Chapter 7

In that split second, Michael's face flashed through my mind. But the ones who burst in weren't Michael but a group of big, burly men.

They charged in, swinging iron bars, rage written all over their faces. "James, you think you can hide out in this Children's Home forever? Have you still got time to prey on little girls? If you don't cough up the money today..."

They shouted and dragged James out the door.

James's tough-guy act vanished in a flash, replaced by pure terror and panic.

He was dragged away, finally letting go of me, though it was clear he was reluctant to do it.

He put on a trembling, fawning smile. "N-no, it's not like that. I've scraped the money together, I swear."

The men dragged him straight out.

I was completely drained, and I collapsed to the floor.

I could vaguely hear the men outside, their voices full of threats and angry shouts.

Then came James's panicked, desperate pleas. "I scraped the money together. I've got a card, and there's 30 thousand dollars on it. Seriously, I'm not lying this time. It's right in the drawer. I'll get it for you right now."

Those words were all too familiar to me.

Back when Dad was still alive, whenever he lost money gambling, the debt collectors would show up at our door, and he'd grovel and beg in exactly the same way.

Michael had spent years scraping together that 30 thousand dollars, and now James was about to blow it all paying off his debts.

If he handed it over, that money would be gone for good.

I fought through the dizziness, my head spinning.

Gasping for air, I stumbled to the desk, yanked open the drawer, and rummaged through it as if my life depended on it.

Michael's card was tucked away at the very bottom.

I grabbed the card and, clutching it tight, hurled myself out the window with everything I had left in me.

James heard the commotion and started yelling. "That girl's making a run for it. Hey, let me go first."

More sounds of beating and cursing followed. Then came what sounded like the security guard's voice. "Hey, what are you doing? Release Mr. Warren."

It wasn't long before I heard James's voice, hot on my heels. "You little brat. Stop right there."

I ran for my life, and the wind howled in my ears.

I could hear footsteps pounding after me.

My legs were trembling, and my throat burned as if it was being slashed with a knife.

I bolted into the backyard and made a break for it through a busted side gate.

James's furious voice was right behind me, hot on my heels. "You think you can get away? After I catch you..."

I clutched the card tightly and ran along the street, not knowing how far I had gone.

I was running out of steam, and the footsteps behind me were getting closer and closer.

James's furious, ragged breathing was practically right in my ear. "You dare steal from me, you little brat. I've finally caught you."

He lunged forward, reaching for my arm.

Desperate, I snatched up a bottle from a nearby trash can and hurled it straight at his eyes, throwing it as hard as I could.

He stopped in his tracks and quickly dodged.

I steeled myself and ran straight into the middle of the busy street, heading for the other side.

Brakes screeched, and someone leaned out their window, cursing at me. "Are you nuts? Do you have a death wish?"

I couldn't hear anything anymore.

I ran for a long, long time. I myself didn't even know where I was going. Or maybe it was just an aimless flight.

By the time the sun was high in the sky, the streets started to look familiar.

I stopped in my tracks and realized I was standing right outside the door to Michael's apartment.