My Father Put a Price on Me

As I stood in the entryway, I stared at the text message with a frown on my face.

I'd been working for years and had never borrowed money, much less taken out a loan.

I continued to scroll through my phone. Soon, I received dozens of notifications, all informing me that my loan applications had been approved.

A sudden, dreadful suspicion took hold.

I was walking toward the living room, about to call out, "Dad, I'm home," when I saw him sitting at the dining table with an old-fashioned ledger in front of him. He sat there as if he'd been waiting for me to walk right into a trap he'd set.

"Freya, your mother died when you were young. It wasn't easy raising you all by myself. Now that I'm retired, I'm at the age when I need someone to support me. I know you don't have much money, so I used your ID to take out $300,000 in bank loans.

"Consider it repayment for all the money I spent raising you!" he declared.

He casually opened the ledger and spread it out in front of me.

My heart lurched. My fingers trembled as I took it from him. Every last expense was itemized in painstaking detail.

"Freya's cold medicine: $200."

"Freya's menstrual pads: $80 × 86 months = $6,880."

"Extra egg with Freya's breakfast: $2 × 2,660 days = $5,320."

And on and on it went.

He'd listed everything down, from my hospital stays to the ginger, garlic, and scallions in my meals.

He'd even included the $9.90 canvas sneakers I'd bought in middle school ten years ago.

At the bottom of the last page, he'd written down the grand total in bold red ink. "$298,922.75."

"Dad! Are you serious?" There was an unmistakable hint of bitterness in my tone.

My father merely took a drag from his cigarette and slowly exhaled, speaking as if he'd done me an enormous favor. "I rounded it up to an even $300,000."

I struggled to keep my anger in check. "Dad, how could you take out loans in my name without even telling me? That's illegal! And why didn't you ask Kellan to support you? Shouldn't we each pay half of your living expenses?"

His eyes widened with fury as soon as I said that, and he slapped me across the face.

"What do you mean, illegal? You owe me this money! It's only fair for you to pay back your dues! Besides, how can you compare yourself to Kellan? He's an Ashwood. You're just an outsider who's going to marry into another family sooner or later.

"If I don't get my money's worth out of you now, who am I supposed to turn to once you're out of the door?"

An outsider.

I let out a bitter bark of laughter.

After my mother died, my older brother, Kellan Ashwood, fled the household, leaving us to deal with his gambling debts. He'd stayed away from us for eight years now.

During all those years, he ignored us and never once offered to help us out.

Yet, my father was still worried that he would struggle to survive. So, he transferred $ 8,000 to Kellan from his pension every single month without fail.

Meanwhile, I had no choice but to drop out of high school before graduating and move to the city to get a job, all to ease the family's financial burden. I sent my dad $30,000 every month to help cover his expenses.