INTRODUCTION:

"Julia, the money's gone."

"What money?"

In a sheepish tone, Mom explains, "We used the 68 grand you left with us to help your brother buy a house for his upcoming wedding."

At that moment, dread swallows me whole.

Just last week, I left my hard-earned savings with my parents to keep it from being discovered by my abusive husband. But now...

I choke up, and my voice trembles as I speak. "Mom, that is the only money I have for myself after the divorce!"

My father scolds me from the side. "Why are you getting a divorce in the first place?"

I shoot back, "You know he has been hitting me. If I don't leave him, he will beat me to death!"

Dad slams the table angrily. "All women put up with stuff like that just fine! If your brother can't get married, it will be the end of our lineage. That's the more pressing problem!"

I look at them, my blood running cold.

"Take that 68 grand as my final payment to you for raising me. We'll cut ties right here and now. In the future, don't ever come to me and ask me to support you when you grow old."

CONTENT

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By the time I got back to that so-called home, it was already dark outside.

The sound of the key sliding into the lock made my palms go cold.

When I pushed the door open, my husband, Carl Blackburn, was on the couch drinking. The TV was blaring loudly enough to shake the room.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked without even turning around.

Without answering, I headed straight for the bedroom.

"Stop right there!" The thud of the beer bottle hitting the coffee table made me flinch.

He staggered to his feet. "Where's the 68 grand? Hand it over."

My chest tightened. So he knew.

"It's gone." I heard my numb voice. "My dad gave it to my brother to buy a house."

Carl paused and finally looked at me with a derisive laugh. "I don't care who you give it to. I just want the money. You hid it to divorce me, didn't you?"

As he stepped closer, the smell of alcohol and smoke hit my face. "Go ahead. Divorce me if you want. But every cent of the money is mine."

I clenched my empty pockets.

Throughout these five years of marriage, I had secretly filed for divorce ten times. Nine of those times, Carl found out, beat me nearly to death, and withdrew the divorce petition in my name.

The only time a case actually reached court, it was dismissed due to insufficient evidence of domestic violence.

I thought about calling the police, but I didn't dare. Carl said that if I called them, my naked pictures would be all over the streets.

I was scared.

Three days later, my phone rang.

"Julia, I heard you're cutting ties with your family?" It was my aunt, Lydia Palmer, the one who had always doted on me the most.

"Yeah."

"Oh, honey, don't say things in anger," Aunt Lydia said urgently. "Your parents just weren't thinking straight. Leonel's wedding is indeed a big deal—"

"Aunt Lydia," I interrupted her and switched to a video call. "Look at my arm."

I saw her gasp on the other end. "W-what happened?"

"He did this," I said, dropping my sleeve. "The bruise on my collarbone from the last time you saw me hasn't even healed yet, and now I have a new one."

"Oh my god…" Aunt Lydia's voice trembled. "But Leonel—"

"Leonel was 60 grand short on his house, so Dad gave him all the savings I'd been keeping for my divorce," I said numbly while leaning against the cold wall.

"But Leonel's your brother—"

"Aunt Lydia," I cut her off, my voice cracking. "I've been married for five years, earning six grand a month. And I've been getting beaten for those five whole years."

"I know you've suffered."

"I saved up the 68 grand for a long time, just so I could divorce Carl."

I stared at the stains on the concrete wall. "Now, the money's gone and I can't buy my way out."

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The other end of the line went silent.

"Last week, I told Dad that if I don't divorce Carl, I might die out there. Guess what he said?"

Aunt Lydia tried to calm me down. "He was just angry, Julia."

"He said, 'If you're going to die, die in Carl's house'." I forced a smile, but it pulled at the wound, making me gasp in pain.

Aunt Lydia sighed. "Your dad's just worried that Leonel can't find—"

"I get it," I interrupted her. "So I need them to understand something too. From now on, my life has nothing to do with them anymore."

That night, Carl kicked me out of the house again just because "the food was too salty".

I curled up on the cold stairs in the hallway, listening to him rant inside, tearing the place apart, and accusing me of hiding more money.

I knew that if I didn't leave now, the next time he beat me unconscious, I might not wake up.

The next morning, I went to the pawn shop in the southern part of the city.

I reached into my inner pocket and pulled out a small cloth pouch. Inside was an emerald ring Grandma had secretly slipped to me before she passed away.

"I'd like to pawn this." I slid the ring through the glass window.

The appraiser gave me a quote.

It was much lower than I expected, but I didn't hesitate.

…

Aunt Lydia called again.

My mother, Rylie Palmer, probably couldn't swallow her pride, so she must have sent Aunt Lydia to act as the mediator.

I was pressing an ice pack to the corner of my mouth when my phone vibrated on the table.

"Julia, the injuries you showed me in the video…" Aunt Lydia's voice was choked. "I couldn't sleep at all last night."

