Broken contract

chapter 1

In the quiet shadows of grief, two months had passed since the death of my mother. The

weight of her absence still lingers in the air reminding me constantly of how much I miss her.

In moments of deep longing, I find comfort in cradling myself with my mother's clothes, as if

her essence lingers in the fabric, offering a fleeting sense of her presence beside me. After

the passing of my mother, my dad has been drinking and squandering money at casinos. He

gambles our money away like it's nothing. While I understand he is grieving, it's difficult for

me to suppress feelings of resentment towards him for doing this. If it weren't for me taking

as many shifts at the grocery store, my two younger sisters would have no food or roof over

their heads.

I don't like to think of how miserable my life has been. Instead, I distract myself by taking a

walk back from work. The air is cool and the setting sun embraces the sky with its orange

hues. For a while, I can feel my heart feeling lighter, the wind kissing my cheeks as I stroll

towards my house. The lightness in my heart escapes as I see three black SUVs surrounding

the place. This can't be good. This ominous feeling gets worse as I can hear my father's

voice, pleading for forgiveness. My eyes widen. What has my father done now? Upon

entering, I see men pointing guns at my father and one man, in particular, sitting down with

his legs crossed and his elbow leaning on the armchair as he rests his head with his hand. He

almost looks like he's bored of this situation, of my dad. My siblings are in the corner of the

room, giving comfort to each other as tears roll down their cheeks. Even as my presence is

noted, the men continue to fixate their guns on my dad who is kneeling on the floor still

begging. The man in the chair turns his head, studying me. He is clad entirely in black, from

head to toe, with impeccably slicked-back hair. He looks young, maybe in his late 20's. I peel

my eyes off him and run to my sisters, quickly examining them for any bruises. The tears in

their eyes are enough to make me feel rage. These poor kids just lost their mom at the age of

nine, and now they are being cornered, crying for our useless excuse of a father. I shout,

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?"The estranged man chuckles as if he finds the entire situation

amusing. He straightens up in his chair and says, "Why don't you ask your dad? Maybe he

can give you an answer." His amusement is evident, and the once-bored expression on his

face is nowhere to be seen. I have unintentionally turned this into entertainment for him.

"Dad, what is happening?" I ask coldly. While he has hurt me before, this feels like an entirely

new level of pain. He avoids making eye contact with me. "For God's sake, Dad, what have

you done?" I'm furious, seething with rage. Eventually, he musters the courage to look at me.

"Amelia, please forgive me, please!" he pleads, groveling at my feet. As he moves, so do the

guns – these men seem robotic, creating an eerie atmosphere. I gaze down at my father as

he cries, "I owe them money, and now they will kill me if I don't pay them back." "Dad, how

much money do you owe? Maybe I can pay it back." I've been saving money for the past

month, working after I dropped out of school – the only way to survive life when my father

seemed to have no care for his family anymore. "Yes, tell her how much you owe me," I glare

at him as he speaks; everything about him irritates me. He notices my disdain towards him.

Instead of appearing angry, he smiles. Who is he, and how substantial is this amount that he

has the power to make my father behave like this?

Finally standing from the chair, my eyes are trained on him as he walks toward me. It's only

when he is mere inches away that I realize how tall he is. I am tall, but next to him, I feel

small. "You see, my father has been sick and has handed over the business to me. While

going through some things, I noticed that your father owes my father money – 40k. He

borrowed it to kickstart a business that turned out to be unsuccessful, and now he has to

pay back the loan." My heart breaks as I hear the amount. I vaguely remember my dad

quitting his job around eight months ago to follow his dreams of having his own company.

During that time, my mother argued with him frequently, and I wasn't aware of why they

fought so often. Now I know why. "My father was generous enough to let this man walk free

for this long; after all, he is a sick man. But I am not my father; I am not generous," he says as

he cocks the gun to my head. My sisters' cries grow louder, and Brianna pleads with a

fervent "no." Pushing the fear aside, I summon the courage to speak. "Give me two weeks,

and I will get you your 40k." He steps closer, the scent of his cologne enveloping me. "Do I

look like a joke to you? Do you think I'll give you two weeks, just enough time to run away? I

give you two days—only two days." "Two days is impossible to pay you 40k," I say, on the

verge of breaking down. "What if I can't pay you back?" "That's something you don't want to

find out, do you?" he replies, his tone ominous. He releases the gun from my temple and

narrows his eyes, fixating on me. "I will be back after two days at 8 in the morning. I will be

expecting my money," he declares. With a signal from his hand, his men leave the living room,

and he is the last one there. He continues to stare at me until finally peeling his eyes away

and walking out. 

My body crashes to the ground, burdened with fear and anger. Numbness starts to settle in

again, a necessary shield for what lies ahead. I turn my head towards my sisters, deliberately

avoiding eye contact with my father—this predicament is his doing. Summoning strength, I

stand on shaky legs, still in shock from what just transpired. I rush to the bedroom to pack,

not for myself but for my sisters. This place is no longer safe for them. I have a plan: I'll leave

them with my friend Brittany until this is resolved. I pack enough to last them more than two

days. Holding their bags tightly, I quickly return to their side, trying to provide comfort.

Brianna wears a blank stare, and Stacy buries her head between her legs. "Everything is

going to be okay. Let's go to Brittany's house. Remember how much fun it is there? So many

games." Stacy finally looks at me, and Brianna's blank stare turns into tears. "Are you coming

to stay with us?" asks Brianna. "Yes, I will, but not right away. I have to do something first," I

lie, hating the deception. Deep down, I know this might be the last time I see them. There's

no way I can get 40k in two days, and the thought of what might happen to me if I fail to pay

hangs over me like a dark cloud.