As I looked at my sister and my mother, a quietly powerful realization settled over me. We had survived. For the first time, survival was no longer the only goal. Living, truly living, seemed possible at last, or at least that was what I thought.
That night, seated at the dining room table with my family, I could not help but recall all the moments of the past, each one flashing vividly in my mind. Tears streamed down my face without warning.
Harry, Harry, why are you crying? My mother's voice was gentle, full of concern.
Did someone bully you at school today? What happened, brother? Cecilia reached across the table, stretching her hands toward me.
I wiped my face quickly, forcing the words out before the sobs could take over. I am fine. Nothing is happening with me.
No, you are not. Your nose twitches when you lie. Tell me what is wrong. My mother's voice was steady but insistent.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight, and whispered, I saw Alice, Otis's daughter, in school today.
The words barely left my lips before my mother's expression shifted from concern to fear, and then to quiet rage. Cecilia froze mid-bite, and the room fell into a heavy silence.
What happened between the two of you? My mother asked, her voice trembling as she tried to maintain control.
It was nothing much at first. I was annoyed at her, but she apologized. She explained that she wanted to speak up but could not because she was scared. Cecilia told her to stay quiet and treat me nicely each time I visited her mother's shop while my sister and I went out looking for money.
Did you meet by coincidence, or did she already know where you were? My mother's voice quavered with unease.
I shook my head slightly, still feeling the weight of tension pressing down on us. I saw her at the cafeteria and went to say hello. That is all.
Cecilia's voice trembled as she lowered her eyes, fighting back tears. The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, pressing down on all of us. Harrison and our mother sat still, listening, hearts heavy.
That night, when Dad told us to go out and bring a daily quota, I had asked him what kind of work I could do. But he just told me to figure it out myself, she began slowly, her voice shaking.
She took a deep, shaky breath, shame glossing her eyes.
But early that morning, before he went out to hurt you, Harry, he came to my room. He woke me up and told me something strange. He said he owed his former boss, Otis, a huge sum of money, and he could not pay it back. So he sold me instead.
My fists clenched instinctively, and my mother's hands tightened into fists of their own, anger coiling in her posture.
He took me to Otis, offering me as a way to repay his debt. Otis accepted. He said I would work at his bar in central town. My father did not hesitate. He simply agreed.
Then we returned home. That is when he came for you, saying you too had to find a way to bring him money.
Cecilia paused, her voice breaking as she continued. At the bar, after work began, I asked Otis if the debt was cleared. He laughed, saying it was not fully settled. I begged him, pleaded with him to treat you kindly. I told him you would be struggling to survive out there. He agreed, but only if I became his personal toy.
A bitter silence fell over the room.
We all sat, still and heavy with the weight of her words. The past that we had endured was raw, open, and painful. The shadows of those nights lingered in the corners of the dining room, and though the house itself was safe, the memories made the air feel suffocating.
I could feel my chest tighten. My mind swirled with a storm of anger, grief, and helplessness. And yet, beneath it all, a flicker of resolve began to spark. We had survived, but surviving had come at such a cost.
Cecilia lowered her eyes, silently awaiting my response, as our mother's hands rested on the table, knuckles white, as though bracing for what we would do next.