When I go home for the holidays, I find out that my dad has installed a facial recognition machine at the front door.

"You'll have to pay an entry fee of 50 thousand dollars. Will you be paying by card or payment code?"

I thought my dad was joking at first. As I laugh, I attempt to walk through the front door while pushing my luggage forward.

But my mom passes me a price list with an icy look. "That'll be 200 dollars for dragging stuff across the floor. You'll also be charged 1,000 dollars per hour for using up the air."

I'm stunned by her words. "Mom, stop messing around already!"

But when I walk into the house, I realize that the air inside has disappeared. Unable to breathe, my face soon turns bright red out of suffocation as I kneel down on the floor.

My mom huffs coldly again. "If you want to live, then pay up!"

With great difficulty, I dig out my phone and pay the fees. Once the transaction is done, I can feel air rushing through my nostrils and into my lungs. For a few moments, I pant heavily.

As I stare at my cold-looking parents, I finally feel that something is off. So, I scramble up to my feet and rush for the door.

But that's when I find out that the front door is already welded shut. There's a payment code pasted on the door as well as a message.

"Exit fee. One million dollars."

Looking at the heavy steel bars welded across the door, my mind went blank.

I spun around and shouted, "Are you insane? This is illegal confinement!"

Dad sat on the couch without even looking up. He held a cigarette between his fingers and pointed at a payment code on the coffee table. "Noise complaint fee. That's 500 bucks."

I trembled with rage and slammed my suitcase hard onto the floor. "I'm done! Open the door. I'm leaving!"

Mom walked out from the kitchen with a cleaning rag in her hand. She pointed at the floor beneath my feet. "Floor damage. 50 bucks per step."

I looked down. On the once-familiar floor tiles, every single one now had a thumb-sized payment code stuck to it.

I glanced around, and a chill ran down my spine. The television, the refrigerator, the dining table, even the wall calendar—everything was plastered with payment codes.

The couch armrest had writing scrawled across it. "Seating fee. Ten dollars per minute."

The curtains read, "Sunlight usage fee. 300 dollars per hour."

Even the bathroom door had a sign hanging on it. "Waste disposal fee. 5,000 dollars per use."

I took a step back and bumped into the shoe cabinet behind me. The sensor on the cabinet chimed. "Collision depreciation fee. 2,000 dollars."

I gasped, my throat bone-dry. The suffocating sensation from earlier left me severely dehydrated. I desperately needed water.

I carefully navigated around the payment codes on the floor and made my way to the kitchen. But Mom blocked the sink, staring me down.

"Water?" My voice came out hoarse.

She pulled out a disposable paper cup from behind her back. Inside was half a cup of murky liquid with unidentifiable sediment floating in it.

"Survival water. 2,000 dollars per cup," she said expressionlessly. "No credit. Pay first."

I stared at her in disbelief. "I'm your son! You're charging me two grand for a cup of dirty water?"

"If you won't drink it, get out." She slammed the cup down hard on the counter. "Every drop costs money. You think it just appears out of thin air?"

I clenched my jaw, my stomach churning. I didn't want to argue with them anymore. I just wanted to retreat to my room, lie down for a while, and make sense of this madness.

I turned and rushed toward the bedroom.

The door was tightly shut. Thick iron chains wrapped around the doorknob, secured with a massive copper lock.

Dad somehow was already standing by the door. He held a black card reader in his hand, blocking my path.

"Accommodation fee. 5,000 dollars per night." He shoved the reader toward me. "If you don't want to sleep in the hallway, swipe your card."

I clenched my fists. "This house is partly mine too! Why are you charging me?"

"Because you're living here right now." His tone was harsh, leaving no room for negotiation. "No money? Then sleep in the bathroom. It's cheaper than the room."

I looked at the balance on my phone. It was the savings from a year of hard work. I'd already spent quite a bit just getting through the door and buying air.

But exhaustion and lingering dizziness from the oxygen deprivation made it hard to stay on my feet. Gritting my teeth, I took out my card and swiped it viciously.

"Beep. Transaction successful."

Only then did Dad pull out a key and unlock the door.

