Chap­ter 45 begins with the nar­ra­tor rem­i­nisc­ing about sev­er­al painful episodes from their child­hood, moments marked by both phys­i­cal and emo­tion­al dis­tress. These mem­o­ries are vivid and impact­ful, start­ing with the inci­dent at age four when the nar­ra­tor stepped on a piece of sharp scrap met­al, an ear­ly expe­ri­ence of pain that left a last­ing impres­sion. As they grow old­er, more painful moments arise, such as the fever that con­sumed them at sev­en years old, leav­ing them weak and vul­ner­a­ble. Then, at age eleven, the emo­tion­al and phys­i­cal tur­moil tied to their first peri­od becomes anoth­er mark­er of pain. While each of these inci­dents con­tributed to the narrator’s under­stand­ing of suf­fer­ing, the real pain they now expe­ri­ence is direct­ly linked to their mother’s anguish. The chap­ter paints a pic­ture of how the source of pain evolves, show­ing that as child­hood expe­ri­ences shape one’s sense of vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty, adult­hood brings its own deep­er, more com­pli­cat­ed emo­tion­al chal­lenges, espe­cial­ly when tied to fam­i­ly rela­tion­ships.

As the nar­ra­tive shifts to the present, the moth­er is depict­ed as crouched, vis­i­bly dis­tressed, and over­whelmed by con­fu­sion and suf­fer­ing. Her phys­i­cal pos­ture reflects the emo­tion­al tur­moil that she’s endur­ing, mak­ing it clear that the pain she’s expe­ri­enc­ing is not only phys­i­cal but also deeply psy­cho­log­i­cal. The narrator’s instinct is to com­fort her, a desire that man­i­fests in the ques­tion, “Where does it hurt?” but the response, “Every­where,” strikes a chord, under­scor­ing the per­va­sive nature of the moth­er’s suf­fer­ing. Her words are filled with such despair that they res­onate deeply with the nar­ra­tor. The atmos­phere in the scene becomes more intense, with the image of crows caw­ing in the back­ground adding an eerie, almost rit­u­al­is­tic feel to the moment. The sounds seem to echo the heav­i­ness of the mother’s anguish, enhanc­ing the emo­tion­al weight of the scene. It is as though the envi­ron­ment itself reflects her inter­nal state, inten­si­fy­ing the read­er’s sense of the mother’s pain and the depth of the trau­ma she’s expe­ri­enc­ing.

The emo­tion­al bond between the nar­ra­tor and their moth­er becomes increas­ing­ly evi­dent as the nar­ra­tor attempts to con­sole her, try­ing to reas­sure her that she is now safe, that “he” is gone. The “he” in this case refers to the abuser who had caused years of torment—both phys­i­cal and emo­tion­al. Despite the removal of the abuser from their lives, the mother’s tears are not eas­i­ly cat­e­go­rized as sim­ple sor­row. Her tears fall with­out touch­ing her cheeks, sig­ni­fy­ing a pain that runs deep­er than the vis­i­ble emo­tion­al wounds. The imagery of her tears, left unac­knowl­edged and uncom­fort­ed, paints a pic­ture of pro­found sor­row, one that can­not be eas­i­ly resolved with words or assur­ances. The nar­ra­tor, while try­ing to com­fort her, is faced with the painful real­iza­tion that safe­ty does not always equate to heal­ing, and that the scars left by years of abuse can­not be erased by mere pres­ence or words of sup­port. This real­iza­tion brings a sense of help­less­ness, as the mother’s emo­tion­al pain seems to per­sist regard­less of her cur­rent cir­cum­stances.

The com­plex­i­ty of the mother’s suf­fer­ing becomes more appar­ent as the nar­ra­tor learns that her pain is not sim­ply a result of the abuse, but also from the absence of the abuser. Despite the tor­ment he caused, the moth­er secret­ly longs for his return, reveal­ing the intri­cate and often con­tra­dic­to­ry nature of emo­tion­al attach­ment in abu­sive rela­tion­ships. This long­ing high­lights the con­fus­ing real­i­ty that many abuse sur­vivors face—where the very per­son who inflict­ed pain on them is also some­one they desire, even after they’ve escaped the harm. The con­tra­dic­to­ry feel­ings of love and loss can coex­ist, cre­at­ing emo­tion­al tur­moil that is dif­fi­cult to untan­gle. The mother’s whis­pered wish for the return of the abuser under­scores the emo­tion­al depen­den­cy that can form in tox­ic rela­tion­ships, where love, fear, and trau­ma become inex­tri­ca­bly linked. This twist adds a lay­er of com­plex­i­ty to the nar­ra­tive, illus­trat­ing that heal­ing from abuse is not as sim­ple as remov­ing the abuser from the equa­tion.

The chap­ter con­cludes with the nar­ra­tor reflect­ing on their own pain, real­iz­ing that they, too, are hurt­ing “every­where.” This self-aware­ness cre­ates a pow­er­ful con­nec­tion between the nar­ra­tor and their moth­er, as they rec­og­nize that both are trapped in cycles of pain, suf­fer­ing from the same under­ly­ing trau­ma. This real­iza­tion is sig­nif­i­cant, as it high­lights how trau­ma can tran­scend gen­er­a­tions, with the nar­ra­tor now car­ry­ing the weight of their mother’s suf­fer­ing as well as their own. The emo­tion­al con­nec­tion between moth­er and child becomes a shared expe­ri­ence of hurt, one that is dif­fi­cult to escape. The chap­ter ulti­mate­ly con­veys the idea that the effects of abuse are far-reach­ing, leav­ing scars not only on those direct­ly involved but also on those who bear wit­ness to it. The haunt­ing echo of inter­con­nect­ed suf­fer­ing lingers, empha­siz­ing the emo­tion­al com­plex­i­ty of trau­ma and the dif­fi­cul­ties of heal­ing. Through this deep intro­spec­tion, the chap­ter pro­vides insight into the long-last­ing impact of abuse, and the slow, painful process of both con­fronting and over­com­ing it.