Chapter 4

In the afternoon, some convenience stores opened. I went to buy some food.

As soon as I came out, I heard a familiar voice: "Clara!"

My heart skipped a beat.

I saw Richard standing not far away, smoking a cigarette.

I turned and walked away, my steps getting faster and faster, almost running.

"Clara! Stop right there!" His voice chased after me.

I turned into a narrow alley, my heart pounding like a drum.

Just as I caught my breath, at the other end of the alley, the men he'd brought blocked my way.

I was trapped.

They were like two walls, trapping me in the middle.

Richard snatched the bag from my hands. The bread I'd just bought scattered all over the ground.

"Come back with us!"

"I won't!" I tried hard to shake off his hand.

"You don't have a choice!" He grabbed my arm, his grip so strong it hurt my bones.

The two of them dragged me back, half pulling, half carrying.

When we entered the house,

I saw Mom lying on the couch eating cookies.

"Here's your girl." He pushed me forward.

"Kneel down!" Richard shouted and kicked me to the ground.

I lifted my head and glared at Mom with hatred.

"What are you glaring at?" Mom sat up. "Raised you all these years for nothing? My leg is hurt this badly and you run faster than a rabbit! Did a dog eat your conscience?"

I smiled. "You're talking to me about conscience? Did your conscience go with that four million to your two precious kids?"

As I spoke, I looked at her perfectly fine legs. "You broke your leg but you can sit up? Why isn't it in a cast and elevated?"

"How dare you talk back!" Mom slapped me. I immediately tasted blood in my mouth.

Richard looked at me with disgust. "Keeping this brat around is just trouble. Might as well..."

He lowered his voice, but I heard every word clearly:

"I know some people in rural areas who are desperate for wives."

"This girl may only have a high school diploma, but she's pretty enough. We could get twenty or thirty thousand for her. That money would be enough to keep you comfortable in your old age."

A chill ran through my body. I looked at them in disbelief.

Mom pressed her lips together and lowered her eyelids.

From her throat came a muffled: "...That could work."

My whole body trembled. I was filled with hatred.

I struggled to get up and saw the fruit knife next to the fruit bowl on the coffee table.

They were still quietly discussing the details of selling me.

Just as Mom reached out to grab me again,

I lunged forward, grabbed the knife, and held it against my own throat.

I screamed: "You want money, don't you? You want to sell me?!"

My eyes were red as I looked at each of their faces:

"If you keep pushing me, I'll die right here and now. Let's see if the police can figure out that you drove me to it!"

"Clara! Are you crazy! Put down the knife!" Mom's voice trembled with fear.

I smiled.

I knew she wasn't worried about me.

She was worried that if something happened to me, it might affect Derek and Jessica's reputation.

Holding the fruit knife, I backed toward the door.

My eyes never left them:

"Don't follow me."

"Anyone who follows me, I'll fight to the death."