The Debt of Blood

After the finals, I estimated my score. It was about 20 points higher than my best practice test.

Winterford Institute of Technology. I had it in the bag.

The admission letter arrived on a day my dad was not home.

When I took the envelope from the mail carrier, with the words [Winterford Institute of Technology] printed on it, my hands were shaking. I hid it at the very bottom of my backpack. Then, like always, I picked up a mop and started cleaning the floor.

I did not say a word about it. Not until the day before school started.

That day, I packed everything I owned into one bag. Then, I set my acceptance letter and my ticket on the dining table.

"I'm leaving after dinner. I'm going to Winterford Institute of Technology."

My dad was in the middle of serving Brian a piece of stewed beef. His hand shook, and the piece of meat slipped from his fork onto the table.

He grabbed the acceptance letter, staring at the school name for a long time, then looked at me in disbelief.

"Winterford? Why are you going all the way out there? Are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea how expensive that is? I'm telling you, the local state college is just fine. It's close to home and a lot cheaper!"

"I'm going there."

"And what about your tuition?" he said with an icy laugh, like he had finally found my weak spot. "Don't expect a single cent from me. Let's see how you're going to pull this off."

Brian chimed in from the side, grinning. "Exactly! No money, and you still want to go to college? Winterford Institute of Technology? Keep dreaming!"

I ignored him and pulled a heavy metal box out from under my bed.

Inside was a stack of cash. Ones, fives, tens, and twenties, with a few hundred-dollar bills mixed in, piled into a small mound.

Every dollar I had ever earned. Paid for with sweat, bruises, and whatever pride I had left, starting from elementary school.

I had 8,365 dollars and 50 cents.

"Th…that much money… When did you save all this?" My dad stared at the pile, his eyes wide.

"From the day you told me I had to earn every cent myself."

I stood up and slung my already packed bag over my shoulder.

"This is enough for my first year's tuition and transportation. The rest, I'll earn on my own."

"Chester!" My dad shot to his feet, his face dark with anger. "You think you can just leave? What about this family? Who's going to do all the work?"

That question was the funniest joke I had ever heard. I turned back, looked at his furious face, and for the first time, I smiled.

"Dad, you can hire another hourly worker. However, I doubt you'll find one as cheap and efficient as me."

With that, I pulled open the door and walked out without looking back.

Behind me, his voice exploded into a hysterical shout.

"Chester! If you've got the guts to leave, then don't ever come back! I'll be waiting to see you starve out there! Don't come crawling back to beg me when that happens!"

I had just reached the bottom of the building, ready to run toward freedom, when a scream came from behind me.

"You can leave, but the money stays!"

I spun around. My dad and Brian were charging down the stairs like they had lost their minds.

"You're my son! Your life belongs to me! That money does, too!" he roared, lunging straight for the backpack on my shoulders.

Brian rushed in from the other side, reaching for my ticket. "No money, and you think you can run? Hand it over!"

I only had three hours before my bus departed.

They blocked me at the building entrance. Behind me was endless darkness. In front of me stood two robbers.

I gripped the straps of my backpack tightly and looked at their twisted faces.

Only one thought remained in my mind: no one could stop me from leaving.