Runaway Sister Chapter 1

My sister has a developmental delay, with an IQ of a 7-year-old.

Our family arranged a marriage for her.

The groom was 36, slightly disabled, and owned a grocery store in the next county.

On the day of the wedding, my sister was dressed beautifully, her eyes full of innocent curiosity.

Mom lied to her: "We're going on a trip. Be good."

She got into the car excitedly.

After that, I never heard from her again.

Until the day of the Mid-Autumn Festival, she came back.

She lay by the window and whispered timidly, "Sis, my body hurts a little."

"C-can I rest at home for a few days?"

* * *

Although my sister Jenny is simple-minded, she is exceptionally beautiful, especially her eyes—dark and bright.

Like an innocent little animal.

So when she secretly peeked through my window, I spotted her immediately.

"Jen?"

Seeing her alone, I was shocked.

It takes three hours just to drive from the county to our town, with transfers in between.

I didn't know how she made it back.

Through the window glass, I saw her eyes filled with tears.

Her voice was very low: "Sis, my body hurts a little."

"C-can I rest at home for a few days?"

Saying the word "home," her mouth puckered slightly, trying hard not to cry.

When I was bullied as a kid, she had the same expression when protecting me.

I put down my homework, feeling complicated, and opened the window.

Only when she was close did I notice a small sign hanging around her neck.

Written in black marker: [Jenny Chen, has an owner, contact: 137xxx]

"Who hung this sign on you?!"

I frowned, trying to untie it for her, only to find it was a dead knot, and the string was wire.

Like a collar, it couldn't be taken off.

Jenny didn't hide her emotions; grievance and sadness flowed freely.

"He hung it on me. I said no, I don't like it, he wouldn't listen."

I froze.

"He" must be my brother-in-law.

I only saw him once at the wedding—tall and thin, with a slight disability in his right leg, walking unsteadily.

He looked honest, but I didn't expect him to be this kind of person behind the scenes.

Our house is self-built; my room is on the first floor, my parents are on the second, and there's no one in the living room.

I quietly opened the door and let Jenny in.

Back in the room, under the fluorescent light, Jenny's face was dirty, her clothes torn and dusty.

I asked, "Did you run away?"

She nodded, saying foolishly, "I asked a lot of people and took the bus for a long time to find our home."

I lifted her collar and gasped.

Her fair skin was covered with red marks, some healed, some new.

I rolled up her sleeves; her arms were the same.

"Who beat you?" I gritted my teeth.

She blinked, tears rolling down one by one. "Many people. Him, his mom, his dad..."

"Mia, I don't want to live with them."

"I want to go home."