The Son They Refused to See

I zoomed in, and zoomed in again, until the buildings in the picture came into focus. This wasn't Havai at all—it was the city beach.

Behind me, the kidnapper laughed, a twisted sound. "Hahaha, your parents never left the country. They're hiding like cowards! They don't want to come save you!"

The last thread in my head snapped. The horror of that truth kept me from thinking even for a second. I dragged myself to where the livestream phone lay, my face blurred by blood and tears, and I screamed at the screen, wrenching my voice raw, "Mom, Dad, it's me—Will! Can't you see me? My fingers are gone, it hurts so much, I'm dying—are you really not going to help me? I'm your son! Your biological son!"

The comments exploded.

'My heart is breaking for this child!'

'I'm the boy's father—villain, release him! I'll pay the ransom!'

'I'm the boy's mother. Let my child go. Take Ezel Lewis!'

'We're all this child's parents—say your terms!'

Countless strangers online claimed to be my parents, but my real parents never appeared.

Ever since I had returned to my birth family, I had only been met with cold stares and contempt. When I was happy, they accused me of stealing from Ezel; when I was down, they said I ruined the mood. Still, some instinctive kinship made me cling to the idea that they loved me. I had been foolish enough to believe it.

"Your parents won't come." The kidnapper cut the livestream off and pronounced without mercy.

I covered my ears and mumbled numbly, "No, maybe they just didn't see it…"

He yanked my hair and shoved the phone in my face with a sneer. "You poor, pathetic, unloved child. Face reality, little one."

A new video had come from Ezel. In it, my family stood on a beach, lighting a sweep of fireworks. Under the glow, they ate barbecue together, everyone raising glasses and laughing to celebrate Ezel's birthday. In the corner of the shot, a phone left on the table played my torture. My screaming was swallowed by their cheers.

Ezel quickly deleted the clip, then jeered, "Oops, sent to the wrong person! Dad told us to pretend we didn't see you. Will, just act like you didn't see it.

"Actually, whether you saw it or not doesn't matter—Will Lewis is just a rat that can't show its face. You're going to die in a gutter soon."

I slumped to the ground, hands shaking uncontrollably, blood welling from the severed digits. My eyes were dry; I couldn't shed another tear.

"You hate them, don't you? Loathe them. Why should they be merry while you suffer alone? If I were you, I'd get my revenge—make that family burn!" the kidnapper hissed, eyes bloodshot as he gripped my trembling hand and shoved a remote into it.

"Press this button, and a video of Shaun and his wife torturing my son years ago will spread across every major site. He'll be ruined—he'll regret ignoring you. I want Shaun Lewis to die by the hands of his own son."

The remote had lain in my palm for 24 hours, stained dark with my blood.

However, I never pressed it.

…

After 24 hours, the kidnapper was gunned down by the special ops unit that had come. A group of uniformed officers burst in, and at their head were my parents.

I lay there weak on the floor and watched them rush past me without stopping.

The Remote in My Hand

More than once, their feet landed on my severed fingers scattered across the floor.

They spent a long time inspecting the scene before my mother finally crouched beside me. When her gaze brushed over the broken stumps of my fingers, a flicker of disgust crossed her face. She reached out as if to touch my cheek, but ended up only straightening my collar.

With a wretched look, she said, "Your father and I came too late. It's our fault this time, Will. We were abroad, so we couldn't save you in time. Things are complicated now, and it isn't convenient for us to acknowledge you. Be good and go with the doctors for treatment."

I stared at her blankly, my tightly clenched right hand twitching. If my mother had cared even a little about whether my hand hurt or whether it could be saved, she would have noticed the remote hidden in my mangled palm—the one thing that could destroy their family. But she didn't.

Several nurses crowded around me then. Their eyes brimmed with tears as they stroked my filthy face and tried to soothe me. "It's okay, sweetheart. You're safe now. It won't hurt anymore…"

They wept as they carefully picked up my severed fingers from the floor, knowing full well there was no chance of reattaching them but still keeping them safe. My parents, on the other hand, had already turned away, pretending not to see me.

When they lifted me onto a stretcher, a nurse noticed that my right hand was clamped around something. She coaxed me gently. "Sweetheart, let go so I can bandage you. It won't hurt as much once it's wrapped up."

When I didn't respond, she tried to pry my hand open, but even a little force made me bleed. So she gave up and called out to my father. "Captain Lewis, the boy's holding something in his right hand and won't let go. I think it might be evidence about the kidnapper, or something important from his family. Do you want to take a look?"

My father's expression sharpened as if he'd suddenly realized something and started toward me. At that moment, Ezel strode in wearing a white suit, surrounded by a cordon of special ops officers. He threw himself into my father's arms, trembling like he was the real victim.

My father soothed him patiently before glancing back at my hand. A flash of jealousy flickered in Ezel's eyes as he screamed and clutched at my father. "Dad, his hand is so scary! Don't go over there—I'll have nightmares!"

My father immediately stopped, covering Ezel's eyes with his palm as he moved to take him out.

Just then, my father's superior stepped up beside him. "Lewis, that boy keeps looking at you like he wants to say something. Do you know him?"

My father didn't even turn his head. "No."

The superior patted his shoulder. "The kidnapper was clearly after your son. You'd better keep a close watch on Ezel from now on."

My father nodded. "Of course. Even if something happens to me, nothing will happen to my son."

"At least it wasn't Ezel who got kidnapped…" My mother murmured under her breath.

I lay on the stretcher like a dead fish, my eyelids fluttering. Tears spilled uncontrollably down my face, but I still forced myself to raise my trembling right hand toward my mother. 'Mom, this is something important to you. I haven't shown it to anyone. Why won't you even look at it? Do I disgust you that much?'

She let out a sharp cry and jumped back, brushing off her uniform even though no blood had touched it. My hand froze in midair.

Across the room, Ezel cheerfully urged her, "Mom, come on! Dad says we're going out for steak to celebrate surviving this!"

Watching the happy backs of that family as they walked away, I couldn't hold it in any longer. My right hand unclenched at last, and with my mangled fingers I pressed the post button.