I Died, Then Made Him Pay / Chapter 5: Leverage in Blood and Pixels
I Died, Then Made Him Pay

I Died, Then Made Him Pay

Author: Thomas Cox

Chapter 5: Leverage in Blood and Pixels

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When I got home, Mom had already left. The apartment was eerily quiet.

Inside, a few burly men with knives and bats were waiting. They looked like they’d stepped out of a bad crime show.

And there was my dad, face swollen and bruised from a beating, cowering in the corner, too scared to make a sound. He looked smaller than I’d ever seen him.

When he saw me, he jumped up like he’d seen a savior. He scrambled to his feet, limping.

"You little bastard, you came home late on purpose, didn’t you? Wanted to see me get beaten to death?" He spat the words out, voice trembling.

"You got any money? Hand it over to these gentlemen!" He gestured wildly at the thugs.

"They’ve had a long day—they need to go home and rest." He forced a laugh, lips splitting open.

He started rifling through my pockets, forcing a smile through his swollen lips as he tried to suck up to the thugs. His hands were clumsy, desperate.

He was a bully at home, but outside he was a coward. I’d always known it.

"Dad, you took all my pay this morning. I don’t have a cent left." I kept my voice calm.

"Maybe let these gentlemen go and wait till payday." I turned my pockets inside out.

Before he could start searching, I turned my pockets inside out myself—not even a coin fell out. I stood tall, refusing to flinch.

The thugs looked furious and closed in on him. One of them cracked his knuckles.

I stepped back and watched from the corner.

After a chaotic round of beating, the thugs finally left. They spat curses as they walked out.

Dad struggled to his feet—his face swollen and misshapen, his fingers broken, two ribs snapped.

"You little bastard, you just watched me get beat up!" He staggered toward me, voice hoarse.

"You want me dead, don’t you!" He bared his teeth, spittle flying.

He glared at me, cursing, then grabbed a bat from the floor and staggered over, swinging it at me with all his might. The bat whistled through the air.

I instinctively wanted to dodge, but forced myself to stay still. My heart pounded.

He thought I was scared, that I wouldn’t dare move, and got even more smug. He hit me harder and harder.

But what he didn’t know was that I’d hidden a tiny camera in my briefcase on the table, capturing everything he did in crisp detail. The little red light blinked.

Ten minutes later, he was finally tired out and stumbled off to his room. He slammed the door behind him.

I spat out some blood and struggled to get up. My ribs ached.

Just then, my phone buzzed. The vibration startled me.

"Bro, I just Venmo’d you twenty grand." The message flashed on the screen—a lifeline.

"Hang on to that hard-earned money—don’t let your deadbeat dad waste it again." His words made me smile, even through the pain.

For the first time, I had leverage.

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