The room was bare. The mattress on the bed was gone, replaced by a hard wooden plank. I collapsed onto it without even a blanket.

In the middle of the night, I jolted awake. That terrible suffocating sensation returned.

The air in my lungs felt like it was being sucked out, my chest ready to burst. I frantically clawed at my throat and rolled off the bed.

By the moonlight streaming through the window, I saw Dad standing at the head of the bed.

Dad gripped a tube in his hand, the one connected to my room's air vent.

His face twisted with rage as he screamed, "Out of money? Then stop breathing! Do you have any idea how much each breath of oxygen costs?"

I opened my mouth wide, trying to gasp for air. My hands shook as I raised my phone.

A bright red warning box flashed across the screen. "Payment Overdue. Air Supply Suspended."

The balance showed zero.

"Dad... I... I'm out of money..." I dropped to my knees and grabbed at his pants. Dignity meant nothing when survival was at stake. "Please... give me air..."

Dad kicked my hands away and stared down at me coldly. "No money? What about your credit card? What about loans? As long as you can pay, you can breathe!"

I fumbled for the credit card in my wallet, my fingers trembling. It was for emergency only, money I'd been saving for a down payment on a house.

I operated the card reader with shaking hands. I processed a cash advance, transferred it, and reloaded my account. 50 thousand dollars vanished in an instant.

"Ding! Reload successful."

Fresh air rushed back into the room. I gulped it down greedily, tears and snot streaming down my face.

The feeling of having my life in someone else's hands was unbearable. I had to call the police. I huddled in the corner and dialed 911 with trembling fingers.

The call wouldn't go through. A red X appeared in the signal bar at the top of my phone screen, showing there was no signal. The entire house seemed to be blocked off from the outside world.

I frantically opened my settings and searched for Wi-Fi. Only one network appeared in the list, named, "Lifeline".

No password was required, but when I connected, an authentication page popped up automatically.

"Internet access fee. 1,000 dollars per minute."

I clicked connect. Money didn't matter anymore. I had to get help.

The moment I connected, my messages exploded with notifications. I opened the family group chat and tapped on conversations with my aunts and uncles.

My fingers flew across the keyboard. "Help! Mom and Dad have lost it! They locked me in and are extorting me! Someone call the police!"

Replies came flooding in immediately.

Aunt Ellie: "Give them the money!"

Uncle James: "Give them everything you have! Right now!"

My cousin Caleb Jones: "Don't hold back, give them all of it! Hurry!"

Every response was identical, down to the punctuation marks. The phone's glow cast a ghostly pallor across my face. These weren't normal replies. The entire world had gone insane.

I threw my phone aside and ran to the window. If the door was welded shut, I'd jump out. This was the third floor, maybe I'd break some bones from the fall, but it was better than suffocating to death.

I grabbed a chair and smashed it against the glass. It shattered on impact. I leaned out, but the sight beyond froze me solid.

Outside the window was pitch black emptiness.

I reached out to touch the darkness beyond. A cold, mechanical voice echoed through the void.

"Warning. Departure will result in death."

I stumbled backward and collapsed to the floor. The chair slipped from my grip and tumbled into the void without making a sound.

I huddled in the corner of my room, shaking until dawn broke. Eventually, Mom knocked on the door to call me for breakfast.

I shuffled to the living room like a zombie. A plate of ravioli sat on the dining table. The ravioli skins were blackened and gave off a strange odor, as if they'd been sitting out for days.

A small sign stood beside the plate. "Premium Nutrition Meal. 100,000 dollars."

I stared at the ravioli, my stomach twisting. "I'm not eating that…"

"You have to eat!" Dad slammed his fist on the table, his eyes bulging. "If you don't eat, you won't have energy! And if you don't have energy, how will you earn money to pay your bills?"

He was still wearing the same old clothes from last night. His eyes were sunken, and he looked even more haggard than I did. Neither of them touched the food. They just stared at me.

I picked up a ravioli and shoved it in my mouth. It was rancid, but I didn't dare spit it out.

The moment I swallowed, a sharp pain tore through my chest.

"Ahhh!"

