I Took Her Phone, She Took My Life

“Why’s it so quiet? Didn’t your mom make dinner?”

Jason stepped out, worry flickering on his face.

“Dad, I think Mom ran away from home. She didn’t even take her phone—it’s been ringing nonstop in her room.”

“Ran away from home?”

David let out a laugh, shaking his head, utterly unconcerned.

“That temper of hers—always blowing up over nothing! Probably sulking again. Whatever. I’m starving. Got anything to eat?”

He walked straight to the fridge, found only leftovers.

In the end, he dug out a few beers and a vacuum pack of chicken wings from the pantry and sat down to eat.

The smell of food drew Emily out of her room. She sat at the table in silence, grabbing a wing.

Jason joined too.

David’s face darkened, watching his kids eat a pitiful dinner of cheap wings.

“Your mom’s getting worse! Sulking is one thing, but not cooking for her kids? What kind of mother does that? When she gets back, I’m gonna have words with her!”

His voice dripped with blame and resentment, chilling me further inside the bag.

I spun like a top every day for this family—cooking, cleaning, worrying about their health and comfort.

My devotion, invisible.

One missed meal, and I was suddenly the villain.

If he hadn’t ignored his family all these years, raised his daughter with nothing but harshness, how would Emily have become this cold and extreme?

They sat just a few feet from me, eating, complaining—without sparing the punching bag a single glance.

Soon, the wings and beers were gone.

David burped, glanced at the night outside.

“Fine, I’ll take a walk, look for your mom. What a nuisance.”

“Oh, and turn off the AC in the living room! No one’s home—it’s a waste of electricity!”

My heart clenched in terror.

The bag was airtight, a tiny sweltering cell. I had been breathing only thanks to faint trickles of cool air seeping in through the zipper.

If the AC was shut off, in this hot summer night, the heat would suffocate me.

Please—don’t turn it off! Please!

I screamed inside, praying someone would sense the danger.

At that moment, my phone rang again in the bedroom.

David clicked his tongue irritably, walked in, and picked it up.

“Margaret? Laura’s not around? It’s nothing, I just found this health supplement, good for the heart… Not too expensive, just two thousand dollars. I figured Laura and Daniel could split it, a thousand each.”

His face darkened immediately—her mother again, leeching money.

She had given their father’s entire inheritance to Daniel, yet every time she needed cash, it was Laura who had to pay.

David’s voice turned icy.

“Two thousand? You’ve got some nerve… I don’t have the money! Talk to her when she gets back. That’s it!”

He slammed the call down and tossed my phone back onto the bed like trash, muttering curses.

“Bloodsuckers, the lot of them! Do they think I’m an ATM?”

He abandoned the idea of going out to search, slamming the front door shut as though to vent all his anger on it.