It Turned Out That I Was The Monster
I still remember the day I first saw my mother's face. I was young, only five years old, but the image has been etched in my mind forever. Her once-beautiful face was disfigured, scarred, and twisted. The whispers and stares of others made me feel ashamed to call her my mother. As I grew older, my hatred for her only intensified. Why did she have to be so... ugly?
