Mother's Gift: A Crime of Charity

For the holidays, my mother booked me a flight to visit the underprivileged student she’d been sponsoring for years. It was supposed to be a nice gesture, a chance to spread some holiday cheer. The moment I stepped off the plane, the student and his friends ambushed me, stealing my phone, my wallet, and all my identification. Then they dragged me to a godforsaken compound in the middle of nowhere and threw me in a cell. I wept, begging him to let me go, pleading with him to remember my mother’s kindness. But he just laughed and told me I was my mother’s gift to him. A New Year’s present. I was trapped, hopeless. Then, a commotion outside my cell. The boss of the entire operation was making his New Year’s rounds, inspecting his territory. I caught a glimpse of him through the crack in the door. My heart stopped. It was my father. My father, who had been missing for five years, the man who had loved me more than life itself. 1 “Dad!” I screamed with every ounce of strength I had, just as the door was closing. But the student, whose name was Jack, was faster. He clamped a hand over my mouth while another one of his thugs kicked me square in the chest. A spray of blood erupted from my mouth. I felt something shatter inside me, a wave of agony that stole my breath and my voice. “What the hell are you screaming about?” the thug snarled. “Trying to claim you know the boss? You got a death wish?” My vision swam. Through the haze of pain, I saw my father’s back as he walked away, surrounded by his entourage, completely oblivious to my cry for help. “She’s got a strong set of lungs on her,” Jack said with a cruel smirk. “Let’s starve her for three days. That should quiet her down.” He crouched down, his face inches from mine. “My godmother told me her daughter was a top student, real pretty. Said men fall all over themselves for her. The perfect bait for a honey-trap scam.” I couldn't process it. These words couldn’t have come from my mother. In the lonely, rain-swept nights after my father disappeared, she would hold me and tell me I was the only thing she had left in this world. How could she give away her only treasure? “No,” I rasped, my voice barely a whisper. “My mom would never do that.” Jack grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. “Open your damn eyes and see the truth.” His voice dropped to a possessive growl. “I’m a hell of a lot more important to your mother than you are. Every single night since your deadbeat dad vanished, I’m the one who’s kept her company.” He shoved his phone in my face, forcing me to read his chat history with my mother. She called him ‘baby.’ She asked when he was coming to spend the holidays with her. Jack had replied that he hadn’t met his quota yet; he was one body short and couldn’t leave. And my mother’s reply: Then I’ll just send you my daughter to make up the numbers. Jack’s response: You’re a wicked woman. I like that. I squeezed my eyes shut, a wave of despair washing over me. The woman who had called me her precious daughter, her everything, was this cold, ruthless monster. She had sold her own child, the daughter she’d raised for twenty years, just to please her lover. The betrayal was a pain far sharper than any physical blow. It coiled in my gut, a grief so profound I curled into a ball on the filthy floor and sobbed. My only hope of escape was my father. I had to find a way to see him. Jack was about to leave the reeking, blood-spattered room when I shot out a hand and grabbed his ankle. “Jack, please, just let me see your boss. I’m telling you the truth, I’m his daughter. His name is Silas. My name is Stella!” Jack and the two hulking guards at the door burst into mocking laughter. “You’re really desperate, aren’t you? Yeah, the boss’s name is Silas. But he doesn't have a daughter. Never has.” How could I prove it? My mind raced. Then, I remembered. The scar on his chin. “My dad has a scar on his chin! He got it saving me when I almost fell off a ski lift!” One of the guards froze. He leaned in and whispered something in Jack’s ear. “Jack, the boss really does have a scar on his chin. You don’t think…?” “Lots of people have scars! I’ve got one!” Jack tilted his head back to show them, then his eyes narrowed with sudden rage. “Stella, are you playing games with us?” He stomped his foot down hard on my hand, grinding it into the concrete floor. The agony was excruciating, a white-hot scream tearing from my throat. 2 One of the guards joined in, kicking me repeatedly in the stomach. “You little bitch, trying to scare us?” “Let’s see how you like being played with!” He produced a long, wicked-looking needle from his pocket. He grabbed my other hand, the one pinned under Jack’s boot, and without hesitation, plunged the needle deep into the soft flesh under my fingernail. A piercing shriek echoed through the corridor. Instinct took over. I flailed, my free hand beating against Jack’s leg. “You dare to hit me? I’ll show you what happens when you fight back!” He lifted his other foot and brought it crashing down on my struggling hand. Jack was a big man, and his full weight came down on the fingers I used to play the piano. Crack. Crack. I heard the sickening snap of bones. The pain was blinding. My body convulsed, drenched in a cold sweat. I was losing consciousness. Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed on the heavy door. “Jack, stop! The boss is making his New Year’s rounds. He doesn’t want to see any blood today. He’s on his way here now.” The voice was… familiar. Jack and the guard tensed. “Jack, we can’t screw this up. The boss is ruthless. If we piss him off, we’re dead.” I could hear footsteps approaching from the hallway. It was my father. He was coming. This was my only chance. The primal urge to survive surged through me. As Jack and the guard opened the door to leave, I scrambled to my feet. I kicked Jack hard in the back, sending him stumbling forward, and scrambled through the gap he’d created. The moment I burst out of the room, the sunlight was so bright it was blinding. I squinted, my eyes barely able to open. Through the sliver of vision, I saw him. My father, not far away, shaking hands with one of his men, a glass of wine in his hand. I summoned every last bit of my strength and screamed, “Dad! Help me!” The next second, my voice was muffled. Jack, clutching his back, had scrambled to his feet. He clamped a hand over my mouth and dragged me back into the dark, hopeless room. “You little shit! You think you can trick me?” “Looks like I didn’t hit you hard enough!” My hands were useless. I could only kick and buck, finally managing to head-butt him hard enough to make his nose bleed. “Dad!” I screamed again. I saw my father turn, his head tilting as if he’d heard something. And then, a heavy object crashed against the back of my head. The world went black. When I woke up, every inch of my body was a landscape of pain. I was covered in a warm, sticky film of my own blood. I was back in the cell. Jack and the guards were gone, probably outside waiting for my father. “Dad!” I cried out, my voice raw. “Come save me! It’s Stella!” I used my elbows to drag myself across the floor to the door and started kicking it with my feet. My hands were broken, useless. But the sound of my foot hitting the metal door was loud, thunderous. He would have to hear it. And he did. The next moment, I heard his voice, a voice I hadn’t heard in five long years, from just outside the door. “What’s going on? Who’s that yelling for their dad?” “It’s nothing, boss,” Jack’s voice answered smoothly. “The new ones are always like this. Crying for their mommy and daddy.” “This one’s just particularly unruly. See? She broke my nose. Went against your ‘no blood’ rule for the new year.” “You go on and greet the others, boss. I’ll go shut her up.” The door flew open, slamming into me and knocking me to the ground. “I told you to shut your goddamn mouth!” Jack dragged me by the hair to a small table in the center of the room. The guard pried my mouth open and forced me to bite down on the corner of the table. Then, the guard’s thick, powerful hand slammed down on the back of my head. Again and again. Blood filled my mouth, dammed up by the table’s edge. I felt my teeth crack, and I swallowed the broken pieces. I couldn't make a sound anymore, my tongue felt like it had been shredded. 3 Jack spat on my face. “There. Nice and quiet now.” I lay on the floor, a broken, bleeding mess, only able to make soft, whimpering sounds of agony. I couldn't say his name anymore. “Tie her up. Put a bag over her head. I’m sick of looking at her face.” Just as they finished binding my hands and feet and pulling a black hood over my head, my father’s voice filled the doorway again. “I thought I said no blood on New Year’s. What is all this?” Dad! It’s me! It’s your Stella! But I couldn't speak. I could only writhe on the floor like a worm as my blood soaked through the hood and dripped onto the concrete. I was so close. So close to the father I had missed for five agonizing years. “It’s the new year,” my father said, his voice cold. “I don’t want to have to kill anyone today. You two, watch yourselves. If I see something like this again, there will be consequences.” “Yes, yes, of course, boss.” He was leaving. Again. We were so close, yet a world apart. I was truly going to die here. “What’s wrong with you two?” the familiar voice from before spoke again. “Didn't I tell you to stop?” Jack, furious, kicked me again in the stomach. I could only curl into a ball, whimpering. “Sir,” Jack said, his voice full of false deference. “This woman is insane. She keeps insisting the boss is her father.” “I’ve been in this compound for years. The boss has never even had a woman, let alone a grown daughter! She’s just trying to escape.” The man’s voice sharpened with alarm. “Take the hood off her. Now!” Jack hesitated, then ripped the black cloth from my head. “You goddamn idiot!” The man roared, his voice filled with fury. He kicked Jack so hard in the stomach that he crumpled to the floor, unable to get up. “She is the boss’s daughter! That’s Stella!” My vision was a blur of blood and tears. I forced my eyes open, trying to focus on the man standing before me. And my dead heart lurched back to life. It was my father’s best friend. My Uncle John. He had known me since I was a child. He would save me. He had to. A sob broke from my throat. Uncle John, please, help me. But the next words out of his mouth shattered my last sliver of hope. “Shave her head. Now. We can’t let the boss recognize her.” His voice was cold, pragmatic. “If he does, everything we’ve built for years will be destroyed.” Without a word, Jack grabbed a pair of clippers and began shearing off my hair. Uncle John crouched in front of me, studying my face intently. “It’s not enough. You can still tell it’s her. You’ll have to cut up her face.” “But sir,” Jack protested, “we were going to use her for the honey trap.” “Is your life more important, or the money?” John snarled. “Do as I say!” Jack took a blade and began to carve into my face. The sharp steel bit deep into my skin, and hot blood streamed down my ruined cheeks. I was unrecognizable, my breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. “That should do it,” John said. Then, as if struck by a thought, he grabbed my ankle. His eyes fell on the silver locket tied with a red string. It was a gift from my father on my twelfth birthday. A good luck charm. In the center, he had carved a single star. It was his blessing, his wish that I would live a life of peace and happiness. “Are you trying to get us all killed?” John hissed. “Why didn’t you get rid of this?” He ripped the locket from my ankle and tossed it to a guard. “Be smart about it. Don’t just throw it away in the compound. If the boss finds it, he’ll have your head.” “Yes, sir!” But the guard had barely taken five steps when a chilling voice stopped him in his tracks.

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