The Life She Stole
I ditched the pickaxe, looking for anything else to use, but in my frenzy, I stumbled and ended up on the floor.
The footsteps behind me were getting louder.
A cold sweat drenched my back as I curled up, cornered and powerless. The pitch-black cellar had me spouting anything that came to mind, a last-ditch plea.
"Please, mister, have mercy! I can pay you—ten, twenty thousand dollars. Just let me go, and I'll owe you big time, even in my next life!"
"You've been slaving away for twenty years already, isn't that enough? You want to keep it up in your next life too?"