Scar of Oblivion
Language: en
When my mother gave birth to me, she fell into a crushing postpartum depression. More than once, she stood on our high-rise balcony, staring at the ground far below, ready to jump. Each time, my father rushed out, wrapping his arms tightly around her trembling body, pulling her back against his chest. "I’m here, Jenny," he would whisper again and again, kissing her hair. "The baby and I are right here. Don’t be afraid." For our sake, she fought against the silent scream inside her to end it all. But the fragile peace broke the night I burned with fever. As I cried in my crib, something in…