THE DEBT BETWEEN US

THE PRICE OF A DEBT The first thing I noticed when I opened the front door was the smell. Whiskey. Cigarettes. And trouble. It was almost midnight, but the living room lights were still on. My father sat on the couch with a glass in one hand and a cigarette burning between the fingers of the other. Crumpled betting slips covered the table in front of him. “You’re late.” I tightened my grip on my bag. “My shift ended late.” “That’s what you always say.” I had spent almost thirteen hours at the hospital. My feet hurt, my back ached, and all I wanted was a shower and a few hours of sleep. “I’m going upstairs.” “Sit down, Elena.” My stomach tightened. Still, I obeyed. I always did. “You still have money from your paycheck?” There it was. “I already gave you money last week.” “That wasn’t what I asked.” “I need the rest for transportation and food.” His glass slammed onto the table hard enough to make me flinch. “You live under my roof. You eat my food. Stop acting like your money belongs only to you.” I swallowed my anger. Arguing never helped. It only gave him another reason to remind me of what I had supposedly taken from him. “How much?” he demanded. “Dad, please.” His eyes narrowed. “Your mother never complained this much.” My breathing stopped. “Don’t.” “Don’t what? Mention her?” “I’m tired.” “She’d be alive if it weren’t for you.” The words struck exactly where he intended them to. For a moment, I was six again. A red ball rolling into the road. My small shoes hitting the pavement. My mother’s terrified face. A truck horn. Her hands shoving me away. Then the ground. Blood. Screaming. Mom. “I was six,” I whispered. “You were old enough to know not to run into the road.” I looked away before he could see the tears burning behind my eyes. The worst part was that some part of me still believed him. Maybe that was why I had never left. Maybe guilt had become another lock on the front door. Then I noticed his hand shaking as he reached for his cigarette. He wasn’t only drunk. He was afraid. “What happened?” He said nothing. My eyes moved to the table. Bills. Betting slips. A folded piece of paper covered in numbers. At the bottom was an amount that made my chest go cold. ₱3,800,000. I stared at it. “What is this?” He snatched the paper away. “Nothing.” “Three point eight million isn’t nothing.” “Lower your voice.” “Who do you owe?” Silence. Then headlights swept across the curtains. My father froze. A black car had stopped outside. Even behind the curtains, I could tell it was expensive. My father stood immediately. “You’re going upstairs.” I didn’t move. “Who is that?” “Elena.” “Who is it?” Three slow knocks sounded at the door. For the first time in years, I saw genuine fear in my father’s eyes. “Go upstairs.” The knocking came again. Before I could reach the stairs, the front door opened. My father hadn’t locked it. Two men in black suits entered first. Behind them came a third man, older, with silver at his temples and a perfectly tailored suit. He didn’t look like someone who needed to raise his voice to be feared. My father suddenly looked much smaller. “Victor.” The man smiled. “Daniel.” Victor’s eyes moved around the room before settling on me. “And this must be Elena.” I stepped back. “How do you know my name?” My father wouldn’t look at me. That frightened me more than the strangers. Victor sat on the couch as though he owned the house. “Your father and I have been discussing his debt.” “I don’t have anything to do with his gambling.” “No,” Victor said calmly. “You don’t.” Something about his tone made my skin crawl. I turned to my father. “What did you promise him?” “Elena, go upstairs.” Victor chuckled. “She deserves to know.” My father’s face went pale. “I had no choice.” My heart began pounding. “No choice about what?” “You don’t understand the people I owe.” “Then explain it.” Victor crossed one ankle over his knee. “Your father owes me a considerable amount of money. He cannot repay it.” “I can help him make payments.” Victor almost smiled. “On a nurse’s salary?” I said nothing. “No, Elena. This debt is beyond monthly payments.” My father stared at the floor. “What did you do?” He didn’t answer. Victor did. “We reached another arrangement.” The room suddenly felt too small. “What arrangement?” Victor looked at me slowly. Not with desire. Worse. He looked at me as though I were something that had already been bought. Then my father spoke. Barely above a whisper. “You’re going to marry him.” For several seconds, I heard nothing. Not even my own breathing. “What?” “You’re drunk.” “Elena—” “Tomorrow you’ll wake up and realize how insane that sounded.” “This isn’t a joke.” My smile disappeared. I looked at Victor, then at my father. “No.” My father’s head snapped up. “What did you say?” “I said no.” I had disobeyed him before. Small things. Coming home late. Hiding part of my salary. Locking my bedroom door. But I had never looked him in the eyes and said no like this. Victor stood. “Think carefully, Elena.” “There is nothing to think about.” “Your father’s debt belongs to your family.” “It belongs to him.” Victor’s expression hardened. “Unfortunately, men like your father rarely suffer alone.” My blood turned cold. He walked toward the door, then stopped beside me. “You have one week.” “For what?” “To accept.” “And if I don’t?” Victor looked at my father, then back at me. His smile returned. “You’ll learn exactly how expensive the word no can be.” The door closed behind him. Seconds later, the black car disappeared into the night. I stood frozen in the middle of the room. One week. My father had gambled away our money. Our home. Our future. And now, apparently, me. I looked at him. He couldn’t meet my eyes. Something inside me finally cracked. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just enough for one thought to become perfectly clear. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t sure guilt was strong enough to keep me here.