02. "In the Hands of Strangers"

Emma.

The alarm clock rang with a shrill sound, and I woke up to rays of sunlight on my face, feeling as if a bulldozer had run over me when I chased after that darn bus, which ended up leaving without me. I was lost about which direction to follow now that I was unemployed, so I got up and went to my father's room to check if he was okay and had already gone to work. I knocked repeatedly on the door, but there was no response. I slowly opened the door and, to my surprise, he wasn't there. Where could he be?

It was only six in the morning, and at this time, my father would usually be up and getting ready for work. I called him three times and got no answer. Worry began to settle in my chest, as my father had struggled with alcohol in the past. While he seemed to have stopped recently, I was still deeply concerned.

No sign of him picking up. "Damn it," I muttered.

Since my father wasn't home, and I couldn't just wander around looking for him, I decided to have my breakfast. I made toast with eggs and, looking at the pantry, I realized that supplies were running low. I needed to find another job urgently to ensure we'd have food.

I grabbed my plate and walked down the hallway towards the living room. My eyes weren't fully open yet, and I felt somewhat deflated. As I reached the living room, I heard unfamiliar voices. The dark curtains obscured my full view, but I could see two men sitting in my living room, looking at me with neutral expressions. Instantly, my body went cold, and all I could think of was escaping. However, running away probably wouldn't get me far, as looking back, I saw a man tall enough to block the exit.

The sensation that something terrible was happening engulfed me. The dark-haired man in the room spoke calmly, his voice carrying an Italian accent: "Sit down, ragazza."

"Who are you? And why are you in my house?" I asked, trying to keep my composure, though it was a difficult task.

"We're following orders. We've come to find your father. Where is he?"

"I don't know," I was honest.

"Don't lie to me, Emma. You wouldn't want to see your pretty face hurt." He spoke, making air quotes with his fingers when he mentioned "pretty."

How did he know my name? And why were they looking for my father? I was utterly lost, and this felt like a nightmare, the worst kind of nightmare.

The man kept staring at me, and his "henchman" in the other armchair was also watching me intently. I swallowed hard as I saw the gun on the man's waist, purposely left visible.

"Speak, girl!" He lost his patience and brought the gun closer to my face, but was interrupted by the other man.

"Don said no harm to the girl, he wants her in perfect condition," he took the gun from the man's hands.

"I've already told you I don't know where my father is. What do you want with him? He's an honest man, he hasn't done anything!"

They laughed, as if mocking what I had said, as if it were all a joke. Tears threatened to escape, but I held them back. I couldn't show weakness in front of these men; it would only make things worse.

"Your 'daddy' - he made air quotes again - 'honest' owes a fortune to my boss, both in gambling and in alcohol. He's an addict, and the deadline to pay is over. So, we'll wait for him to come home, no matter what time."

No, this couldn't be true. My father wouldn't do that. It meant he was gambling and spending what little we had on games and drinks. And who were these men, who seemed extremely dangerous? They wore black suits and radios on their belts, and outside the window, I could see an expensive car parked.

"You don't need to do this. I'll find a way to pay," I pleaded desperately.

"Ragazza, you've got nothing. At least you're very pretty, and so it is."

The anguish grew in my chest as time passed. The men lit cigarettes, showing impatience. Until I heard the door open. It was my father. I became apprehensive, unsure of what they would do to him. He was the only person I had in the world, flaws and all.

My father entered the room and was met with the scene: the man sitting beside me, a gun aimed at me. He tried to approach but was stopped by the henchman.

"Hold on." He put his hand out, halting my father's movements. "I warned you, Ramon, that if you didn't pay your debt, there would be no forgiveness. The boss doesn't give second chances, and you know that."

"It doesn't have to come to this. I'll pay," my father begged, asking for my release.

"Ramon, you're making Don look like a fool, and he doesn't tolerate being made a fool of. We'll strike a favorable deal. My boss has been observing your life, and it's impossible not to notice your daughter's beauty." He said, and I widened my eyes. "He'll keep your daughter until you pay the hundred thousand you owe."

"No, Dad, you can't allow this. We'll find a solution," I screamed, desperate.

"Pablo, this isn't necessary. Leave my daughter out of this; she has nothing to do with it. I've already said I'll pay."

"Decision made, Ramon." He pulled me off the couch by my arm. Tears streamed down my face, and I looked at my father, desperate.

He did nothing, didn't come after me, couldn't meet my eyes.

My world crumbled at that moment. It was as if nothing else made sense. I was being sold to pay a debt I had nothing to do with. It was agonizing. I just wanted to disappear at that moment.

"Dad..." I whispered, a plea for help.

"I will find you, wherever you are, Emma. I will find you. