Chapter 1

My father was a raging alcoholic. Every time he got drunk, he'd abuse me and my brother, Leo.

Afterward, he’d always throw a few hundred dollars at me as compensation.

I accepted it calmly, sometimes even buying him his favorite greasy burger and a cheap bottle of whiskey.

The neighbors tried to call the police for me, but I shook my head.

I touched my bruised arm and smiled faintly.

"If he hits me twice more, Leo will be hit twice less."

Until that night, when he got drunk again and pushed Leo off a tall building at a construction site.

Robert’s slap landed, and I heard the crisp snap of teeth colliding. One side of my face burned.

My mouth filled with the taste of iron.

A banknote fluttered to my feet.

"Take it! Take the damn money!"

"This is your old man's generosity, go buy something good to fix yourself up!"

Robert’s neck was thick and red, his chest heaving, spittle flying onto my face.

I said nothing, bending down to fumble for the money on the ground with fingers still swollen from being stepped on.

The money was stained with my and Leo’s blood.

But I knew, money was the only thing that could buy us what we needed.

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth with my sleeve, lifted my eyelids, and stared fixedly at him.

"What are you staring at?! Stare at me like that again, and I'll gouge your eyes out and pickle them in booze! Now, go get me my alcohol!"

He roared, then slumped onto the blackened wicker chair.

The chair groaned under the strain.

In the corner, Leo cowered behind the old kitchen counter, trembling.

His arm was red and swollen, covered in purple belt marks.

I walked over, squatted down, and touched his burning wound with my cold fingers.

Leo flinched sharply, lifting his head. His eyes were filled with hatred.

"Sarah… it hurts…" he squeezed out a groan.

"Bear with it," I whispered into his ear, my voice icy.

"It will be over soon."

I stood up, clutching the fifty-dollar bill in my hand, and walked out into the dusty wind.

The convenience store had a strange smell. I slapped the money onto the counter.

"Mr. Henderson, I need a gallon of the nastiest rotgut."

"The kind that feels like it’s burning a hole through your gut."

The owner looked at the slap mark on my face.

"Oh, Sarah, child, why do you put yourself through this?"

"Your father beats you like this, and you still serve him?"

"Yeah, that Robert is an animal."

"If I were you, I’d have put rat poison in his drink long ago."

The men hanging around were just spitting and talking loudly.

I ignored them, watching expressionlessly as Mr. Henderson poured the murky liquid into a plastic jug.

Next door, I bought two pounds of fatty cuts of pork.

When I returned home, Robert was already passed out on the table, snoring like a freight train.

I slammed the jug of liquor onto the table.

The dull thud startled him awake. He suddenly sprang up.

"My booze! Where's my booze!"

"Did you, you wretched girl, steal my liquor?!"

He snatched the jug, pulled off the cap, and guzzled it down.

The murky liquid streamed down his stubble, wetting his greasy undershirt.

"Dad, here's some braised pork, eat it while it's hot."

"It's all fatty, smells delicious."

I pushed the plate of pork in front of him, my voice submissive.

Robert grabbed a piece of fatty meat and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing until his chin was dripping with grease.

"Mmm… Sarah's so devoted… much better than that bastard brother of yours…"

"That bastard is nothing but a burden…"

As he spoke, he suddenly raised a hand and slapped himself hard across the face.

The sharp crack echoed in the empty shack, making Leo in the corner flinch.

"Dad's at his wit's end… Dad truly is at his wit's end…"

"Sarah, don't blame your old man…"

He burst into tears, snot and tears smearing his face.

I stood in the shadows, watching him with cold eyes.

I pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper from my pocket – an accident insurance policy.

In the dim light, I checked the effective date over and over, a cold smile playing on my lips.

Three more days.

Just three more days, and his life would be worth something.

Robert cried enough, then took another large gulp of alcohol, letting out a burp that sprayed onto my face.

"Sarah… you drink too… it won't hurt anymore if you drink…"

"You'll see your mom if you drink…"

He held the bottle out to me, his bloodshot eyes staring.

I quietly watched the vein in his neck throbbing wildly.

I calculated in my mind how much longer that vein would beat.

"I won't drink, Dad. I don't hurt."

I said softly.

The shack was damp and stuffy, filled with a foul smell. I rubbed balm on Leo's back wounds.

With each stroke, his muscles tensed, but he bit his lip and didn't utter a sound.