Chapter 3

The case was decided quickly.

The evidence was conclusive, and the suspect confessed without hesitation.

She even refused the court-appointed lawyer.

The day the verdict came down, it was overcast.

Aggravated murder, cruel methods, heinous circumstances—death penalty, to be carried out swiftly.

I was packing my bags when I received the verdict.

Seeing the words "death penalty," I felt a subtle sense of relief.

If she died, no one would know I had a mom who went to jail.

The gossip would eventually fade in a few years.

I sold the few acres of land we owned.

It was good land in the village, but I was in a hurry to sell and got a lower price.

Mr. Hayes's relative bought the land, giving me the money with a look of disdain.

"Take it. This is the money she sacrificed her life for."

I didn't say a word, took it, and put it in my pocket.

Nobody wanted the dilapidated house, so I sold everything inside for next to nothing.

Pots, pans, old furniture—it all brought in eighty dollars.

While tidying the bed, I pried a rusty tin box out from between the bricks under the bed.

A rusty mooncake tin.

I remembered that box. When I was little, whenever a man came over, she'd put money in it.

I'd always thought it was her burial fund.

Opening the box, a musty smell wafted out. It was packed full of money.

One-dollar bills, five-dollar bills, the largest denomination was only ten.

Not a single hundred-dollar bill.

But every bill was smoothed out perfectly, stacked neatly by size.

Some corners were stained with black coal dust, some with white cement powder.

I counted it. Twelve thousand dollars in total.

Exactly enough for my four years of college tuition and living expenses.

I looked at the money, a mix of emotions churning inside me.

Was this what she had saved her whole life? Where was Dad's inheritance?

So many five and ten-dollar bills, how many men did she have to entertain for this?

I felt disgusted.

I wanted to throw this money away, to burn it.

But looking at the empty house, and at the bus ticket in my hand for the provincial capital.

I still kept the money.

"This is what you owe me."

I said to the air.

"You gave birth to me, then ruined me. This is what you owe me."

Before I left, the prison called.

They said family members were allowed one last visit before the execution.

"I'm not going," I said into the phone. "I'm busy registering for school, I don't have time."

There was a long silence on the other end.

"Aurora, that's your own mother," the officer's voice was filled with anger.

"I don't have a murderer for a mom."

I hung up, pulled out the phone line, slung on my backpack, and locked the broken door.

Under the big old tree at the village entrance, a crowd had gathered.

Mr. Hayes's son sat there crying, cursing as he wept.

"A life for a life!"

Seeing me, he picked up a stone and threw it.

"Kill the bastard!"

The stone hit my back. It hurt.

I didn't stop, gritting my teeth, and walked out of that village.

It wasn't until I was on the bus heading to the provincial capital that I finally let out a long, shaky breath.

Aurora, you're free.

A month later, I was in the university cafeteria, gnawing on a fried chicken leg.

The dorm mother called me, "Aurora Hayes, phone call!"

I wiped the grease from my mouth and ran downstairs.

It was Detective Reynolds.

"Your mom... she's gone."

His voice was low.

"This morning at ten, the execution was carried out."

My hand tightened on the receiver, then relaxed.

"Oh, okay."

"She passed peacefully, didn't suffer," Detective Reynolds paused. "She just kept staring at the door, her eyes open until the very end."

My heart trembled, but I quickly suppressed it.

"Anything else? If not, I'm hanging up, I have class."

"Nothing else." After hanging up, I stood in the bustling campus.

Around me were brightly dressed college students, laughter, and bright sunshine.

I touched my meal card in my pocket again.

The money in it was earned with her life.

But I told myself, it was her atonement.

I bought a can of soda, the icy liquid pouring down my throat.

I told myself: Aurora, celebrate this new beginning.