The Debt of Blood
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Summary
My father raised me on one principle: fair exchange.
If I wanted anything, I had to earn it myself.
Fifty cents for washing the dishes. A dollar for mopping the floor. Five dollars for a perfect score on a test.
To buy the pair of white sneakers I had been dreaming of, I spent three months collecting recyclables.
In that house, I lived like a pieceworker, paid by the task.
It was not until my senior year of high school that everything began to crack. I collapsed during morning study, my body worn down by years of malnutrition.
The doctor said I needed better nutrition.
