James
I stood in the middle of that filthy warehouse with my fists clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms. The place reeked of rust, old oil, and stale cigarette smoke that clung to everything. A single hanging bulb swung above us, throwing long, ugly shadows across the concrete floor. My heart hammered against my ribs like it wanted to break out and run. I kept telling myself to breathe, to stay calm, but it wasn’t working.
My father wouldn’t even look at me. He stood a few feet away, pale as a ghost, sweat dripping down the sides of his face. The man who was supposed to protect me had sold me out instead. Years of his gambling, his stupid loans from the wrong people, and his endless excuses had finally caught up. I’d tried to help worked extra shifts at the garage, gave him every
