Approaching, I poured out the oatmeal and gently embraced her. "Don't ruin your future for unworthy people," I whispered.
I felt sorry for this little girl, who was burdened with a life of torment at such a tender age, mirroring my own fate.
I wanted to help her as if I was helping the isolated and helpless version of myself from the past.
Seeing her emaciated figure and bruised face, I was too preoccupied with my sympathy for her to notice the fleeting malice and resentment in her eyes.
And that hatred was directed towards me.
The icy December water chilled me to the bone, each wave slapping against my face, nearly numbing my thoughts.
But amidst it all, I distinctly heard her say, "Why did you meddle and pour out that pot of oatmeal?
"If you hadn't interfered, they would all have gone to die with Grandpa!
"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have suffered for so many years! It's all your fault! You deserve to die just like them!"
Suddenly, the words came to me. "A beam of light shines into the dark tower, exposing all the dirt and sin within, thus tainting the light with guilt."