.
The stepfather beat her for a long ti—until Margo's consciousness grew hazy, until she couldn't even cry. Finally, he stopped. He threw the belt on the floor and walked out, closing the door.
After a while, the door opened again. Her mother walked in. She knelt beside Margo, gently propped her up against the headboard, and brought in a basin of warm water and a towel. She began to wipe the blood and tears from Margo's face.
"Does it hurt?" her mother asked, her voice very soft.
Her mother's hands were very gentle, the water was warm, and the towel was soft—just as gentle and soft as they had been in front of the social worker.
Margo looked at her mother. Her mother's head was bowed as she carefully wiped the blood from Margo's arms, her movents light, as if cleaning a fragile piece of porcelain.
Her mother's voice beca even softer. "You don't want people knowing what goes on in this house, do you? If they knew, what would they think of you? What would they think of Mommy? What would they think of Daddy? They would say we aren't a normal family."
She stopped and looked into Margo's eyes. Those eyes were exactly like her own—purple and beautiful—but there were no tears in them, no pain, only a numb silence.
"And... Daddy hits you because he loves you."
"Love?" Margo's voice was raspy.
"Yes, love." Her mother stroked Margo's head. "Daddy loves you, that's why he hits you. He does it for your own good, so that you'll beco a better child."
Margo looked at her mother—at the gentle gaze and the gentle voice.
Love.
Hitting her was because of love.
Making her kneel on the floor was because of love.
Lashing her with a belt was because of love.
Making her bleed, making her cry, making her afraid... it was all because of love.
So this was what love was.
Margo smiled.
As she smiled, more tears fell.
"I understand now, Mommy," Margo said, her voice very calm. "Daddy loves ."
Her mother nodded and hugged Margo.
"Yes, he loves you. So you must be obedient and stop making him angry, okay?"
"Okay, Mommy. I'll be obedient."
Her mother released her and stood up.
"Then get so rest. Mommy is going to cook dinner."
Her mother walked out and closed the door.
Margo lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Love.
So this was what love was.
Then she would have to learn how to love, too.
A twisted, deford, terrifying love.
But it didn't matter.
As long as it was love, it was enough.
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