Crushed by Debt, Forbidden to Die

After my family is burdened with a debt of 5,000,000 dollars, I become the only person in the family who can no longer afford to "die". Dad is trampled in the mud by our creditors, protecting what's left of my school tuition fees even if it means breaking his fingers. He roars, "You can hit me, but don't you lay a finger on my daughter!" At that moment, Dad's small, hunched figure becomes a debt that I can never repay in my lifetime. Meanwhile, Mom kneels before the creditors, grovelling in the mud as she begs for a few more days of grace. Burdened by Mom and Dad's love for me, I drop out of school and go to work at a factory to make as much money as I can as quickly as possible to pay back the debt. Ultimately, my landlord kicks me out of my lodging on Christmas Eve. I'm also sporting a high fever in the snow, but my wages from the factory are still unpaid. I call Mom and beg her to transfer just 50 dollars to help me out. However, she doesn't sound concerned or anxious on the other end of the line and utters in disgust, "Haven't you gotten your wages already, Carolyn Swanson? "How dare you lie to us? Who taught you that? If you can't afford to buy the meds for your so-called fever, then you might as well just die!" Then, she hangs up on me cruelly. I grip my phone in my hands, watching the snow falling from the sky. My hands feel even colder than the icy ground at this point. Chapter 1 My phone dropped onto the icy ground, the screen shattering into pieces. However, I just ignored the blood I'd just coughed up and frantically plunged into the snow to retrieve the phone. The only thought in my mind was that replacing the screen would cost me another 200 dollars I couldn't afford. My fingers were all cut up from the broken glass shards on the screen as I shakily pressed the power button to turn it back on. The screen flashed green twice before going completely black. In that moment, instant panic completely overwhelmed me, even more than the cold. I was in deep trouble. The only way Mom and Dad could contact me was gone. And if they realized that they couldn't contact me, they would think that I ran away with my wages. They would then be extremely disappointed in me. I couldn't let that happen. I had to find a way to call them. I stumbled forward in the snow, heading toward the old pay phone at the corner of the street where there was still a yellow street light next to it. After stumbling into the booth, I dug out a single coin from the depths of my pocket. It was a dollar coin. It was also my very last dollar. I inserted the coin into the payphone, and it made a loud, clear clinking sound. Then, I shakily keyed in the phone number that I could memorize in my sleep. The call connected. I thought I heard the sound of people playing poker, accompanied by festive Christmas music playing softly in the background. "All-in!" "Call!" "Yes, I won this time! Pay up!" I could hear Mom's voice coming through the line so loudly that her voice became distorted in my ears. "By the way, Sandra, why hasn't your daughter transferred the money to you yet? Doesn't she know what time it is already?" someone teased Mom. Mom just huffed in disdain and said, "She's probably trying to see if she can keep the pitiful amount of money all for herself. Here, I'll bet you 500 bucks that she'll call me before midnight and cry about how hard she's having it on her own." The following laughter felt like a slap right to my face. I opened my mouth, but the words I wanted to say, "Mom, please save me," just died in my throat and turned into a mouthful of bloody froth. So, my life or death was nothing more than just a bet at their poker table. I silently put the phone back in its cradle. It snowed even harder afterward. The nearby bench was covered in a thick layer of snow. I hastily dusted the snow off and lay down on the bench in a curled-up position. My consciousness began to fade, and a strange heat rose within me. It was getting unusually warm for some reason. I thought I saw Dad, standing up with his back straight as he smiled and waved at me while wearing a sharp suit. However, in my daze, I watched as the falling snowflakes transformed into burning IOU slips before my eyes, the ashes flying in the wind. That was wonderful. If the debt was all paid up, would that mean that I no longer had to work myself to the bone like a lifeless robot anymore? When I regained my consciousness, I realized that the bone-chilling cold was already gone. Instead, I heard the sound of a crackling fire as the heat lapped toward me. I looked down and saw that I was standing on a very soft and cozy woollen carpet. There was a giant