Chapter 8

I tried to speak, but only a weak, raspy sound emerged. My father's eyes flashed with worry as he leaned closer. "Rubio? What's wrong? Don't strain yourself." He quickly unlocked his phone and gently placed it in my hands. "Here, type what you want to say," he said softly, his voice full of worry.

The phone felt unusually heavy in my shaking hands. Every move was a struggle, each keystroke sending a dull pain through my rigid fingers. I let out a quiet sigh before slowly typing: [Hello, dad. Didn't you say you'd change? Why is Ridley still involved in the same activities? I just ate at the restaurant and was billed a hundred thousand dollars. When I couldn't pay, they threatened to take me to a massage parlor. Is that part of your business too?]