That day, when I lost everything

   It all started a few years ago...

   Back then, everything was... fine. My dad ran a modest business. We lived in a quiet neighborhood, took family trips now and then, and never really had to worry about money. I went to a decent school, had a group of friends, even a girlfriend. Life was... good.

   But all good things have their end.

   It started with the company. One client pulling out—and just like that, the ground beneath us shifted. My dad tried to patch the cracks, but those kept widening. Eventually, the business went under, and we lost the house. We moved to a smaller place.

   At first, I thought we’d bounce back. My dad always made things work. But this time was different. My mom left soon after. Just a note on the kitchen counter and empty hangers in her closet. After that, my dad didn’t talk much. Not to me, not to anyone. He just... faded.

   Since we had financial problems, I had to leave school and started working wherever I could. Fast food. Delivery. Odd jobs. Anything to keep the lights on.

   Friends stopped calling. My girlfriend moved on. It wasn’t sudden—it was more like a slow drift, like watching something you care about float away while you stand still.

   Eventually, it was just me and him.

   That night started like any other. The fridge was nearly empty, so I was in the kitchen, scraping together something vaguely dinner-shaped. My dad was in the living room, TV on low, half-asleep with a beer nearby.

   Then the doorbell rang.

   It was strange. Nobody ever visited us.

   I wiped my hands on a towel and opened the door.

   Two men stood there. Black suits. Sunglasses. The kind of look you only see in movies, and only before something bad happens.

   “Uh—” I started to speak, but I didn’t even get to finish the word.

   There was a sharp jolt in my side. My whole body locked up, pain slicing through me like lightning. My knees buckled, and I hit the floor hard. I couldn’t move, nor speak. Everything was spinning.

   But I could still hear.

   Footsteps. A soft thud as someone stepped over me. And then—his voice.

   My dad.

   He didn’t sound scared. He didn’t even ask what was happening.

   “Yeah, he’s the one,” he said, like he was confirming an order. “Now, where’s the rest of my money?”

   ...I understood it quickly.

   There was the sound of cash. Then the faint clink of his bottle being set down.

   I lay there, frozen on the floor, listening to it all.

   The men grabbed my arms. Dragged me toward the door. I caught a final glimpse of my dad as they pulled me out. He didn’t flinch. He just lit a cigarette and leaned back on the couch like nothing had happened.

   And that’s when I knew.

   I was sold.

   But what surprised me most at the time was not the fact that I was betrayed by my own father after doing everything I could to keep us together, but the fact that it didn't bother me at all. 

   To be honest, at that moment I didn't feel anything special... maybe a little disappointment deep in my heart...