After a week of trying, I was more than ready to give up.

“We can't stop now!” I look up at Marcus from where I'm kneeling in front of the safe. “Yes, we can,” I grumble, feeling defeat.

“You already figured out how many numbers and which ones.”

“I think, I know which ones,” with a strong emphasis on 'think.'

“I don't understand. You have all those graphs. You have to be getting close.”

Scattered on the floor next to me are my graphs with the numbers I assume could be the correct numbers in the combination.

“Marcus, if these numbers aren't right, then it's a complete waste of time.”

“Marcus, why don't you give it a try?” I look over at Tim. He's been here every day but has barely said a word until now.

“I don't understand any of this math stuff. Besides, Robin is doing a great job, and I believe she can do it.” I turn and stare at the combination lock as if I can will it open.

“Maybe we all need a break. You know, get some fresh air.” Tim calmly says.

Marcus walks over to Tim and drops his voice so low I can't hear them. Maybe I don't care what they say because I'm too tired to care.

I rub my eyes, trying to get awake, when I hear them. I turn and see Marcus and Tim arguing about something.

I pick up the stethoscope and place it on the safe door, listening for what feels like the hundredth time as I turn the dial. Did I just hear a click?

I grab the paper with the list of the most recent numbers. I rotate the dial and hear another click. I turn it in the opposite direction, yet another click.

My heart speeds up. I keep going down the list, and suddenly hear something drop loose inside the safe's door.

I sit back on my heels, reach for the handle, and pull. With a loud click, the door cracks open, and with it, a burst of air escapes.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

I feel a strange sensation come over me. I take in a massive gulp of air, now realizing I have been holding my breath. Marcus looks past me, his wide eyes fixed on the safe.

“You did it! I knew you could do it! Let me see.” Marcus pushes me out of the way and jerks the door wide open. What appears to be thousands of small, wadded-up pieces of paper spill out on the basement floor.

Reaching down, I pick one up and unfold it.

“A lottery ticket?”

Marcus takes a handful and examines them. Tim finally speaks, “You think there could be winners in there?”

I pick up some more, sifting through them and noticing the dates. “This one's from twenty years ago,” I say in awe, and Marcus grabs it out of my hand.

“That doesn't make any sense.” In his disappointment or excitement, Marcus starts rooting through the remaining tickets in the safe, scattering them out over the floor. “There has to be something else in here.”

He keeps digging until all the lottery tickets are out, and the pile around our feet almost reaches our knees. Then Marcus stops, and we all three peek inside the now-empty safe.

“That's it?!” Marcus asks in bewilderment. Then his eyes fall on the pile. “There has to be a winner in there somewhere. Why else would someone hide them in a safe?” I look at Tim, who has a grim look on his face.

Marcus takes notice of him. “Don't just stand there. Help me.”

We sit down next to the pile and start sorting through the tickets. I quickly notice that the tickets are from all over the country, from different states.

“How do we know if any are winners?” Tim asks.

“There are thousands of tickets here, if not more,” I say, but Marcus isn't listening. He continues rooting through the tickets.

“What are you looking for?” I ask.

“One that's recent.”

“This doesn't make any sense, and surely, if someone won, they would have claimed the money instead of hiding it in a safe.” With this, Marcus stops what he's doing, his eyes still on the pile before him.

He stands, and I can see the disappointment on his face. With one last look at the safe, he turns and leaves without saying another word. I look at Tim's sad face, and then we both get up and follow after Marcus.

When we get outside, Marcus begins walking away. Tim catches up and puts a hand on his shoulder, but he angrily shrugs it off.

“Marcus, I'm sorry,” I start to say, but Marcus whips around and faces me.

“Don't say you're sorry.” Running his hands through his hair, he continues. “You don't get it, Robin. You're smart; you have a ticket out of this town. I'm stuck in a dead-end job, treated like crap, and paid peanuts.” I've never seen him this angry before.

“Marcus, it's going to be fine.”

“No, you don't get to say everything is going to be fine.” He starts pacing back and forth. “When I found that safe, I thought, this is it! I've got a ride to freedom.” He stops. “But now it's gone.” He kicks the tire of my car.

“Hey, enough.”

“Let's get out of here before we get mugged,” says Tim, and adds, “even though we don't have anything to steal.”

Neither Marcus nor Tim say anything on the ride back. Tim tries to give me a reassuring smile, but I'm feeling anything but reassured.

I see something in his eyes, and it is only now that I realize Tim is probably feeling the same way as Marcus.