2
In his sophomore year, he demanded a $400
in–game skin, and I refused.
He went berserk, pushing and hitting me.
“It’s all your fault! If I lived with Dad, he’d buy
me whatever skin I want! You’re broke!”
L
He pushed me into a table corner; I bled, but
he ran off.
I searched for him all night.
The next day, he showed off his new clothes
and shoes, boasting that his father had
bought him ten skins.
Even earlier, after his middle school exams.
He didn’t get into a good high school, so I
suggested he retake the exam.
“I won’t retake it! I’m too embarrassed!”
He went to his father.
His father readily agreed, then sent him to a
low–ranked high school.
Jason proudly showed off to me, saying only
his dad could solve his problems.
He never considered that without my tireless
effort during those three years of high school,
with his terrible school and weak foundation,
he wouldn’t have even gotten into a junior
college.
く
How could he get into a top university?
My sacrifices always paled in comparison to
his father’s small favors.
Jason always felt I was preventing him from
having a rich and happy life.
I felt so wronged, so resentful!
Resentful of my sacrifices, discarded like
trash!
Resentful that my short life ended because of
an ungrateful son!
