Sophia
"Please… just give me more time."
I stood at the kitchen sink, scrubbing at the stubborn grease on a cracked ceramic plate, trying not to think about the mounting pile of unpaid bills on the counter. The faucet dripped rhythmically, a sound I had gotten accustomed to. My father's voice boomed from the living room, rough with drink, arguing with someone I couldn't see.
It wasn't unusual for him to have loud conversations late into the night. Usually, it was with himself, or the bottom of an alcohol bottle. But this time, the tone was different. Sharper. Desperate. I wiped my hands on a faded dish towel and edged closer to the door, careful not to make a sound.
"You had your chance, Mr. Alvarez. The boss doesn't take kindly to delays."
The voice was calm but held an undertone of menace. Just the sound of the voice rooted me to my spot. I didn't know who the men were, but I'd heard enough over the years to guess.
"I just need more time," my father pleaded, his voice cracking. "I swear I'll get it. The money's coming; you have to believe me."
"That would be the fifth time you're saying the same thing. How come the money is still not here?"
I peeped through the hole between the door and its frame, trying to get a peek at the faces in the living room. A man in a dark suit towered over my father, while the other stood watching at the corner. But my father on his knees took the entirety of my attention.
"We've already given you more time than you deserve," the taller man said, his tone icy. "The boss doesn't wait for fools."
The other man stepped forward, and something in his hand caught the dim light. My heart seized. A gun.
I froze, my mind racing. This couldn't be real. Things like this didn't happen to people like us. We were nobodies. Small-town losers with piles of debt, struggling to make ends meet. My father had his demons, but he wasn't a criminal.
Was he?
"I'll pay him back," my father stammered. "I swear it. Just… just don't hurt me."
The taller man chuckled, a sound devoid of humor. "Oh, we're not here to hurt you, Mr. Alvarez. That just depends on you."
My blood turned cold as the man's gaze shifted, his eyes locking onto mine. I hadn't realised I'd opened the kitchen door until it was too late. The smaller of the two men turned, following his partner's gaze, and a slow, predatory grin spread across his face the moment he saw me.
"Well, well," he drawled. "What do we have here?"
I backed up instinctively, my shoulders hitting the doorframe. "I-I didn't mean to interrupt," I stammered, my voice barely audible.
The taller man tilted his head, studying me like a hawk sizing up its prey. "You didn't tell us you had a daughter, Mr. Alvarez."
"No!" my father shouted, scrambling to his feet. "Leave her out of this. She's got nothing to do with it."
"She's got everything to do with it," the smaller man countered, his grin widening. "The boss always gets what he's owed. If you can't pay in cash…" He gestured toward me, and the implication hit like a slap to the face.
"No," I whispered, shaking my head. "You can't—"
"Don't touch her!" my father bellowed, lunging toward them. He didn't make it far. The taller man struck him across the face with the butt of his gun, sending him crashing back onto the couch.
The sound of the impact snapped something inside me. "Stop!" I screamed, rushing toward my father. The smaller man intercepted me, his grip like iron around my arm.
"Do you think the boss would accept this? You know how much he despises human collateral." The smaller said to his partner.
"She's more than human collateral. This man doesn't just owe us, he knows something about the Martinos'. She would stand as bought a collateral and a leverage."
The grin was back to the smaller man's face, planting more dread in the pit of my stomach
"Let me go!" I twisted, yanking against his hold, but it was like fighting against stone. Panic surged through me, drowning out every rational thought.
"Dad! Do something!"
"I'm sorry, I know nothing of what they're saying." my father croaked, blood trickling from his split lip. He looked at me with broken, sad eyes. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I—"
"Save the apologies," the taller man said, grabbing my other arm. "You've had your chances. This is what happens when you waste them."
"Please ..."
"It's either her, or your life….make a choice."
The look in my father's eyes drawed, and the sadness and sympathy he felt towards me was gone. The man chose to save his own skin.
"Dad …." My voice sounded haunted, like it wasn't mine, but he threw away his gaze.
"Good choice, Mr. Alvarez, good choice."
I fought harder, kicking and flailing, but they dragged me toward the door like I weighed nothing. My screams echoed in the tiny house, but I knew no one would come. We lived too far from anyone who might care.
As they shoved me into the backseat of a black SUV, I realized how completely powerless I was. My father had gambled away not just money but my freedom, my safety, my future. And now, I was at the mercy of men who saw me as nothing more than collateral.
"Please don't take me away." I pleaded, trying to forcefully open the door.
"You'll learn to be quiet," the smaller man said, glancing at me over his shoulder. "Or it'll be a long ride."
A blindfold came over my face, a handkerchief pressing against my nose. I fought, but the drugs began to kick in as I slowly give in to its effects.
"She'll be more than quiet."
Those were the last words I heard before it completely went blank.