I screamed and collapsed to the floor, clutching my chest. My body convulsed beyond my control, and my vision went dark.

"Dad… help me… it hurts…"

I reached out to him. He didn't move to help. He just watched me writhe in agony, then pulled a grimy little glass vial from his pocket.

A handwritten label was stuck to it. "Miracle Cure."

The liquid inside was murky and foul, looking even dirtier than the water from before.

"This dose costs 200,000 dollars." He stared down at me, his voice devoid of warmth. "Can you afford it?"

I writhed on the floor in agony, cold sweat soaking through my clothes.

"You're… you're monsters…" I sobbed. "I'm your son. Why are you doing this to me?"

"Shut up!"

Dad exploded. He snatched my phone and grabbed my finger, forcing it against the screen to unlock it. He tapped through each app. Loan notifications kept chiming as he maxed out every line of credit I had.

"Paid! The money's paid!" Tears welled in his eyes, but his face contorted as he shouted. He grabbed my jaw and forced my mouth open.

"Drink! Drink it now! You're in debt anyway, so drink! If you don't want to die, drink it!"

The vial of filthy liquid was poured roughly down my throat. I choked and coughed violently, but he clamped his hand over my mouth and made me swallow.

The dirty water had a sickeningly sweet taste as it slid into my stomach. Miraculously, the searing pain in my chest began to ease.

I collapsed on the floor, gasping for air, feeling like I'd just walked through the gates of hell and back. Before I could get up, the floor shook violently.

Dust rained down from the ceiling, and the light fixture swayed wildly. I looked at my parents in terror. "We need to get out! It's an earthquake!"

But they started frantically moving things around the house.

"Quick! Sell the TV!" Mom shrieked. With a wave of her hand, the television mounted on the wall vanished into thin air.

"The couch too! Sell the couch!" Dad yelled. The heavy leather couch disappeared in the next second.

As the furniture vanished piece by piece, the house grew colder and colder. The once-warm living room was now freezing. I shivered uncontrollably, my teeth chattering.

Mom suddenly rushed over and pulled off the only coat she wore. It was an old quilted jacket she'd had for years, the cuffs worn through.

She wrapped the jacket tightly around me and buttoned it securely. She was left in nothing but a thin long-sleeved shirt. She huddled in the freezing air, her lips turning purple, but her eyes remained fixed on the empty house.

"Just a little longer. We can make it one more day…" she muttered through chattering teeth.

"Mom, what are you doing?"

I tried to take the jacket off and give it back to her, but she pressed my hands down.

"Don't! Keep it on! You'll freeze!" She glared at me fiercely, then turned and retreated to the corner.

I didn't understand. Why would she give me her only coat after being so cold to me moments ago?

I searched through the bare living room, trying to find even the smallest clue. Finally, in the corner where the TV stand used to be, I found a hidden metal box. It was the box where we kept important documents.

I opened it with trembling hands. There was no property deed or bankbook inside, just a pile of papers covered in fingerprints.

I picked them up, and my eyes widened. They were wrinkled agreements, the handwriting messy, stained with dark red marks.

"Organ Donation Compensation Agreement."

"High-Interest Loan Contract."

And at the bottom was one in Dad's handwriting, the signature shaky and uneven. "Kidney sale agreement. Voluntary. Payment on receipt."

I clutched the paper and jerked my head up to look at Dad.

"What is this?" I threw the agreement in front of him, my voice raw. "It wasn't enough to bleed me dry? You had to sell your kidney too? Who the hell do you owe money to? Answer me! Say something!"

Dad acted like he hadn't heard me. He didn't even glance at the paper. He just stared at some fixed point in empty space.

Suddenly, he screamed at the air like a madman. "Renew it! Renew it now! Don't cut me off! I have money! I just sold my kidney! I have money!"

I watched him spiral into hysteria, my blood running cold. "Dad, it's me! It's Nate! Look at me!"

I lunged forward and grabbed him by the collar.

"Get off me!" He shoved me away with shocking force. "You don't understand anything! Without money, you die!"

He backhanded me across the face. The blow was brutal. My ears rang and my vision swam.

"Who do you think I sold my kidney for? It was to keep you alive!"