When did you realize your home wasn’t a safe place?

The Unraveling of Family

I was 13 when I asked my dad why me and my little sister hadn’t eaten all day. “Honey, you know I’m trying to help our family win,” he responded. I sighed and blinked hard to hold back the tears.

“You see, my dad was a textbook gambling addict.” It started when I was 10. He’d buy scratch cards from the local gas station and practically run outside to scratch the number off.

But I guess that lost its novelty because just a few weeks later, he was spending every weekend down at the local casino. I still remember the year he started because it was the first time me and my sister, who was six at the time, didn’t get anything for our birthday or Christmas.

Plus, my dad always promised that one day he would win big. He’d always joke about how 99% of gamblers quit before their big win. He’d reference stories he’d heard about people who won thousands of dollars in one single game.

So, I started stealing. Nothing crazy, just a cheap bracelet here and a purse there. It was almost impossible not to because every time I got her a gift, her entire face would light up.

“Really? For me?” she’d yell before wrapping her tiny arms around me.

But by the time I turned 14, I hated myself because I had let myself believe his lies so many times that disappointment became part of my daily routine. But even worse, I had promised Sooso that our lives would get better soon, that daddy would go back to how he was before.

Now, you may be wondering where our mom was during all this. Well, she sort of became the bread winner of the family. She was working as a nurse for 14 hours a day and had no idea any of this was going on.

And I wanted to tell her, but my dad had somehow convinced me that it would make things worse. I had spent the entire year acting like the parent of the house. I rarely ever ate more than one meal a day because I always let Sooso eat my food instead.

I’d guide him to bed when he was staying up all night on GG poker, slamming his skull against the table repeatedly whenever he lost. But I was so desensitized to my family life that none of this was even that bad.

My real breaking point came during Sooso’s Christmas play. She had reminded me and my dad about it over and over again. Even put up a note on the fridge 2 months in advance about the date and time. My dad promised to meet me there.

But on the day, as Sooso came on stage to say her one and only line, she glanced at the empty chair beside me and burst into tears. I was seeing red. I texted my mom asking if we could talk when she got home later.

“Of course, honey,” she said with a kissing emoji. I took a deep breath and reassured myself that I was doing the right thing, that things would be better. But once again, I was let down.

We were sitting at the table and I told her everything. The starvation, my forced parental role, the constant tears. She reached her arm across the table and put her perfectly manicured hand on mine.

“Honey, no husband is as good at hiding things from his wife as he thinks.” “I already knew all this.”

I felt my eyes spark up. “So, are things finally going to be different?” My tone was bright and hopeful.

“Honey, we’re a family.” “That means we have to pick up the slack for each other.”

And before I could say anything else, she kissed the top of my head and went to bed. As I lay in bed that night, I did the math in my head like I’d done a hundred times before.

Four more years until I turned 18. 1,460 days of this. And if me and Sooso didn’t share a room together, I would have made barcodes all across my thighs.

The next day, my dad took me on a trip to somewhere I’d never been before. And that was to rock bottom. He came home with a bruised eye and a nose pouring with red.

“Honey, how much do you have in your savings account?” Was the first thing he asked when I opened the door. I don’t even know why I told the truth, but I did. “$400.”

“Yeah, I’m going to need every single cent.” I sighed. That was months of sacrificed food, clothes, and hours spent babysitting.

“It’s to keep the family safe.” “I borrowed a lot of money, and as you can see,” he then pointed to his face, “They’re not very happy with me right now.”

I grabbed the cash behind the cupboard where I hid it and handed it to him. He cried and swore on Sooso’s life that he’d never gamble again. I wanted to believe him so badly that I ignored the voice screaming in my head.

Two days later, I woke up to Sooso leaving the room. I immediately grabbed her and asked where the f she was going. “Daddy told me he’s taking me to McDonald’s, but he told me not to tell you because he said you’d be jealous.”

Relief washed over me, and I told her to have a good time before going back to sleep. But the next day, Sooso was gone. Her bed was made. Her favorite stuffed animal was missing.

When I screamed at my dad about where she was, he couldn’t look at me. “They said they’d unalive us all.” “I had no choice.” “She’s with a nice family.”

I didn’t let him finish. I was already dialing 911, but my dad was faster than I thought. He lunged at me and wrestled the phone from my hands.

I tried to fight back, but he was stronger. He threw the phone against the wall and it shattered into pieces. He was begging me not to call anyone.

He said if the police got involved, we’d all be dead by morning. I was screaming at him, asking what he’d done. Where was my sister?

He kept saying he had no choice. That these people don’t mess around. My mom walked through the door right then. She was home early from her shift.

I ran to her crying about Sooso being gone. She looked at my dad then back at me. She told me to calm down and that we’d handle this as a family.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Handle what? Our six-year-old sister was missing. My dad had sold her or given her away or something.

My mom guided me to the couch and sat between me and my dad. She said, “Sometimes families have to make hard choices.” I felt like I was going insane.

What hard choice? Where was Sooso? My dad finally started talking. He owed money to some very bad people, more than he could ever pay back.

They gave him an ultimatum. Either they take everything, including our lives, or he gives them something valuable. I wanted to throw up. He sold my baby sister to pay gambling debts.

My mom put her hand on my knee. She said Sooso would have a better life now. These people found her a wealthy family who couldn’t have kids.

She’d go to private school, have her own room, everything we couldn’t give her. I pushed her hand away and stood up. I told them they were both insane.

“You can’t just sell a child.” “That’s kidnapping.” “That’s trafficking.” My dad said it wasn’t like that. The family paid an adoption fee. It was all very civilized.

I laughed, but it wasn’t funny. Adoption fee to criminals. I realized then that she had known. She had known the whole time.

This wasn’t my dad going behind her back. They had planned this together. I felt sick. These were supposed to be my parents, the people who loved us most in the world.

And they had sold my sister like she was nothing.