Chapter 2Funding the Flame

When I was eighteen, my dad racked up a mountain of gambling debt and ran away, leaving me behind.

The debt collectors smashed our house to pieces.

I lived like a stray dog, hiding out wherever I could.

After school, I didn't dare go home.

I barely had any money left in my pockets.

There was a cybercafe near my high school where an overnight pass cost twenty bucks.

The owner looked like a gang leader—a shock of bleached blond hair and sleeves full of tattoos.

That place was a haven for delinquents, reeking of cheap smoke and clicking keyboards.

I stood at the door, hesitating for a long time before I dared to walk in.

"I... I want an overnight pass."

He looked up. He had high brow bones and narrow, sharp eyes.

"You an adult?"

He radiated a dangerous energy that terrified me.

I frantically pulled out my ID.

Thank God. I had just turned eighteen last month.

The cybercafe had small private booths with a computer and a tiny, narrow sofa.

I put my backpack down, read my textbooks, and did practice tests.

When I got hungry, I gnawed on half a cold bagel I had saved from lunch.

When I got tired, I curled up on that tiny sofa.

It was hard, and it got freezing at night.

But it was the cheapest place I could find.

At least no one was coming in the middle of the night to smash windows or throw red paint.

For the next few days, I went straight there after school.

Finally, the umpteenth time I handed over my ID, Roman looked up, visibly annoyed:

"You're a student. Shouldn't you be studying? Why the hell are you always at an internet cafe?"

I opened my mouth, then lowered my head and muttered:

"None of your business..."

He cursed under his breath and ignored me.

Until one late night, a drunk guy in the booth next to mine kicked my door open.

"You little brat, hiding out here?!"

"If you can't pay back the cash, that's fine. I know some guys who'd love a pretty boy like you. Come on, I'll find you a way out!"

I struggled frantically to get away.

He kicked me to the ground, raising his fist:

"Don't be a ungrateful little bitch! You want me to kill you?"

Hearing the commotion, Roman stormed over, grabbed the guy by the collar, and threw him out the front door.

He kicked the guy viciously while he was down:

"You dare start shit in my territory? You got a death wish?"

He hit hard. The guy didn't stop wailing.

When Roman came back inside, his anger hadn't faded. He glared at me:

"If you're not playing games, why the fuck are you practically living here?"

"I... I'm surfing the web..."

"Your monitor is turned off! What web are you surfing?!"

He impatiently tried to kick me out.

"Hurry up and go home! This ain't a place for a good student like you!"

I refused to move.

After a long silence, I whispered:

"I... I don't have a home."

He scratched his head in frustration, grabbed my backpack, and said:

"Follow me."

Behind the cybercafe was a rundown one-bedroom apartment.

It was a mess. Clothes piled on the sofa, empty beer cans on the coffee table.

He pointed to the room. "Here. Ten bucks a night. You staying or not?"

I had no other choice, and no energy to worry about whether it was safe.

"I'm staying."

He tossed me a spare key, turned around, and left.