Chapter 3

3

Huddled inside the blankets were clusters of vipers, their tongues flickering, their bodies vibrant with warning colors.

One of them had already burrowed deep into the cotton of his quilt.

Paralyzed with terror, my father scrambled back and dialed emergency services.

Because he was terrified there might be more, he couldn't sleep for days.

By now, his mind and body were completely shattered.

I knew the time was right. After work the next day, I took my father to a hotel, and we never went back.

In the room, he finally sighed in defeat. "Why did she turn into this?"

I answered coolly, "She was always this way. You just used to do whatever she wanted, so you never saw it."

"Elara, it's just twenty thousand. Why don't we just give it to her?" He was starting to cave.

I couldn't let that happen. He needed to see the rot in that entire family.

I shook my head. "You think she just wants twenty thousand? She's after the whole hundred thousand. This is just step one. If you give in now, she'll do the same thing again and again until she's drained you dry."

My father nodded slowly, finally understanding.

When my mother returned to an empty house, she went absolutely insane.

She called me, screaming the most vile insults at my father, me, and even Grandma.

You'd think we owed her the world.

She used to have software on her phone to track Dad's location, but I had quietly deleted it.

She couldn't find us.

So she vented by leaving hysterical, abusive voicemails.

My father listened to them, his expression hardening, his face turning solemn and distant.

"I'm telling you, if you don't give me that money, I'll make your life a living hell!" she shrieked.

I listened from the other end of the line.

"If you don't come back tomorrow, I'm going to your mother's house and telling everyone what a lowlife you are!"

That did it. My father snapped. "A lowlife? Brenda, look at me. In all these years of marriage, I've never done you wrong. From the day we married to now, you've handed over nearly a million to your family."

"Why do you think we have no savings? My year-end bonuses, my raises―all gone to your brothers. There were years we couldn't even afford Christmas dinner, and it was my mother who helped us out. Do you have any conscience at all?"

My father was truly grieving now.

But she kept on screaming.

I took my broken father out for a real meal, then to a car dealership.

He'd wanted a car for years, but every time he saved enough, one uncle needed a wedding funded, or the other needed to pay off a business failure.

Even when he didn't want to pay, my mother always forced him to.

At the upscale restaurant, Dad kept piling food onto my plate. "Eat up, Elara. You never get enough at home."

It was true. Every time he took us out, my mother would invite both of her brothers' families.

My cousins would order the most expensive items on the menu, pile the table high, and then stuff their faces until they were bursting.

Even then, my aunts would pack the leftovers to take home.

My father would pay half his monthly salary just to feed them, while we ended up eating nothing but greens.

That day, I bought a car with the first hundred thousand. My father's eyes lit up, but he still begged me to save the money for a house.

I pulled out another card with a hundred thousand on it and told him I'd actually won two hundred thousand. That was the only way he finally let me buy him the car he loved.

"The car is bought, and the money is spent. Even if your mother tries to torture us, it's too late. Let's go home," he said, eager to return.

When my mother saw the new car, she stared at it for a long time, said nothing, and went inside.

She wasn't done. I knew that.

But if my father didn't hit rock bottom, he wouldn't let go. So, I let her do her worst.

The next morning, Dad woke up happy, ready to drive his new car to work―only to find it completely unrecognizable.