In the hospital, my father's leg was encased in thick plaster, his face pale with an unhealthy hue, but it couldn't mask his fury and disappointment.

"It's been over ten days, and we haven't even seen her shadow! Yet you still defend her?"

"She's still young and doesn't understand; you shouldn't hold it against her," my mother said softly, gently patting my father's back.

"Young? She's fifteen! When Caroline was only seven or eight…"

My father suddenly stopped, his voice thick with emotion as if he recalled my own understanding and obedience from those years ago.

But even so, how had they treated me back then?

My father pointed a...