The Night I Was Asked 'Who Do You Think Is Right' 🔥3

'Who do you think is right?'

I remember those words clearly.

Before I started elementary school,
I have almost no memories of my father.

He is in the photographs.
But inside me, he is almost non-existent.

That night was the first time I clearly recognized my father.
And I felt 'scared'.

────

It was when I was about six years old.

I had laid out a futon in the living room,
and was sleeping with my step-grandmother.

The Japanese-style room with the family altar.

Next to us, my father was watching TV.

That day, in my drowsiness,
I woke up slightly.

There are voices.

'Why would something like that happen!'
'Even if you say that...'

Is someone fighting?
...Mom and Dad?

Gradually, my head cleared,
and I realized those were my father's and mother's voices.

In the dimly lit room, my father's drunken voice echoed low.

'I can't take it anymore...'

Mom is crying.

I woke up completely.
My back tensed up all at once.

Why?
Why is Mom crying?

After a while, I heard the sound of my mother crying softly as she left through the front door.

I felt like my brain was turning into mush.

I can't breathe.
I can't move.

Mom, where are you going?
Why?

I curled up in my futon, shrinking away.
My heart was pounding so hard my body pulsed,
and it felt like even my ears were shaking.

Was I left behind?

Even though I wasn't cold, my teeth were chattering.
Tears gushed from both eyes.

*Sniff*

Even though I was trying to stifle my voice so no one would know,
the sound of me sniffling leaked out.

'Hey, Minori.'

My father's voice came from behind.
I stiffened involuntarily.

'Minori.'
I heard my father's low voice again from behind me.

I gave up, sat up, and looked toward my father.
At that moment, tears and snot overflowed all at once.

To me, who was crying, my father said,

'Between your father and your mother,'

'who do you think is right?'


My fingers are cold.

What should I say?
I didn't know, but I thought desperately.

'...Dad...'

With a raspy voice, I managed to speak.

My father only said, 'Right? Now go to sleep.'
And then, he continued his evening drink.

I crawled into the futon.
I hugged my knees and made myself small.

Even though my step-grandmother should have been right next to me,
she didn't react at all.

The next morning, my mother returned.

However, the anxiety inside me did not disappear.

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🫧The Me in This Form

I hope something remains in your heart.
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