Chapter 2

I ran into the cramped living room, the ticket clutched in my hand. “Mom! Dad! Ethan! Wake up!” They stumbled out, blinking, annoyed. “What is it, Maya?” Brenda’s voice was thin. “I won! I won the Powerball!” I waved the ticket. “Five million dollars!” Silence. Not the cheers I expected. Not the relief. Ethan’s eyes narrowed. Mark’s face went blank. Brenda’s expression was the worst. It was… cold. Terrified. “What?” I faltered. “Let me see that,” Ethan said, his voice suddenly hard. He snatched the ticket. His eyes scanned it, then darted to Mark, then Brenda. A look passed between them. A look I’d never seen. “She’s lying,” Brenda whispered, but her eyes were fixed on the ticket in Ethan’s hand. “It’s real,” I insisted, confused. “We’re rich! All our problems are solved!” “This changes things,” Mark said, his voice a low rumble. Not in a good way. Ethan suddenly lunged for the small, rusty wood stove we barely used. He tried to shove the ticket inside. “No!” I screamed, grabbing his arm. He pushed me back, hard. “You don’t understand, you stupid girl!” Brenda shrieked, her voice surprisingly strong. Mark grabbed me from behind, his hands like iron vises on my arms. “What are you doing?” I cried, struggling. “It’s our money!” “It’s a problem,” Ethan snarled, wrestling the ticket from my grip as I fought Mark. He couldn’t get the stove open with one hand. He looked around, frantic. Then he started tearing it. “Stop!” I screamed, kicking back at Mark. He grunted, his grip tightening. Brenda grabbed a heavy glass ashtray from the side table. “She can’t tell anyone,” Brenda said, her eyes wide and feral. She advanced on me. Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through my confusion. They weren’t happy. They were horrified. They dragged me, fighting and screaming, towards the back door. Towards the old storm cellar. It was damp, rat-infested. We kept the guard dogs down there, chained and hungry. “No! Please!” They threw me down the rickety steps. I landed hard on the dirt floor. The dogs, snarling, lunged. Their chains strained. Ethan unclipped them. “Good dogs,” he cooed. The pain was unbelievable. Tearing. Ripping. My last thought was a bewildered, agonizing, “Why?” Then, blackness.