The melting ice water dripped down my chin.

"But the date for Leonel's wedding has already been set." She paused before saying, "The bride's family said they'll call off the engagement if he doesn't have a house. Your parents are just worried."

So she wasn't feeling sorry for me.

"Aunt Lydia," I cut in. "Carl hit me again yesterday. Before he left this morning, he said if I don't have the money tonight, he'll throw me off the balcony."

I pulled my hem back down. "Aunt Lydia, should I wait to be thrown off, or is it better to jump now and get it over with?"

There was a long silence on the other end. Then came a muffled sob. "Where are you? I'll come to get you."

"There's no need." I hung up the phone.

That night, I didn't jump.

I slammed the four grand I got from pawning the ring down on the table in front of Carl.

"Take the four grand first."

My voice was so calm that it almost felt unfamiliar to me. "As for the remaining 64 grand, I'll write an IOU and calculate it with bank interest. After you sign the divorce papers, I'll pay you back monthly."

He flipped through the cash and eyed me with a smirk, like a predator sizing up its prey. "Oh? Look at you, getting smart now, huh? Even learned how to write an IOU?"

"It's fine if you don't want to sign."

I pointed at the balcony. "I'll jump from there right now. You won't get a single penny and will end up in a mess."

Carl stared at me, as if weighing the truth behind my words.

Maybe it was the cold emptiness in my eyes that finally scared him, or maybe he'd just figured out that pushing me to the edge wasn't worth more than an IOU.

He sneered and grabbed a pen. "Fine, we'll divorce. But the interest is going to be what I say."

I didn't flinch as I signed.

…

Once the divorce certificate was in my hands, I started packing.

On moving day, Mom showed up.

She stood downstairs, watching the movers while a few worn-out woven bags piled at my feet.

That was all I had left.

I had agreed to leave with nothing during the divorce, so all I took were a few clothes.

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"You're really going to move into a place like that?" Mom frowned, eyeing the run-down building.

"Yes," I replied.

"Getting divorced is embarrassing enough, and now you're moving out? It'll just give people more to talk about."

Her sharp voice made the movers glance over at us.

I zipped up the woven bag without looking back. "Embarrassing? Why didn't you think it was embarrassing when you took my 68 grand?"

Mom grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. "That money was for Leonel's house. We raised you all these years, and you're disowning us over a little bit of money?"

"Mom, that was the money I saved up after five years of getting beaten."

I yanked my arm free. "When you took the money, did you ever think about how I'd survive after?"

"You still have your salary, don't you? And your husband—"

"He's not my husband," I cut her off. "And I've already told you, since you took that 68 grand, don't come to me asking for help with your retirement."

Mom shook with rage. "How could I give birth to such an ungrateful daughter? What a waste it was raising you!"

"Yeah, it was a waste."

I turned to the movers. "Sir, please start loading the stuff."

When I was halfway to my place, my father, Troy Herring, called.

"You're really not going to care about us anymore?" He got straight to the point, his voice cold and harsh.

I replied, "Consider that 68 grand an advance for your retirement fund."

"Are you crazy? What's that amount going to do? More than 20 years of raising you is worth just 68 grand?"

I gripped my phone until my knuckles turned white. "Dad, were you there for me when Carl almost killed me? Now you suddenly remember me?"

"That's a different matter. Supporting your parents is a child's duty!"

"Is taking my money also your duty?" I shot back. "Supporting your son and helping him buy a house is your duty. But what about me?"

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. Then came Dad's biting voice. "If you don't take care of us, I'll take you to court!"

"Go ahead," I said. "Let the judge decide. Let's see if there's a law that says parents can take their daughter's life savings to buy their son a house."

Before I hung up, I added, "Don't forget, you're the ones who didn't want me as your daughter first."

My new apartment was on the outskirts of town. It was less than 100 square feet, but at least it was clean.

I squatted on the floor and started unpacking. When I shoved the last shirt into the closet, my phone buzzed again.

It was my brother, Leonel Herring.

"Julia, Mom and Dad are so upset that they're sick. Can't you just swallow your pride for once?"

"Sick?" I laughed. "From a guilty conscience, maybe? Or are they just worried that now there's no one left to look after them in their old age?"

"How could you say that? I'll pay you back the 68 grand—"

I cut him off. "When? When I'm dead?"

There was a pause on the other end.

I hung up and stared out the window, watching the sky grow darker.

This time, I could finally turn off my phone without worrying about being woken up by a fist in my face or another call asking for money.

…

When I found out about the trouble at home, I was busy wallpapering my new place.

The old walls had stains left by the previous tenants, like a past that could never be wiped clean.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and an unknown number flashed across the screen.

"Hello?"

"Julia." It was Leonel's voice. "This is my new number. Save it."

I didn't say anything. I just kept brushing wallpaper paste on the wall.

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