Collateral by Amber McCray

One month was all it took for my life to come crumbling down. My alcoholic father burst through the creaking door with a duffel bag in hand and a smile big enough to showcase all his rotting teeth. He entered the house shouting how he had won the jackpot.
I knew this moment was coming.
The moment when my life would change forever. Not because of the ‘Lottery Winnings.’ That was a scam. I knew, somehow, my life would be altered because of a decision my family made.
As the days in the month went, my father got more and more depressed. Then one evening, as we both sat on the couch, I ask again. How long?
Soon, tears started rolling down my father’s stubble coated cheeks, confirming my suspicion of ‘the lottery’ being complete bullshit. In my jumbled haze, I had just whispered, ‘how long?’ He had replied, after an eternity it seemed, ‘seven days.’
I had managed to pry some more information from my father the alcoholic, may it be one sentence or one word. ‘Lottery’, he had said, ‘Las Vegas Lottery.’ The next day, sprawled on his permanent destination of the couch, he had whispered, ‘Casino Lottery.’
Last night, just before blacking out, he had given the final piece of the information. ‘Price … you.’

There was no lottery.
It was a loan.
And I was the collateral.