chandelier on the ceiling with real crystals on it, a leather couch in the center of the room, and a small fire gently licking at the coal in the fireplace nearby. Where was I? "Ugh, disgusting. The snow made my leather shoes all wet." A familiar voice suddenly appeared, and I looked up abruptly in surprise. It was Dad. He was standing in the entryway, kicking off his soaked leather shoes to the housekeeper, whom I later learned was called Jasmine Marsh. Mom was wearing a luxurious fur mink coat as she admired her reflection in the mirror with a brilliant diamond necklace around her neck. "Alright, stop complaining. I got real lucky tonight and won a couple hundred thousand dollars earlier. That's more than enough to pay for ten pairs of your shoes." I couldn't stop myself from smiling bitterly. Was this what they meant every time they told me that they couldn't even afford to cook that day? Just then, I heard the sound of claws against the polished marble floor. A tiny Pomeranian in designer pet clothing suddenly rushed out and ran straight toward the storeroom in the basement before tugging at something with all its strength. The item was a gray scarf that had been clumsily knit with rough, scratchy string. I had made that scarf myself last winter, using the cheapest string on sale I could find, spending two weeks on it. The pomeranian brought the gray scarf to Dad's feet and wagged its tail like it was asking to be petted and praised. Dad looked down, and disgust immediately appeared on his face. He hooked up the scarf with his toes like it was a dirty rag and tossed it straight into the fireplace, where the fire immediately ate it up with a loud crackle. The cheap nylon thread burst into sparks and let out an acrid smell. "Dirty trash like that should never appear at home again," he said, clapping his hands together. Mom glanced at the ashes in the fireplace and hesitated. "Greg, don't you think that we're being a little too harsh on Carol? It's Christmas Eve tonight, after all, and she just called earlier to say that she ran out of money…" I felt my heart skip a beat. Was Mom softening up to me? However, Dad interrupted her at once. "Harsh? You're only going to spoil the kid if you keep caving like this! You don't know anything at all!" He then went to the wine cabinet and poured himself a glass of red wine, swirling it slowly in his glass. "How can we cultivate her resilience and toughness unless we push her to the brink?" He took a sip of the red liquid, and a self-righteous look flashed in his eyes. "With how much she stands to inherit from us, how do you think she's going to manage things or help the family out in the future if she's nothing but a spoiled and pampered lady?" Mom sighed and picked up her own glass. "I'm just worried that she won't be able to hold out. After all, we've lied to her for years about the 5,000,000-dollar debt and forcing her to work three jobs a day. I can see that her health has been deteriorating." "She's going to have to endure it all, whether she likes it or not! That's her fate!" Dad set down his glass. His tone carried a hint of concern and disappointment. "Spare the rod and spoil the child. She will never be destined for greatness unless she suffers the trials and tribulations of life. We're only doing this for her own good. "Look at her over the past few years! Can't you see how much more obedient and resilient she'd become after we lied to her about the debt? "If she knew that she actually came from an extremely wealthy family, would she have worked as hard as she was right now? She would only turn out to be a useless piece of trash relying on us for survival and squandering all our money away later! "She just needs to endure this for a couple more years like this until she's fully trained, obedient, and hardworking, before we finally tell her the truth." Dad then broke into a condescending smile and said, "Then, we'll buy her a nice car and give her a welcome-back gift of a few hundred thousand dollars. She'll immediately think of us as the best parents in the world. She'll never forget our love and forever only sing praises of us to others too!" He clinked glasses with Mom. The crisp sound of the glasses clinking echoed throughout the living room. "Here, to our family's future success. Cheers!" I crouched in front of the fireplace, staring at the cheap nylon scarf that had already been reduced to ashes. The fire was already beginning to die down, leaving behind just a pile of black ash in its place. Soon, it was midnight, and fireworks exploded in the sky outside the window, the multicolored lights penetrating through my transparent body as people on the streets cheered and wished each other a "Merry Christmas" and "Happy Holidays". I just continued crouching in my corner, facing Mom and Dad who were still making plans about the future, and said lightly, "Merry Christmas." Chapter 2 Later that night, the underfloor heating in the villa was blazing hot, but Mom kept tossing and turning in bed, unable to go to sleep. She clutched her phone tightly. The screen lit up at her movements before dimming again. I stood by her bedside and saw her tap into my chat window, showing the receipt of my transfer record to her from last month for all 1,500 dollars of my monthly wages. The transfer note said, "Mom, please buy something nice to eat. And don't overwork yourself." Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Then, she began typing. "How are you—" She deleted it. "Answer me. Stop pretending—" She deleted it again. I just lay beside her pillow, looking at the deep frown lines on her brow, feeling as though my heart was being crushed. So, Mom hadn't been ignoring me after all. She was just waiting for me to text her. "I'm here, Mom," I said, moving my face closer to her and trying to touch the back of her hand. "Please don't frown like that. I'll feel bad. I'm not mad at you, Mom. I understand." However, Mom couldn't feel me at all. She just sighed and slammed the phone down heavily on the bedside table. "Still thinking about that brat?" Dad asked, turning over in bed, sounding massively displeased. Mom answered in a shaky voice, "There's a snowstorm outside, Greg. It's like five degrees out there. And the last time I saw Carol, she was only wearing an old cotton-padded coat, and the quilting was already all stiff. What if she gets terrible frostbite?" My nose tingled, and my tears dripped onto the bedding. So, Mom still remembered that the only winter clothing I owned was that old cotton coat. She still remembered that I was afraid of the cold. She was starting to waver. She grabbed her phone again and scrolled down to my contact number. However, right at that moment, Dad grabbed her wrist and said, "What the hell do you think you're doing? You can't just give in like that! "Carolyn Swanson is as tough as nails! She is as resilient as a garden weed! Have you already forgotten about our plan? This is a crucial moment!" Dad got up and continued, saying, "If you change your mind now and call her, all of the lessons we've been teaching her in the past would be wasted! "Also, we don't even know whether she was lying about really running out of money or not. Maybe she just doesn't want to give us her wages anymore after all! "So what if she catches a cold in this weather? She'll be fine after taking some meds. Just leave her be and ignore her for the whole night. She'll be calling and begging us on her knees early tomorrow morning. Mark my words." The room fell into a deathly silence. I watched as Mom's hand slowly fell into the blankets. Her phone screen went dim and turned off eventually. She listened to Dad and did just as he said in the end. She lay back down on the bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin. "You're right. That brat needs to be taught a lesson." At that moment, I felt colder than if I were lying in a pile of snow. "I'm sorry," I whispered to Mom and Dad. I couldn't possibly "learn my lesson" now anymore. I also couldn't call them in the morning to beg them for forgiveness like they wanted me to either. They were right. I was tough and resilient like a garden weed, but even weeds died in winter. Just as I was about to turn around to leave, Mom suddenly sat back up again. She ran barefoot to the wardrobe and began digging through the clothes, finally pulling out a bright red shopping bag. Nestled inside the bag was a matching bright red down jacket. It was a jacket that I had stared at through the shop window for a very long time when I was 18 years old, but I ultimately never asked Mom to buy it for me. As it turned out, she'd bought it for me afterward and kept it with her all this time. Mom stroked the jacket and mumbled, "Whatever. If Carol calls tomorrow and admits her fault, then I'll give this jacket to her. She is my daughter after all. I can't bear to let her freeze to death." She placed the down jacket on her bedside table as though she'd just completed a ritual and finally fell back into sound sleep. I floated over and vaguely touched the red down jacket. It looked really nice. Unfortunately, it was too late. If she'd just given it to me a little earlier, I wouldn't have needed to shiver to death in the snow just now. I crouched over Mom slightly and smiled bitterly at her. "Thank you, Mom. But I don't need the jacket anymore. I… I don't feel the cold