My Misogynistic Mother
As her family member, I applied to visit her.
Through the transparent glass of the asylum, I saw her bruised face. In the end, I asked only one question, "Don't you regret Marianne's death?"
Among all the people Mom had targeted, I was the only one who died. I wanted to know if, having lost everything, she would feel sorry or sad for the things she did.
But she felt neither.
Mom suddenly laughed as if she had heard the funniest joke. Her laughter was exaggerated, showing her gums. I even wondered if she had really gone mad.