Debt to the Mafia

I turned over onto my side in my bed to look at the clock on my table. ‘11:00pm’. I was woken up by the sound of my parents yelling at each other downstairs. They argued occasionally, but there was something chilling about the tone of my mother’s voice. She was screaming at my dad with a desperation that I haven’t heard before. I shut my eyes and tried to ignore it but my mother’s voice was ear piercing. I rolled out of bed and threw on my silk pink dressing gown over my matching pyjamas. My brunette hair fell straight down to the middle of my back and my bright green eyes were filled with concern. I wasn’t the tallest which made it easier to hide as I made my way out to the landing. “There is nothing I can do Cherrie, they’re on their way now! If you’ve got a better idea then please feel free to share it with me!” He yelled in his deep gruff voice. “I won’t let you do this Allan! You can’t!” She screamed at him. I started to get really worried about the situation they were arguing about and took a few steps towards the staircase. Unfortunately, our house isn’t the newest and the boards under bare my feet creaked, giving me away. “Amelia?!” My mum called out. I was frozen still and the tense atmosphere deadened. I waited for a moment, hoping they would continue with their conversation, but my dad appeared from the living room and looked up at me standing at the top of the stairs. He was dressed in his pyjama shorts and a vest top. He wasn’t exactly skinny but he wasn’t overweight either, I guess you could say he had a bit of a dad bod which wasn’t bad for the age of 46. His silvery hair was messed up and his brown eyes were looking up at me. “Come down here Amelia” he ordered in the softest tone he could muster. I hesitated for a second and then lifted my foot to step down onto the first step but my mother interrupted me. “No Amelia! Go back to your room and lock the door!” She yelled in a panicked tone. I lowered my brows with concern and looked at her as she scurried over to stand next to my dad. Her short, brown, curly hair bounced as she rushed over in her velvet nightie. She was 3 years younger than dad but she looked like she was in her 30’s. Her face was flawless and there were only tiny dents where her wrinkles had started to form. “What? Why?” I asked. My mum looked up at me with her deep blue eyes filled with worry. “Cherrie!” My dad snapped at her but she ignored him. “You heard me, get to your room and secure the door!” She desperately demanded. “What’s going on?!” They’ve never acted like this towards me. They seemed... scared. My parents have always seems so happy and content, nothing seemed to bother them - or at least they hid it well. “Cherrie! There is nothing we can do!” He groaned as he turned to her. Before anyone could say another word, there was a loud knock at the door. My mother jumped out of her skin. Her entire body language switched from being defensive to terrified. “No, no, please don’t Al” she pleaded but my dad didn’t say a word. Instead, he took one glance back up at me with apologetic eyes and made his way to the door. My mum looked up at me and mouthed the word ‘run’. I scrunched my face up with confusion. “What’s going on?” I asked her. My dad opened the door and two men were standing there with their arms folding across their chests. They were all in black with leather black jackets on that reflected in the porch light. The smaller one had dark brown hair and deep blue eyes, his rounded face was covered with stubble and he looked about 26. The taller man looked a bit older, maybe 28 and had a meaner look to him. He had the same coloured eyes but his hair was darker than the other guys’, he also had a slightly bigger built. His chiselled jaw was tensed and his muscular arms were folded across his chest. “Mr Johnson?” The taller one asked to which my father nodded. He moved away from the door and the two men walked in followed by a third. This man screamed danger. His hair was dark brown and swept back revealing a large tattoo on the side of his neck. His features were difficult to see as his head was tilted away from me but I could tell they were dark. He was dressed identically to the other two men apart from his shirt, his t-shirt that sat under his leather jacket was pure white. He didn’t say a word until the door was shut behind him. “I believe we have some business we need to take care of Mr. Johnson”. Although he spoke polite words, his voice was dark and threatening. My dad looked uneasy as he nodded back at him. “I was promised 8 million” my dad finally said. The mans face cracked slightly and he let out a laugh filled with pure evil. “Mr Johnson, how much do you owe?” He asked in a sarcastic tone and took a step closer to my dad. He hesitated and glared at the man. “Don’t make me repeat myself Mr Johnson, it infuriates me” he growled. “5 million” dad confessed. I tried to hold in my gasp as he revealed the extent of the debt he was in. I knew we were in trouble with money but that was