After my father's affair with an employee was exposed, my mother left home and abandoned me. My father would drink and complain about his life, and about a year later, he crawled into my futon one night, saying he was lonely. I knew it was wrong, but as he wept while touching my body, I felt pity and sorrow—and couldn't bring myself to resist. Eventually, the family business went bankrupt and our income dried up. At my father's request, I began selling myself. "Just until I find a new job. Your mother will come back eventually." I was raped by strange men, and my father happily took the money, stroking my head each time. One of those men turned out to be a classmate's father, and soon rumors spread at school, leading to bullying. My father just laughed and said, "If it's too hard, just quit school. You can earn even more that way," patting my head again. From then on, I was raped daily—by my father, by strange men—and handed over the money again and again. But my mother never came back. "You've suffered so much. If you hate it, you can run away. I'm on your side," said a strange man I'd just met, as he pulled me into a hug and gently stroked my hair. I was surprised—and a little happy. So it's true. I'm allowed to run away. "Then... I want to go home now," I said, gathering courage. "Yeah, I get it. But not today," he laughed, pushing me down. I understood. This kind of adult is all that exists in my world. Killing my emotions for the sake of family, enduring silently, just waiting for time to pass. The tragic story of a pitiful girl.