My Eyes Paid Your Debt
Language: en
I stood by the window, my fingertips tracing the rough fabric of the blackout sleep mask that covered my eyes. Three years. For three years, fumbling through a world of shadows has been my "normal." It all started with an accident—a flashlight beam caught my younger brother’s eyes while I was looking for a torch during a power outage. He had weak vision back then, a delicate condition. My mother didn't see it as an accident. She saw it as a calculated strike. Without a word of explanation, she began administering "treatment" to me—unknown dilating drops that stung like acid. "You want to…