a lot more than I had even considered. “Right, so why do you want 8?” The man asked. “It’s to get us up and running again, we won’t have anything if we didn’t get our business in order” he explained. The man place his hand to his chin and pinched it as he circled my dad. “Hmmm, well then we are in a bit of a pickle aren’t we? We agreed on 5 Mr Johnson, not 8. Which means you have two options...” he paused as he walked over to my mother. She tensed up tighter and tighter the closer the man got to her. “Either, we continue as agreed with 5 million or... you give me something worth the extra 3” he said. His hand raised up towards my mum and stroked her neck gently. She flinched and shut her eyes tightly, trying to blank out the intimidation. “I don’t know what else I have to offer” dad interrupted. The man smirked at him and then slowly crept back to where he stood before. “We agreed on some rules...” he trailed off and then looked at the two men. One of them took out some paper work from a briefcase he with him and handed it to the man. “Well I’ve written up a contract agreeing to your terms minus the rules, just in case something like this was to happen” he stated as he handed the document to my dad. I watched quietly as he took a moment to scan through it. Once he had finished he sighed deeply and then nodded. “No! Allan please! They could kill her!” My mum screamed. My heart shot into the pit of my stomach as I realised what the ‘transaction’ involved... me! “Amelia run!” She screamed and the men snapped their heads to look up at me. I was frozen for a moment, like a deer in headlights. I saw one of the men begin to make their way up the stairs towards me and I darted for my room. Slamming the door shut, I quickly turned the key and pushed my wardrobe against it. They were banging against the wood before I had even got my wardrobe flush against the door. Once it was in place I stepped back slowly, scanning my room for some sort of exit or a weapon to use to defend myself. I saw my lamp on the side table and grabbed it, ripping it out of the plug. I held it tightly against my chest, prepared to attack whoever entered the room. As I stood beside the wardrobe, I could hear my mum screaming downstairs. It enhanced the adrenaline pumping through me as I readied myself. Suddenly, the door snapped and the wood broke apart. It jammed against the wardrobe which gave me a second to compose myself. After three more thuds, the wardrobe moved enough to let one of the men in. I held the lamp above my head and brought it down onto his head before rushed out of the room. I ran towards the stairs and scurried down them. I grabbed the door handle and turned it, ready to escape the terror that was unfolding inside the house. A pair of hands grabbed my arms and pulled me back into the house as soon as I managed to open the door and take a step out. I gasped and let out a loud scream, hoping one of the neighbours would hear and come to our rescue. One of the large hands that were restraining me covered my mouth and pulled me into his body as the shorter guy shut the door, still rubbing his head from where I had hit him. I shuffled and wriggled, trying to break free but the man was so strong that I hardly made any progress. He moved me round so that I was facing the kitchen, which was at the end of the hallway, and the man with white shirt was standing there with his arms folded. He looked amused at my attempt to escape and then started clapping. “Nearly principessa” he smirked. The man I had struck was still rubbing his sore head, which caught the man’s eye. “Mario, non essere una tale fighetta” (don’t be such a p***y). I didn’t know a word of Italian so I couldn’t understand what he was saying but his tone was sarcastic. The man looked embarrassed and lowered his head. “Ricco, take her to the car while I finish up with Mr Johnson” he ordered the man that was holding me. “No! You’re not taking me anywhere! Dad please!” I begged but the man holding me just cupped my mouth once again to muffle my words. The other guy who I assumed was Mario, opened the door and headed towards the black BMW that was parked outside. He opened the back door ready for the other man to put me in. I struggled but failed at breaking free from his strong grip. I heard my mum screaming my name but I guessed that my dad was holding her back because her voice faded as I got closer to the car. The man shoved me into the back seat and shut the door. I slid over to the other side as quick as I could and tried to open it. Great, child lock. I bashed against the windows and screamed as loud as I could, trying to get a neighbours attention once again, but it was as if the car was sound proof. There was no movement from any of the houses that surrounded me. Every light was off and the street was dead. I looked back at the house and noticed the front door was shut and the man was walking towards the car with confidence in every step he took. How could my dad do this? How could he sell his only daughter?