I was halfway through my shift at the smelly laundromat, folding a huge, sweaty pile of bath towels, when my phone buzzed on the counter. I normally didn't check it because I was too focused on work, but something made me grab it instantly. It was a new text message from an unknown number, and my gut immediately twisted with cold recognition; I knew before I even opened it that it was that rich bastard Liang Xu confirming that he was still in control of my miserable life. I slowly wiped the soap and water off my hands and opened the message, my new, calm resolve battling against the sickening dread that was trying to creep back in, but I forced myself to stay completely focused and cold, just like I had been lately.
The message was just two words, simple and completely menacing: "Still out?" That was all it took for me to feel the full weight of his power again. He wasn't even threatening me this time, but the question was a clear signal that he knew I was home, that he knew I had dropped out, and that he was checking up on me, just like a warden checking on his prisoner. My hands, which had been so steady folding towels, started to shake a little bit, but I quickly grabbed the edges of the counter and forced myself to stop. I took a deep, slow breath, reminding myself that panicking wouldn't help my sister or put any money into my savings fund.
I didn't reply to the message, obviously, because giving him any acknowledgment was just giving him more power, and I knew better than to play his stupid game. Instead, I just stared at the hateful words, and that cold, simmering resentment I'd been nurturing immediately started to boil up again, turning into a hard, unbreakable determination. He thought he had completely won and broken me by forcing me out of high school, but he was completely wrong; he had only succeeded in creating a tougher, colder, and more focused enemy, one who was now working late nights and quietly building the resources needed for a future escape.
I pocketed the phone and didn't look at it again for the rest of the shift. I went back to the mountains of dirty laundry, forcing myself to work faster and harder than before. Every cycle of the washing machine, every drop of sweat, and every piece of lint I cleaned out of the trap was another tiny step away from his control and another act of quiet defiance. That text message was a painful reminder that I was still a prisoner, but it also made my goal crystal clear: I had to save enough money to get my family completely out of his reach, and I wouldn't stop until that rich jerk was just a painful memory.