Chapter 521: Growing Up with Domestic Violence

Lin Dongxue met Chen Shi at the station and told him, “Do you know why Zhang Hao suddenly snapped?”

“Did his son betray him?”

“Did he tell you that?”

“Not in detail.”

“Two years ago, his son saw him washing a bloodstained shirt late at night. When he asked about it, Zhang Hao slapped him and told him to go back to bed. The kid was furious and drew that picture. Later, he found a knife in Zhang Hao’s drawer and secretly hid it. When Zhang Hao discovered the knife was missing, he beat the boy again, who lied and said he lost it. Actually, the boy kept the knife hidden and just handed it over to us. It has Zhang Hao’s fingerprints and his father’s DNA on it.”

“That’s crucial evidence!”

“It was a misunderstanding. The boy told Zhang Hao today that he handed something over to the police. He meant the picture, but Zhang Hao thought it was the knife, so he assumed everything was exposed.”

Chen Shi sighed, “Adults always think kids don’t understand anything. In reality, kids are aware of everything, but their expressions are never taken seriously.”

With the physical evidence secured, it was now down to the confession.

They went to the interrogation room where Chen Shi bought Zhang Hao a meal and a bottle of water. After he had eaten, the interrogation began.

Having gone through the recent turmoil, Zhang Hao no longer resisted and calmly said, “I killed my father, Zhang Fade, but I don’t regret it. He deserved it.”

Chen Shi nodded, “I understand your feelings.”

Zhang Hao looked up, reminiscing, “What kind of family did I grow up in? ‘Domestic violence’ doesn’t even begin to describe it. My father beat me not because I did something wrong but because he was in a bad mood. Anything I did would be a reason for him to hit me. Once, he dragged me back into the house and beat me for not saying ‘goodbye’ when I left. My mother and I were his punching bags, but the more he vented, the angrier he got.” He pounded his chest. “Those unburned fires of rage stayed inside me, turning into nightmares and a terrible personality, making me fear others deeply.”

Zhang Hao closed his eyes, immersed in painful memories. “I was beaten constantly from the time I can remember. As a child, I had no way to fight back. I’ll never forget him drinking at the table, suddenly getting angry over something small, taking off his belt to ‘teach me a lesson.’ I would hide under the bed, trembling, saying, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ but he’d poke me with a clothes hanger and kick my head with his shoes. If my mom tried to stop him, he’d slap her and push her aside. Inside that house, he was a tyrant. We had to live by his moods, always on edge. Even crying too loudly could lead to another beating if it disturbed his TV watching.

“After he beat me, he’d feel like he fulfilled his duty as a father. He’d rub my head and say, ‘Son, what do you want for dinner?’ or ‘I hit you for your own good, understand?’ I’d nod fearfully, and in his eyes, that was obedience. In those moments, I felt like I had no dignity, not even as much as a dog. His influence made me violently aggressive from middle school onward. I had two ways of dealing with people: smiling at them or hitting them. If someone offended me, I’d wait for a chance to beat them up. That horrible personality followed me into adulthood. I knew I was despised by everyone, and I hated myself, others, and most of all, the demon who caused it all.

“After graduating, I tried to escape this family, thinking I’d never return. But my work outside didn’t go well, and I had no savings after a few years. I had to crawl back in defeat. Returning meant facing the ugliness here. By then, my grandfather’s health was deteriorating, and there were constant fights over the inheritance. My grandfather wanted to leave everything to my useless uncle, mainly this shop. Since my father ran the business, my grandfather proposed that my father buy out my uncle’s share over time. Every meeting between my father and grandfather ended in a fight. On New Year’s Eve, after a family dinner, my uncle left early, and my father brought up the inheritance again. The argument escalated. I never joined these fights, watching these two despicable people squabble like dogs over scraps was satisfying.

“I was upstairs watching the New Year’s Gala when I heard a crash. I ran downstairs to see my father had hit my grandfather with a wine bottle. I asked if we should take him to the hospital, but my father checked his breathing and said he was dead, telling me to come up with a plan. I realized his ‘plan’ meant dismembering my grandfather. Blood was everywhere. He told me to get some bleach to clean up, but I just stood by. He was too old to beat me anymore and could only curse as he worked. I watched, eating, as he chopped up my grandfather, cursing him the whole time. He threw the meat into a grinder and bagged the organs, disposing of them in the middle of the night.

“The house reeked of my grandfather. My father bought disinfectants the next day to clean thoroughly, then burned the bones and put them in a jar. He warned me to keep quiet. I pretended to comply, but inside, I planned to make him pay. Later, he even sold those meatballs made from my grandfather. The police never solved the disappearance. I thought of reporting it many times, but then I realized something even better: this secret made him fear me. Mentioning that night or specific details made him obedient. So, I made him move downstairs. In the cold, he slept on the shop counter, catching bronchitis from going out to the toilet at night. He didn’t dare complain. It was sweet revenge, watching him suffer, repaying his debt. The word ‘father’ became disgusting to me. Later, he even transferred the property to me.

“This went on for years until he couldn’t stand it anymore. During one fight, he kept reminding me he was my father and accused me of being unfilial. I coldly replied that he set a great example. Enraged, he tried to hit me. I tripped him, smashed his head on the floor, and said, ‘This is where you killed your father. Bow to him, you paragon of filial piety!’ This demon who ruined my life was so weak. I ignored his pleas and cries, feeling immense satisfaction as I beat him until he stopped resisting.”

Zhang Hao shrugged as if discussing a dog’s death. “I realized I had killed him.”

Then he laughed.