chapter 1
My older sister was beautiful, and she dressed with a boldness that was as provocative as it was fearless.
But our family lived in a cramped urban village, where all kinds of people rubbed shoulders and public safety left much to be desired.
Mom and Dad urged her to dress more modestly so she would not attract the attention of dangerous men.
She refused. They were imagining the worst in people, she said.
Watching her carry on as she pleased, our parents spent every day sick with worry.
Before long, their worst fear came true.
One night, as my sister returned from working late, a man dragged her into an alley.
At first she was terrified and wanted to scream. But after seeing his face, she pulled a condom from her bag and handed it to him, then pressed herself against his body.
The man clearly had not expected that response. He stood frozen for a long moment. Only when my sister reached out and undid his belt did he lose control and take what he wanted from her with savage abandon.
When it was over, he hitched up his pants and started to leave.
My sister grabbed his trouser leg. She told him she liked him and asked for his contact information.
Thinking she only wanted it so she could report him later, he kicked her away and spat, “You filthy slut.”
From the window of my room, I happened to witness the entire thing.
As if she could feel my eyes on her, my sister looked up at me while straightening her clothes.
I panicked and ducked behind the curtain.
A few minutes later, I heard her downstairs making a call.
She reported that she had been assaulted in the alley and said the man’s semen was still inside the condom.
The police arrived soon afterward. They took my sister to the station, recorded her statement, and successfully recovered the man’s DNA from the condom.
Once that was done, my sister asked the policewoman taking her statement, “When you catch him, could you let me know? I’d like to see him.”
The officer looked surprised. Few victims ever asked to meet the suspect again.
Still, she nodded. “Yes. The standard procedure requires you to come in and identify him anyway.”
My sister’s lips curved into a delighted smile. She practically skipped home.
The next day, she stood before the mirror as usual in a sexy little skirt, examining her appearance with great care.
When Mom and Dad heard her humming, they could not help asking whether something good had happened.
She turned to them. “Mom, Dad, I’ve met someone I like. Once we’re officially together, I’ll bring him home to meet you.”
Sitting nearby, I wondered whether the man she liked was the one from the night before.
“What kind of man is he? What does his family do? How much does he earn? Where is he from?” our parents asked, rattling off all the ordinary questions.
My sister blushed. “Mom, Dad, he’s very handsome. Nothing else matters.”
They stared for a moment, then quickly let it go.
They had been urging her to find a boyfriend for years, but she had always said she wanted neither a relationship nor marriage. Now that she finally liked someone, they could accept him so long as he was no criminal and had no dangerous vices.
I had already understood the truth from her answer and her expression.
The man she wanted was the one from last night.
But I had no proof, so I kept silent.