1 My sister disappeared, and a huge monkey appeared in the basement. It was as tall as a person, and it even seemed to understand human speech. Dad had warned me, adamantly, that under no circumstances was I to go near it, except when bringing its food. Otherwise, he swore, it would eat you alive! I’d been so careful, always keeping my distance, until that day I walked past its iron cage and spotted my sister's necklace on its neck. Through the iron bars, I clearly saw a thin necklace around its neck, with a small, familiar stone hanging from the center. That necklace was a birthday gift I had made for my sister with my own hands. I couldn't possibly be mistaken. But my sister had been gone for half a month. How could that necklace be on this… thing? In the dim light, its eyes suddenly snapped open. The moment our gazes met, its eyes widened, and its entire body lunged against the iron cage. Its mouth opened and closed frantically, as if trying to speak, but with its tongue clearly severed, it could only emit a hoarse, guttural whimper. Even I, used to being around all sorts of animals daily, was startled. This wasn't a normal animal's reaction. Animals, when first brought in, would resist and recoil from humans, eventually becoming submissive and fearful. They certainly wouldn't approach in such a pleading, desperate posture. I stood far away, watching it cautiously. "What… what do you want?" Its face was pressed against the cage's bars, its two eyes watery and sorrowful, as if begging to convey something. Sensing no malice, I tentatively stepped closer. Just as I was about a foot away, Dad suddenly appeared. "Olivia! What are you still doing here? Didn't I tell you to go upstairs immediately after feeding it and not linger?" My heart lurched. I quickly retreated, putting distance between myself and the cage. His face was dark, and he strode over, swinging a leather whip. Before I could explain, he struck me with it. "Next time you disobey, it won't be just one whip!" "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm going now." I clutched my bleeding arm and retreated to the doorway. Dad approached the iron cage, but the monkey suddenly shrank back, cowering in the furthest corner, its eyes wide with terror as it watched him. Dad seemed pleased with its reaction. "Hmph, you little brute, you think you can defy me?" "Starting next week, he'll be performing. You're responsible for teaching him during this time. No mistakes whatsoever." "I'm counting on this creature to make money!" he muttered, lighting a cigarette. In the dark basement, the flickering firelight cast his face in monstrous, sinister shadows. I hunched my shoulders, glanced at the trembling monkey, and ultimately, said nothing, turning to leave. My room was directly above the basement. I could hear every sound from below with chilling clarity. Ever since that monkey arrived, I'd heard its cries every night, and tonight was no exception. Muffled, pained sounds, exceptionally loud in the dead of night. I clamped my hands over my ears, trying to ignore the noise, but then my gaze fell on the stone necklace on my bedside table—the matching one to my sister's. Images of the monkey, desperate and pitiful, clinging to the cage, flashed through my mind. My sister and I had grown up with Dad, following him from one circus to another. Our family survived on the money our animals brought in. But a month ago, the little monkey my sister had nurtured suddenly died from food poisoning. That performance had to be canceled, and Dad lost tens of thousands of dollars. He was furious, stringing my sister up by her feet and whipping her all night. When morning came, Dad took my bruised and bleeding sister away, claiming he was selling her off to our rural homestead. There was no use keeping her, he said. I pleaded and begged, but all I got was a brutal beating. My sister was still sold. A month later, Dad returned alone, bringing with him a monkey as tall as a person. This monkey, he said, was remarkably intelligent. Indeed, the first time it saw me, it struggled to get to me, as if I were an old friend. It never ate food offered by others, only when I personally gave it to him. Each time it looked at me, its eyes seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words, but I always avoided its gaze, afraid to get too close. Because an animal with a human's consciousness, a human's reactions – that was a terrifying thing. But then I saw that familiar necklace, and all its previous bizarre actions clicked into place. A wild, horrifying thought bloomed in my mind. Could it be… could my sister be hidden beneath that monkey's skin? 2 A muffled clap of thunder rattled the windowpane. Rain began to fall, a steady drum against the glass. My heart began to pound, a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Such a terrifying thought, a monstrous boulder, had landed squarely on my chest, crushing the air from my lungs. I slapped my throbbing head, shaking it, trying to dislodge the absurd suspicion. How could that be? How could a person be turned into a monkey? I must be overthinking things, I told myself. Monkeys were naturally intelligent. This one was so large, wasn't it normal for it to be a little more special than the others? With that thought, my mind eased slightly, and I drifted off, clutching my pillow. At dawn, Dad and I took the monkey to the training grounds. After being trapped in the sunless basement, it finally saw daylight and squinted, raising a hand to shield its eyes from the harsh glare. In the sunlight, its fur looked soft and smooth, thick and luxuriant, unlike the coarse coats of other wild monkeys. I reached out, wanting to touch it, but Dad's whip lashed out, striking my hand. "What are you pawing at? Don't be clumsy and mess him up. Are you going to perform then?" I clenched my hand, where the red welt bloomed. "I'm sorry." Dad shoved me away in disgust, spitting on the ground. "Always looking like a funeral. Just like your sister. Bad luck." Though I was accustomed to his