I don’t bother speaking. Not like my voice will let me anyway. I sign the words, sharp and clipped, her eyes flicker to my hands, and I expect the usual confusion, the blank stare she always gives to me whenever I sign to her. But this time…
She understands.
I freeze, throat tightening.
“You’re surprised,” she says quietly, managing a sad smile. “I’ve been… practicing for about two years, YouTube videos helped too. I thought maybe if you ever came back…” Her voice trails off, and she shakes her head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter now.”
It does. It matters more than I can explain, but the knot in my chest tightens before I can think about it.
“Why am I here?” I sign again, slower this time.“What did you do?”
She flinches, shoulders folding in like she’s waiting for a blow.
“It’s about the loan shark,” she murmurs, eyes flicking to the floor. “They’ve been coming around more often, Lucas. I didn’t know who else to call.”
I blink at her, confusion hardening into anger. My hands rise, cutting the air with sharp signs, deliberate and slow, as if she’s stupid.
“I’ve been paying it off. Every month. Sending the money like we agreed. What are you talking about?”
Her lips part, then press into a tight line.
“I paid for some months… and didn’t for others.”
My breath stutters. I sign faster now, fury dragging my movements jagged.
“There’s only five thousand left. Five. I was going to send it this week. That’s all that was left.”
Her eyes glisten. “It’s more than that now.”
My stomach turns cold.“How much?”
She hesitates, silence choking the room.
“How much, Mom?”
Her voice breaks. “Seventy.”
The word rips the air out of my lungs. I stagger back, like she’s just hit me across the face.
“Seventy… thousand?”
“I’m sorry,” she chokes, reaching out with trembling fingers. “I tried, Lucas, I really did. But I couldn’t keep up. I thought…” her words falter, her throat closing, “I thought if I invested some of it, I could double it. Pay it off faster.”
“Liar.”
Her face crumples. “Lucas—”
“It wasn’t investing. It was gambling. And drinking.”
She doesn’t deny it. Her silence is louder than any confession.
I drag a shaking hand through my curls, the room tilting. My savings. My rent. Every damn extra shift. Every sleepless night.Every ache in my body from scraping money together for her— for this woman. This hollow, broken shell who once kissed my forehead goodnight, who swore the world would never hurt me.
She lied.
She’s always lied.
My hands rise again, slower now, deadly precise.
