That night, as I lay on the clean and soft expanse of the large bed, I clung to the quilt with a sense of greed. I was savoring the warmth and comfort that perhaps would be the last of my life. I was so reluctant to let sleep overtake me. In my heart, I was acutely aware that from the next day onwards, I might be plunged into a perpetual hell. Clean food and this cozy bed were luxuries that were beyond my wildest imagination at that moment.
Unwittingly, my body and mind, drained from exhaustion, finally succumbed to a deep slumber. It was not until the following morning that Abu, that despicable wretch, roused me.
"Get up and have breakfast. After that, call your family. Once your family sends another 30,000 yuan, you can leave," he said. Abu was grinning, his smile seemingly warmer than the sunlight streaming through the window, yet I could sense not a shred of warmth in it.
"Okay!" I feigned excitement, threw off the quilt, and clambered out of bed.
I devoured the white porridge and steamed buns he had brought in just a few mouthfuls. This time, I was not taken to the cell where my toes had been cut off the previous day. Instead, I was led to the small house where I had first encountered this scoundrel.
Without me having to provide the number again, Abu, that scoundrel, dialed my family's number with practiced ease. He turned on the speakerphone and placed the phone in front of me. It rang only twice before it was answered.
"Qiangwa, how are you? Qiangwa..."
Hearing my mother's sobs over the phone, my nose stung and I was on the verge of crying myself. But I knew this was not the time for tears, for this might well be the last conversation with my family, the last time I would hear my mother's voice.
"Mom, don't cry. I'm fine," I said, clenching my thigh tightly to hold back the tears as I comforted her.
"Qiangwa, we've already sent the money to them. When will you come back? Your father and I will come to pick you up," my mother said.
"Pick me up?" Those words filled my heart with a profound sense of sorrow and bitterness. Perhaps after I die, when the police eventually destroy this den of evil, my decomposed body, reduced to a pile of bones, might return to my hometown. Going back alive was almost an impossibility.
"Qiangwa, I'll book train tickets to Yunnan with your mother later. Then..."
My father's words were cut short by me as I opened my mouth. I had noticed the impatience in Abu's eyes, that scoundrel. I feared that before I could convey all I wanted to my parents, he would hang up the phone.
"Dad, Mom, I can make my way back on my own. Just wait for me at home," I said.
"Dad, Mom, I'm sorry. I'll never disobey you again."
As I spoke, I kept an eye on Abu's face from the corner of my eye. Seeing his face darken, I knew my time was running out. I quickly hastened my speech and shouted into the phone, "Don't send any more money, not a single cent. Even if you send more, these bastards won't let me go back!"
Bang!
No sooner had I finished speaking than Abu, with lightning - fast reflexes, struck me on the head with a stick.
"Dad, Mom, if there's a next life, I still want to be your son!" Biting back the searing pain in my head, I shouted out this last sentence with tears streaming down my face before Abu, that brute, could hang up the phone. As soon as I said it, I received two more forceful blows to the head. "You fucking dare to play me. You must be tired of living!"
"Hit him! Beat him to death!" Abu was fuming with rage, jumping up and down, shouting maniacally as he lashed out at me randomly with the stick.
"Hahahaha..."
"Still thinking of using me to swindle my parents' hard - earned money. You son of a bitch, you're dreaming. If you've got the guts, kill me today." I seemed impervious to the pain, allowing the stick to rain down on me. With blood covering my face, I laughed like a madman. After having thought everything through the previous night, I had already resigned myself to death. Since escape was all but impossible and living in this hellish place like an animal was unbearable, death seemed the better option. In this infernal place, death was actually a form of liberation.
After hitting me on the head and body over a dozen times, Abu, that scoundrel, threw away the stick, gasping for breath. He lit a cigarette to calm himself down for a while. Then he came over, squatted on the ground, grabbed my hair with one hand, and sneered, "It's not that easy for you to die. I won't let you die until I've wrung every last drop of value from you."
After saying that, he slammed my head hard onto the ground. Then he got up and ordered another Myanmar thug, "First, drag this piglet to be branded, and then throw him into the water dungeon for a few days."
I was beaten to within an inch of my life and was dragged out like a lifeless dog. At this point, I didn't even have the strength to move a finger, let alone struggle. Even if I had the strength, with a heart yearning for death, I had no desire to resist. In this hellish place, what was the point of living? It was better to die quickly. What I regretted most now was that I had let my parents send most of their life savings to these scoundrels in vain. But it was too late to do anything about it now. I owed my parents so much in this life. I would repay them in the next life, even if it meant being their servant.
With a heart longing for death, I let them do as they pleased with me. I watched as these scoundrels branded the back of my neck with a red - hot iron, just as they would brand livestock. At that moment, I could even smell the acrid scent of burning flesh. Now you understand why I always wear shirts throughout the year. It's simply because I don't want people to see the humiliating brand on the back of my neck.
If in the future you see someone with a brand of ixora, or red spiders and cobras on the back of their neck, don't hesitate. That person is surely from northern Myanmar. No matter how they returned, you must keep your distance from them at once. Even if, like me, they managed to escape from northern Myanmar by some stroke of luck, it's best to stay away from them. Because after enduring inhumane torture, their psychology has become distorted. Even the slightest thing might trigger an extreme reaction from them.
After being branded with the ixora pattern, I was locked in the water dungeon. It was called a water dungeon, but in reality, it was a cesspool dungeon. It was even more horrifying than an ordinary cesspit. The water in the water dungeon had been there for God knows how long. It was about one and a half meters deep. Dead mice, dead snakes, and the corpses of unknown insects were floating all over the water surface. The water was darker than Coca - Cola. It was a veritable paradise for flies and maggots. An ordinary person would surely vomit up their previous night's meal just from smelling the stench of this pool of water from hundreds of meters away, let alone being locked in it.
Obviously, I had been prepared for death, but the moment I was locked in this water dungeon, a deep - seated fear welled up within me. Compared to being locked in this hellish place, I would rather die on the spot.