There is a woman in my heart.
She came through the cold darkness, dressed in sunlight filtering through the trees.
She says, "Your license to kill has been revoked."
The smell of blood and gunpowder that had soaked in was washed away. I was left to fend for myself...
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I was born in 1916 to a poor Southern farm family.
My father was a hard worker and my mother was devoted.
When I was born, I was supposed to be taller than my parents. But by the time I realized it, I was barely the height of their shoulders.
Drought, water shortage, pests, and modernization brought suffering to our family year after year.
I was petrified at the sight of a tractor sent by the town's agricultural cooperative.
They told my father, "Mr. Stance, pack up your things and leave. The landlord prefers to hire someone who knows how to run this land properly."
"What? I didn't hear anything. You can't do whatever you want. This place is mine."
"Well, isn't it? It belongs to the landlord."
That tractor felt like a real pest - a big, stupid pest, I thought as a child.
After that, our family moved to another town.
My father worked in a meatpacking plant, and my mother started weighing dry goods from home.
I was the youngest of three children.
I was often bullied by the kids in the neighborhood.
I was so skinny that they teased me that I looked like a chicken bone.
"Will is a nice boy who can't even kill insects. You have to protect him," my mother would scold my brothers.
There were days when we couldn't buy rice and had to survive on potatoes, but my mother would only drink water.
"Will, just eat. Mommy is full after seeing you eat."
My mother was kind. She loved me with all her heart.
She rubbed my back all night while I was panting with sickness. She stayed by my side without sleeping.
But my father was a wild alcoholic.
He couldn't adjust to the factory job and was always angry.
People looked down on him because of his strange features and because he was different. He caused trouble and envied others for their money.
Alcohol changed him. He used to be sober and strong, but alcohol took over.
It changed him completely.
My father once loved to be covered in dirt.
In spite of everything, we grew potatoes, beans, and cucumbers in the small garden of our rented wooden house.
We even had chickens.
One day I saw my father slaughtering a chicken to eat.
"Why would you do such a pitiful thing?" I asked.
My father stood there in silence. Then he slapped me and went to throw the chicken into the mountains.
Soon he stopped farming and eventually quit his job at the factory.
When I was fifteen, my two older brothers left for the war.
They waved back, saying they would come back rich.
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