The Beloved Daughter by Alana Terry Page B

little girl while I was at work,” Shin explained. For a brief moment, I considered the possibility that all of the detainment center guards I met over the years had children of their own. The idea was incomprehensible.
    “Why did you send her to Yanji?” I asked, trying to think of something else.
    Shin wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “Because of you.”
    “Me?”
    “Last summer, my daughter developed an infection in her lungs and couldn’t breathe properly. The doctors refused to give her medicine. They said she didn’t deserve medical care.” Shin turned his head aside and spat in the snow.
    “I was desperate. After my wife died, my daughter was the only light in my life. I knew the Old Woman’s story. So I asked her for help. I’m sure you remember that night. When I returned home, my mother-in-law was awake. She told me how my daughter’s breathing cleared up in an instant, at the same time I was in your cell.
    “When I got to work two days later, I learned about what happened to the Old Woman. And what happened to you as well.” I stared at the snowy carpet beneath me while Shin continued. “Any hope that I had left in the Party vanished. We weren’t victorious upholders of the revolution; we were barbarians. Gruesome, cruel beasts. My colleagues and I were not even fit to be called humans.
    “But I was scared,” Shin confessed. “I knew what would happen if I openly rebelled. So I sent my daughter on to Yanji for her own protection and made a vow to the Old Woman’s God that I would do everything in my power to correct the mistakes of my past and make up for the shameful behavior of my comrades.
    “I used my position in the detainment center to help as many as I could. A few, like yourself, I sent back to the main camp. But my authority was limited, and eventually my colleagues realized I lost my zeal to their cause. I was demoted. They sent me to guard the train depot. It was a lesson meant to teach me not to interfere with camp politics.
    “With my daughter no longer by my side, I grew very depressed and withdrawn. If you must know, I came close to drastic measures.” Shin paused and lowered his head. “Suicide,” he finally admitted.
    I cringed at this confession, not because I felt sorry for Shin and the anguish of his past, but because I couldn’t shake the image of my father hanging in his cell after denying the God he once loved so passionately.
    “What stopped you?” I asked, trying to rid myself of the horrific picture.
    “You did,” Shin answered. “I knew that you were close to the Old Woman. If anyone could explain her mystery to me, it was you.”
    I sighed. “Then I am destined to disappoint you. She spoke very little about herself during our entire nine months together. There’s not much I can share with you.” I regretted that I didn’t press the Old Woman harder to tell me the rest of her story. In the comfort of her cell, I imagined that she and I would always enjoy unhurried days filled with easy conversation and restful silence. I never realized that my respite with the Old Woman would be curtailed so abruptly.
    “I’m not talking about the Old Woman’s past,” Shin commented, “although it was undoubtedly miraculous. I’m talking about what happened the night I was in your cell. The Old Woman told me that it was Jesus Christ who healed my daughter. I’ve heard this name before, but I don’t know who this man is or whether he is dead or alive. And I don’t understand how my daughter was healed on his account. That,” Shin concluded, “is what I wanted to ask you for eight months. That is why I decided to take you with me when I escaped to Yanji.”
    For the first time during our conversation, I turned and stared at Shin. “You planned to escape with me from the beginning?”
    Shin nodded. “I knew what unit of the garment factory you were working in. It wasn’t difficult. When the fire started I gave orders for the women from the garment