insults, each word still pricked my heart, making my nose ache. My sister and I had followed him since we were children, never knowing a single good day. While other kids happily went to school in groups, Dad pulled us out after elementary school, forcing us to follow him on the circus circuit, earning money to support the family. We endured his beatings and curses without a murmur, living this stifled life for so long, yet never earning a single word of praise. Was it just because we were girls? Why? A knot of resentment and fury twisted in my chest, but I had no right to express it. It was useless, and would only invite harsher punishment. I lowered my head, swallowing my anger, but caught an unintentional glimpse of the monkey beside me. Its hands were clenched tight, and the side of its body closest to me trembled uncontrollably, as if enduring immense rage. I looked at it, puzzled. What was it so angry about? Before I could ponder further, Dad barked another order. "Go start the charcoal fire. It's time to brand him!" I suppressed my questions, heading to the corner to light the charcoal, then placing the palm-sized branding iron inside to heat. Soon, the iron glowed red-hot. I carefully removed it and carried it to the monkey. All the animals here had to be marked. He could have used paint, but Dad was a twisted psychopath. He loved using sadistic methods for fleeting excitement. The closer I got to the monkey, the more terrified it became. Its eyes were wide with horror, fixed on the branding iron in my hand, as it backed away frantically. Cornered against the wall, knowing there was no escape, it actually knelt, clasping its hands together as if begging me. But I had no say. I truly couldn't bear it, so I turned to look at Dad. He flung his cigarette butt to the ground, glaring at me. He strode over, furious, snatching the branding iron from my hand. "Damn it, stop playing the merciful saint in front of me!" With that, he raised the branding iron and slammed it hard onto the monkey's thigh. In an instant, thick smoke billowed from beneath the iron, and the acrid smell of burning fur permeated the air. The flesh on its leg sizzled and hissed. The monkey writhed on the ground in agony. It couldn't make a sound, only gasping whimpers, its eyes red from the intense pain. Dad watched, a sickening smile on his face. "See? Wasn't that easy? Doesn't that feel just great, huh?" "If you don't listen, this is what your daily life will be like. Understand?" The monkey lay weakly on the ground, even breathing with difficulty, its body still trembling uncontrollably. Dad seemed displeased by its silence and pressed harder. "I asked if you understood!" It seemed to comprehend his words, for it actually nodded its head several times. 3 Dad finally looked satisfied. He ripped the branding iron from its flesh with a sickening tearing sound. "That's better. From now on, you'll behave during training and make me good money. My life will be easier, and everyone's life will be easier. If my life is hard, no one gets an easy day." He tossed the branding iron at my feet and commanded, "Let him rest for a bit, then prepare for the next training session. Give him the most difficult routines. That's what people want to see." I looked at the large, raw, bloody patch on its upper thigh, and my heart clenched. An unspeakable pain spread through my body. I tenderly helped it to sit against the wall, using the gauze I had prepared beforehand to bandage its wound and prevent excessive blood loss. "I know it hurts, but all the animals here have to go through it. Just bear with it. It'll be better in a few days." It didn't respond, its hands clenched so tight they trembled. I looked up in surprise, seeing it turns its head to stare at Dad, who lay leisurely on a chair nearby. The fury in its eyes was like a volcano about to erupt, impossible to ignore. Such intense hatred, yearning to flay him alive, poured from its gaze, unmasked. These eyes, such a look, it truly wasn't like a monkey. I stared at it blankly, and that absurd thought from last night resurfaced. Was it really a person? And could it be my sister? I instinctively looked at the necklace around its neck, and the pressure of my hand on its wound tightened unconsciously. It whimpered in pain, looking down at me, the lingering anger in its eyes still somewhat terrifying. I quickly apologized. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" It watched me quietly, not moving its gaze for a long time, as if deep in thought, until break time was over and Dad urged us to begin. It swayed as it stood, its back hunched, and limped towards the tightrope. Dad had taught us that when training animals, they would sometimes hesitate. At such times, you just needed to drive them forward with a whip from behind. When they felt the pain, they would obediently move forward, and over time, they would learn to go on their own. But facing it, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I tried several times to soothe it, telling it not to be afraid. I even tried to scare it with Dad's name, but it was useless. It just huddled there, trembling, unwilling to move forward. Dad couldn't stand it. He cursed again, walked over, grabbed the whip, and lashed at it repeatedly. It was beaten until its body was streaked with blood, and finally, it took its first step. Dad watched its trembling progress, a triumphant smirk on his face. "You little bitch," he chuckled, "you think I don't know how to handle you?" "No matter what you become, I'll still bring you to heel!" I stood frozen, my heart giving a sharp lurch. In the past, he often used those very words to scold my sister and me. After my sister was sent away, they were aimed at me. But now he was using those words on a monkey! "No matter what you become?" What did that mean? What had it been like before? The more I thought about it, the more chilling it became. What if my sister hadn't been sold at all, but had been turned into a monkey by him?
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