He Was My Uncle, My Love, My Biggest Mistake

For ten years, I secretly harbored feelings for Uncle Percival Montgomery and filled a diary with my unspoken love.

On the day of my meticulously planned confession at my coming-of-age ceremony, I was full of joy, certain he would accept my feelings.

But to my dismay, it was all a fantasy.

Percival produced my diary, and the usually gentle man looked at me with eyes as cold as ice.

"To fall in love with your own uncle. Garce Huxley, you seriously need help!"

It was he who had me committed to a psychiatric hospital for treatment.

After three failed pregnancies left me disabled, I was too broken to love again and willingly became a humble junior in front of him.

When Percival discovered the truth, he went utterly mad, eyes reddened with tears as he begged:

"Garce Huxley, I was wrong. Please, love me again!"

...

The day I was taken out of the psychiatric hospital in handcuffs.

Percival, clad in a black trench coat, stood erect at the hospital entrance.

In the shadows where Percival couldn’t see, Charles's large, calloused hand lingered on the inside of my waist, threatening malevolently.

"Garce, once you're out of here, you know what to say and what not to say, right?"

Standing before Percival, I couldn't bear to look up at him. Trying to minimize my presence, I curled into myself as much as possible.

Percival's words exploded in my ears.

"Garce, I'm here to take you home."

This marked the fifth year of my internment in the psychiatric hospital.

For five long years, I deceived myself with fantasies every day.

If I could hold on just a bit longer, Percival would come and rescue me.

Pain washed over me like a tide, and perhaps due to the prolonged medication, memories from five years ago began to flicker through my mind.

On my eighteenth birthday, I had harbored a secret wish to invite Percival for the first dance.

I had meticulously chosen the song as a declaration of love.

After years of being with him, I fell irrevocably in love with Percival.

Percival, who had always doted on me and never rejected me, suddenly changed his demeanor.

Percival coldly shook off my hand, producing a thick leather-bound notebook.

Ignoring my progressively paler face, he opened the notebook and read aloud every embarrassing word to the crowd.

At that moment, just as now, I stood helplessly before him.

Percival's thin lips parted, exuding icy coldness:

"To fall in love with your own Uncle Percival, Garce, you're truly sick, and you make me nauseous."

Laughter erupted around us, turning my coming-of-age ceremony into an unrecognizable nightmare, shattering my secret love.

"If you're this sick, you'd better get proper treatment."

Percival committed me to a private psychiatric hospital.

At first, I repented daily, convincing myself that loving him truly was a sickness.

My room was placed in the darkest, most dismal corner.

Surrounded by the most extreme mental patients, I was fragile.

Every night, the endless noise of scratching walls, punches, kicks, and insults pushed my sanity to its breaking point.

I started losing hair in clumps, forced to take medication that kept me in a constant state of drowsiness.

On the electroshock chair, my sessions and shocks were three times more than other patients.

They cornered me in the treatment room, yanking my hair, forcing me to kneel in humiliation, and I emerged covered in bruises and welts.

One evening, after they dumped a plate of food over my head again, I snapped.

With yellowed vegetables still clinging to me, I barged into Director Charles's office, clinging to his leg.

Looking at Charles’s seemingly kind face, with tears streaming down, I cried:

"Please, save me! I can't take this inhuman torment any longer. I'm on the verge of breaking!"

Charles listened with a smile, moved behind me, and gently locked the door.

His hand moved between my legs, caressing up and down as he suggested a deal.

"Alright then, you help me, and I'll help you, okay?"