' But Sylviana only wept harder, unable to feel anything
but her own pain.
'She may be the last Japanese left alive,' he continued. 'And
the silent suffering forced on the women of that country by their
culture is beyond any power of mine to convey. Should it all be for
naught? Hate the men of that time if you want; sometimes I do myself.
But not the women. God love them.....
'She has the right to bear a child, Sylviana, and to choose that
child's father. Think about that the next time you find yourself
hating her, or despising the blessed and innocent life that now grows
inside her. I don't think you'll have the heart to hate her then.
Not in your worst moments.'
But it was all too much for her: too overwhelming to forgive, or even
understand. She raised herself, angrily pushing away the hands that
would have comforted her, and ran out of the room with a wordless cry of
pain and self-loathing. And kept on running, as if the Devil ran behind
her.
In time she slowed to a walk, though she could no more stop moving than
deny her lungs the air they screamed for. 'Just walk!' she cried.
'WALK. Until you can't feel anything.'
But after another mile she stopped, and knelt down and wept for the
third time. Because she knew that she would do it.
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