The Broken Rosary

Daniel Lawson stared at me, the five-million-dollar scratch-off ticket crumpled in his fist.

Even the lottery shop owner froze, cigarette ash falling onto his pants without him noticing.

"Maya Carter, are you out of your mind?"

Daniel slammed his fist against the glass counter so hard that a row of cheap figurines toppled over.

"That's five million! Even after taxes, it's still four million!"

He jabbed a finger in my face, spit nearly spraying me.

"And now you're telling me you want to go back to that dirt-poor mountain hole in the middle of nowhere? You just can't stand seeing me do well, can you?"

I could not hear his yelling anymore.

The broken bead in my palm was still warm.

It came from the rosary my grandmother had carved from a tree struck by lightning, deep in the mountains.

I had worn it for twenty-four years. Fire could not burn it, water could not rot it, and a blade had never left a mark on it.

But the instant we scratched open the winning number, it had cracked against my chest with a sharp, piercing sound.

The topmost bead, the one nearest the small wooden cross, had snapped clean off the chain.

The break was smooth, as if cut by an invisible blade.

"The car keys are on the coffee table at home. The savings account password is your birthday. You can have all of it. I don't want anything."

I gritted my teeth, shoved aside the arm he used to block me, turned, and ran.

Outside, the sky was terrifyingly dark, heavy clouds pressing down over the city.

Daniel caught up in a few strides and grabbed the back of my collar.

The force yanked me backward, and I fell hard on the steps outside the lottery shop.

My knees struck the concrete with a dull thud. Before the pain even reached me, Daniel had already crouched down and clamped his hands around my shoulders.

"What are you trying to do?"

His voice was low and vicious.

"Are you trying to run off to find that first love of yours? Let me tell you, Maya Carter, I scratched that ticket. You're not taking a single cent!"

His eyes were full of suspicion and calculation.

Five million had stripped away his disguise completely.

I looked coldly at the man I had shared a bed with for three years.

There was no time.

I wrenched free of his hands and rushed to the curb.

A cab with its vacant sign lit was waiting at the light.

I pulled open the door and climbed into the back seat. Then I took out the twenty thousand in cash I had just withdrawn and threw it onto the passenger seat.

"Out of the city! Get on the highway! Drive southwest!"

I shouted at the driver.

"Floor it. All that money is yours!"

The driver was a balding middle-aged man. He jumped in fright and instinctively looked as if he wanted to throw me out.

But when his eyes flicked to the stack of cash, he swallowed.

Daniel had already reached the window and was pounding on the glass.

"Open the door! You crazy woman, get out!"

"Sir, drive!"

I stared at the driver with a bloodless face.

"He beats me. I'm running for my life!"

The driver clenched his teeth and yanked the wheel.

The cab shot forward with a screech of tires.

In the rearview mirror, Daniel grew smaller and smaller.

I collapsed against the back seat, cold sweat soaking through my clothes.

I opened my right hand.

From the grain of the broken bead, a thread of dark red liquid seeped out.

It was blood.