Bought for him

In the middle of the night, Channelle felt thirsty. She dragged herself out of bed, eyes barely open, holding the stair railing to steady herself. She pushed the kitchen door open — and froze. Her parents were sitting at the small dining table, whispering. Her mother's shoulders were shaking. Channelle quickly hid behind the door to listen. "George, we barely have money to support ourselves and now this..." Mrs. Peterson said, her voice breaking into tears. "I know, but—" "But what? There's no way we can afford this!" Mrs. Peterson cut him off, burying her face in her palms. "My baby is such a good boy. Who would ever think of taking him to jail?" Mrs. Peterson was sobbing now. "Vivi, please don't cry. We'll get him out. Look, I have a hundred thousand in savings. We only need two hundred thousand more. It'll be fine," Mr. Peterson said, rubbing her back to comfort her. "WHAT..." Channelle screamed and stormed into the kitchen. The colour drained from her parents' faces. "Elliot's in jail? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Channelle asked, her voice sharp and serious. "Baby, what are you doing here? Go back to bed," Mrs. Peterson said, quickly wiping her tears. "Mom, how? When did this happen?" Channelle asked, tears already filling her eyes. After all, Elliot was her beloved brother — they had grown up inseparable. "Honey, come. Let me take you upstairs, okay? We'll talk about this in the morning," Mrs. Peterson said as she stood up, wiped her face with the back of her hand, and took her daughter's hand to lead her upstairs. Mr. Peterson sat alone in the dark kitchen, his head in his hands, thinking of how to find the remaining two hundred thousand dollars needed to bail his son. Just then, his phone lit up with a text. He stared at it — and froze. Unknown Number: I heard your son Elliot is in trouble. I can get him out of jail tonight and clear the $300,000 bail. In exchange, I want your daughter, Channelle. Mr. Peterson's hands started shaking