Chapter 4: The Grocery War Begins

a shadow rushed up and knocked me to the ground.

The world spun. Before I could react, the person started tearing at my clothes. His big hands went straight for the pocket at my waistband—I realized he was after my money.

I clutched the inside pocket at my waist with both hands.

My fingers dug in, desperate, refusing to let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. My heart hammered, fear surging through me like ice water.

I cried out for help, but he punched and kicked me.

The blows landed hard, pain exploding behind my eyes. I tasted blood, my cries swallowed by the empty night.

"Please, mister, let me go. This money is my only hope."

My voice cracked, pleading. I thought of Mom, of Tyler, of everything riding on those crumpled bills.

He said nothing, just pried my hands open with brute force. My jeans tore, and a cold chill seeped through my whole body.

His grip was relentless, his silence more terrifying than any threat. I felt exposed, powerless, small.

"Which is more important, money or your life?"

He punched me again, viciously. "Let go!"

The words echoed, cruel and mocking. I tried to hold on, but my strength was slipping away.

My whole body went numb—I couldn’t even feel pain. In my ears, his words echoed over and over:

I was drifting, the world narrowing to a single point of pain and loss. His voice haunted me, a nightmare I couldn’t wake from.

"Which is more important, money or your life…"

Suddenly, a stabbing pain shot through my waist, and I let go.

The last of my strength gave out. I heard the money tear free, felt the chill of defeat settle into my bones.

He snatched the money from my hands.

His footsteps faded, leaving only silence and shame in their wake.

Everything went quiet.

The world felt empty, hollowed out. I lay there, listening to the wind rustle through the grass, wishing I could disappear.

Gradually, I regained feeling. I got up, holding my torn pants together.

Every movement hurt, but I forced myself upright. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, determined not to cry.

I’d never felt the August wind so cold.

It cut right through me.

Stumbling, I made it home. I locked the gate tight, leaned against the door, gasping for breath. My legs gave out, and I slid to the ground.

The house was dark, silent. I pressed my forehead to the cool wood, trying to steady my breathing. My hands shook uncontrollably.

The money I’d worked so hard to get was gone, just like that.

It felt like the world had ended, all hope snatched away in an instant.

The hope I’d finally found was crushed.

I pressed my fist to my mouth, fighting the urge to scream. I wanted to smash something, to rage against the unfairness of it all.

I wanted to cry but didn’t dare. I could only bite my lip hard, holding back the urge to break down.

The taste of blood was sharp, metallic. I clenched my jaw, determined not to let anyone see me fall apart.

The fear hit me afterward, and I couldn’t stop shaking.

It crawled up my spine, icy and relentless. Every shadow looked like danger, every sound like a threat.

My throat closed up. No sound would come.

Mom and Uncle heard the noise and rushed into the yard.

Their voices were frantic, footsteps pounding on the porch. I tried to answer, but nothing came out.

All I could hear was urgent shouting in my ears. My vision blurred, my head throbbed, and I blacked out.

The world went dark, swallowing me whole.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on the old couch at home. Dr. Perry and Uncle stood by.

The room was warm, the air thick with worry and the faint scent of antiseptic. I blinked, trying to focus on their faces.

"Mom…" Uncle burst out crying.

His voice broke, raw and desperate. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and I reached out to comfort him, my own pain forgotten for a moment.

My heart ached. His crying tore me apart, and my own pain overwhelmed me. Tears streamed silently down my face.

I wanted to tell him it was okay, that I was still here. But the words dissolved into sobs.

"It’s okay, Tyler, see? I’m fine."

I forced a smile, wiping his tears away with trembling fingers. He clung to my hand, refusing to let go.

"Marlene, did you run into trouble near the edge of town? The bike was found in a ditch."

Dr. Perry’s voice was gentle, but I could hear the worry behind it. I felt a pang of guilt, remembering the borrowed bike.

I’d been so panicked, I didn’t care about the bike. Remembering it was his, I felt guilty:

"Sorry, Dr. Perry. It was too dark on the way back, I couldn’t see the road."

He waved off my apology, but I could see the relief in his eyes.

Dr. Perry saw I wanted to talk, and quickly glanced at Uncle:

He gave me a look, the kind that said, "Let’s talk in private." I nodded, understanding.

"Tyler, go outside and wipe down my bike, it’s all muddy."

I followed up right away:

"Go rinse it by the riverbank."

Uncle, seeing I was okay, ran out happily.