Chapter 11: In the Rural S

In the rural 1980s, who didn't wear the same clothes for years? Patches upon patches were common—hand-me-downs from elder siblings to younger ones, and when garments became utterly unwearable, they'd still be repurposed for shoe soles. But Vanessa Ward from the Ward household? Just days ago, Agnes had been boasting through the village about making new clothes for her daughter's upcoming matchmaking.

Today, Vanessa wore a pristine white floral blouse, brand-new khaki trousers, and those eye-catching black canvas shoes with white trim. What village girl wouldn't envy her? Everyone knew The Wards had Daniel, their soldier son, who never lacked fabric ration coupons. Then there was Elena beside her—her worn-out black shoes revealing two toes!

"Aiyah, why does Daniel's fabric allowance only buy new clothes for his cousin while his own sister dresses like this?" muttered Aunt Elizabeth.

"Exactly! In dead winter, Elena fetches water at dawn, gathers pigweed, tends chickens, and washes the whole family's laundry at night..." added Mrs. Laura.

"And Vanessa? All she does is crack sunflower seeds and gossip!"

Calvin Ward burned under the neighbors' pointed stares. Elena seized the moment, clutching her tattered hem with trembling hands: "Uncle... I know I'm no match for Vanessa... but Grandma was going to beat me to death! If I hadn't run out, would you have told everyone I died of illness?"

The words struck like thunder. Calvin jumped up, frantic: "Elena! How could you think that of me?"

Before he could finish, Agnes lunged, seizing Elena's arm—directly on a fresh bruise. Elena gasped, tears welling.

"Agnes! Still resorting to violence?" Aunt Elizabeth yanked her away.

Agnes trembled with rage: "This wretched girl lies! I just hit her a little too hard—"

Elena shoved up her sleeve, revealing mottled purple welts: "Too hard? Last night, just because I refused factory work, you beat me half to death with a fire poker!" She turned to the crowd: "Four years—I haven't eaten cornbread, just dishwater leftovers..."

The villagers erupted.

"Starving a child in 1985?"

"The Wards have grain to spare!"

"Treating blood kin worse than a stray?"

Elena wiped her tears, voice breaking: "Mayor Reed, I'm eighteen—let me return to my own home!" Her mind was clear—if she stayed, her uncle would sell her family house by year's end.

Calvin went sheet-white. Agnes screeched: "You ungrateful—"

"Raised me?" Elena's gaze turned razor-sharp. "Grandma... am I even a real Ward?"

The question doused Agnes like ice water.