anymore." The wind continued blowing against the window, making a howling sound as though someone were really crying. We were finally reunited tonight. I never received that phone call back from Mom or Dad, but I did receive a new down jacket that I could no longer wear. I guessed this still kind of counted as a Christmas present after all? Chapter 3 The snowstorm finally stopped on Christmas morning. Sunlight fell on the roof of the villa, making everything appear blinding white. Jasmine brought out a steaming hot breakfast of warm soup and caviar on toast, setting it on the dining table. Mom barely ate half her toast when she set it down and said, "That should be enough, Greg. It's Christmas today. Let's not push Carol too hard." Dad finished the last of his soup and nodded. "We ignored her all night. It's now time." After a short pause like he was weighing his options, he said, "We'll give her a way out." Then, they began putting on their "disguise" again. Mom changed into a worn-out jacket and deliberately left her hair unbrushed to look more haggard. Meanwhile, Dad changed into a work jacket with worn-out cuffs and mud-caked canvas shoes. They stood in front of the mirror in the entryway for a few seconds, repeatedly practising their frowning and sighing. "Let's go." "Let's go see that brat." The heater in the villa was still humming as the door closed behind them. I floated after them, watching their masterful performance as a bitter feeling welled up inside me. Anyone would have thought that they were a poor and desperate couple who were driven to such a situation by their own child—if they didn't see the Porsche keys in Dad's pocket. They didn't have to walk far to find me. After all, I had died on a park bench that was less than two blocks away from home. I looked like a pile of snow on the bench from afar. I kind of also looked like trash that someone else had left behind and abandoned. However, I was very sure that it was me. Dad first saw the pair of old running shoes on my feet that were sticking out from under the snow pile. Most of the fabric had worn off, and the laces were absolutely filthy. He'd bought them for 30 bucks at the flea market last year for me and even said that it was too expensive. When he saw that I wasn't moving, Dad stopped in his tracks. He'd imagined that I would be crying and wailing as I ran up to him and apologized for my wrongdoings, but that didn't happen. He frowned extremely hard and yelled at me in a suppressed, angry voice. "Look at her! She's even learned to play dead just to make us give her more money!" Mom frowned as well. "She's getting more and more sly by the day. How dare she try to use this tactic on us! What a good thing that we're dressed just as disheveled as she is. If not, anyone would think that we'd been abusing her after all." Some people who'd come out for morning walks began pointing their fingers in my direction, whispering among each other. "Why isn't that person moving? Has she frozen to death?" Dad's face turned bright red when he heard the passersby talking about me. He rushed up to the bench and began yelling at me from five feet away. "Carolyn Swanson! Stop playing dead and get up now! It's Christmas morning! Stop being such a killjoy!" The white figure on the bench didn't budge at all. There wasn't even any vapor escaping from my nose or mouth. Yet, Dad still thought that I was ignoring him, and the anger immediately rushed to his head. "Fine. You're not afraid of anything, are you? Playing tricks on us, are you?" He marched over the pile of snow and yanked me up by the collar of my worn-out shirt. "Get up!" However, the "me" he just yanked up didn't wake with a fright or cry out in pain. Instead, my body was rock solid, frozen in the exact curled-up position from last night. Dad ended up dragging me down to the ground. My frozen body fell to the ground with a muffled thud. That wasn't the sound of flesh against the ice. It was frozen meat against the icy ground. My wool beanie fell off, revealing my completely blue face underneath that was heavily dusted with white snow. My eyes were still wide open, and my dull, grey eyes were staring out ahead unblinkingly. I had been staring at the old payphone booth. Dad's arm froze in mid-air. The curse word he was about to yell at me caught in his throat, and he made a gurgling sound. Mom came over with the shopping bag in her hands, prepared to act magnanimous with me. "Alright, Greg, Carol already knows that she was wrong—" Her gaze then fell on my pale face in the snow. The shopping bag fell to the ground with a soft thud. The bright red down jacket fell onto the pristine white snow like a glaring pool of blood.