Chapter 1:  Debt

[Erin]

I was lying on cold hard ground.

My wrists and feet were bound behind my back, and my left knee was in excruciating pain. 

My eyes were covered, and my mouth was gagged with a piece of cloth.

Where am I?

I don't know.

How did I end up here?

My father happened. And it happened too fast for my mind to process it all.

It was after midnight, and I was sleeping when my drunken father arrived home. Nothing has changed. He was like this when I was fifteen years old, and my mother died of leukemia. He has never been sober since.

He drowned himself with alcohol and gambling. He already had forgotten that he still had a daughter that needed him.

I struggled to live and learned how to fend myself. I worked at a young age for both of us to have a roof in our head, so we had food in our fridge and covered our monthly bills. Hence, that was not enough. Working in a coffee shop isn't enough. I am not enough.

I can't leave him, though, even if I want to. He is the only family I have, and I cannot bear the thought of leaving him behind.

He woke me up that night for money. Asking me for a large sum of money that I did not have. I can see his desperation in his eyes at the time, and I've never seen him so terrified.

 "Papa? Why do you need that much money? I only have pennies to last us until next week." When I told him that, he became enraged. He begins rummaging through my belongings, flipping my drawers upside down.

I have saved some money, but that was for myself. I planned to go back to school and was saving for that, but still, it wasn't enough compared to the amount he's asking me.

 "You ungrateful little bitch! I know you have cash hidden somewhere! Give me your money before they get here!" He began yelling and destroying everything in my room. They? What is he talking about?

"I promise, Papa, I don't have any. I just paid our bills last week." I reasoned out, scooted further to my worn-out bed, afraid that he might hit me.

 My father is a large man who stands six-five feet tall, and my petite frame would have nothing to do with it if he decided to throw me against the wall.

 He had hurt me once when I told him to stop drinking liquor, and I learned not to mess with him again. With a broken bone, I couldn't walk straight for a month.

 "Liar! Where is it?!" He violently forced open my cabinet, tossing my belongings to the floor. Cursing when he couldn't find anything, then began raiding the drawers under my desk.

 That's where I kept my money.

Without thinking, I jumped out of my bed and ran to stop him.

That money is all I have for my future, and I can't have my father squander it.

"Papa, please stop this. I don't have money left. Please." I said, trying hard not to cry. His nose flared, and his face reddened with anger.

"What are you hiding? Is that where you stashed your money?!" He hollered, but I refused to budge, even though it terrified me.

"Please, Papa. That's all I've got." I pleaded with him to stop whatever he was doing.

"You dare to defy me now?" He spat, even more outraged. He grabbed my hair painfully and shoved me on the floor. I gasped in pain when my knees hit the shards of glass scattered around the base, burying deep into my flesh.

"What is this? Is this all you have? This is not enough!" He complained, holding the two thousand dollars I had stashed away for myself.

My knees were burning with pain, with blood flowing from the wound. Welling tears had made my vision hazy.

The frequent knocks drew our attention. My father blanched and cursed under his breath, looking down on me and tightly grasping both of my shoulders. Red veins protruded from his bulging eyes, sweat beaded down his brow, and his palms were clammy and cold against my skin.

"Erin, I need more money now. They will kill me. Do you want your father to get killed?" My heart beating down on my throat with dread and anxiety.

What does he get himself into this time?

I shook my head subtly. Tears had found their way down to my face. I have nothing left in me. I can't help him with what he wants.

He's already holding the money I have saved up for my future.

"Papa, I--"

"It is your fault if I'm going to die. Remember that!" He cut me off without letting me finish what I wanted to say. 

The violent knocking continues in the background as I look at my supposed to be my father. The man that was supposed to love and protect me and not blame me for the misfortune happening in his life.

How is it going to be my fault? I don't even know what is happening.

We heard the door busted open, loud footsteps entered from our entryway.

"Romanov! Come out, come out wherever you are." The intruder sang maliciously, whistling like death walking down in our house.

"Who are they?" I whispered. My heart started to beat wildly inside my rib cage. My father stiffened at their voices and ignored my inquiry.

"Where is the money that you've promised us? Romanov?" One of them called out again, footsteps shuffling as they randomly opened every door inside, drawing nearer to my room.

My father sighed, releasing me from his grip, and went outside my room without bothering to close my door.

"Viktor, why do you have to come here to my house? I told you I'll give you the money tomorrow." I heard my father say nervously. Does he know them?

"Come on, Romanov. You don't have my money, do you? I mean, where will you get a hundred thousand dollars in one night?" The man scoffed.

My eyes went wide from the amount he's asking. Shock is an understatement. Hundred thousand dollars? He's gambling on that considerable amount of money? Did he lose? Is that why these people are after him? He owed them big time.

I slowly stood up, a sharp pain shooting on my left knee, but I clamped my hands down on my mouth to keep from making any noise and listened closely to their conversation. 

Are they going to hurt him if he can't pay? Should I call the police?

Yes, that's the right thing to do. Call the police. My phone laid on my bedside table. I carefully hobbled my way towards it and picked up my phone.

I quickly dialed the emergency hotline, but my thumb hovered over the call button. I heard a loud thud followed by my father's voice shouting in pain, but what he said next made my heart drop.

"My daughter. I have a daughter. Take her instead. Please don't hurt me."

How can a father sell the life of his child like that?

How can a man be so soulless and take one's life?

In front of me, I saw with my own eyes how the man named Viktor shot my father in the head after they chased me down outside our house.

I managed to jump out of the window after my father had said that, but it was too late. I didn't know there were many of them outside. My injured knee was not helping any better.

I was mortified by the scene that flashed in front of me. I thought my heart would stop beating, and my mind went blank as the man I had known as my father was murdered. 

The last thing I remember was being hit by something behind my head.

That's how I got here.

The ground I am lying on vibrated, yanking me back to my present situation. I am in a vehicle, that's for sure. Judging by the sound of the engine roaring to life.

I felt something shifted beside me, followed by a whimper and another one not far away from me.

I am not alone.

There were many of us inside.

A clang of metal chains caught my hearing and an unfamiliar voice.

"How many of them?"

"Ten, boss." Another voice replied.

"Good. Take them to Kirstina and prepare for the auction."

Auction? Cold seeped through my voice as I heard the metal doors groaning closed and the heavy clicking of padlocks imprisoning us. Sobs echoed around me as the vehicle accelerated, taking us to our impending damnation.

They are selling us?