All Chapters of Crushed by Debt, Forbidden to Die: Chapter 1 - Chapter 8

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

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

"I think you would want her body to be intact, right?" Dr. Gordon asked.His words were like a sledgehammer against Dad's chest, completely shattering his fantasy of trying to rewrite my fate with money.Dad's arms fell limply to his side, the checks fluttering into the mud and getting crushed deep into the sludge by someone's foot.As it turned out, there were things that money couldn't buy after all, even if he owned an entire financial empire. For instance, there was no way to undo regret or get my life back.Soon, the sounds of police sirens filled the air. Several police officers then approached the scene, taking in the bizarre sight. There was a man in tattered clothing trying to slip checks into a private hospital's paramedic's clothes, a horribly frozen corpse in a curled-up position, and my ledger notes scattered on the ground—notes in which I asked Mom and Dad to sell my organs for money.The officers quickly secured the scene and began checking everybody's identificat

They were made from an old sweater that I no longer wore. I had painstakingly sewn each layer together, and the stitches were crooked and uneven, making the fabric look ugly and bulky like two old rags.Dad was shocked.He slowly unfolded the bundle of fabric and realized that it was a pair of knee pads. I had stuffed them with layers and layers of cotton, and the pads felt soft and slightly prickly to the skin.A sweat-soaked note slipped out from inside the knee pads. My handwriting on it was small and neat."Dad, I made these knee pads for you with an old sweater. I've also added three layers of cotton inside."You told me last time that the coarse asphalt rubbed your knees raw the last time the creditors forced you to kneel on the road for hours. I can't pay off your debt completely, but this is the only thing that I can do for you."The next time they force you to your knees again, you can secretly wear these under your pants so the contact with the road won't hurt so much.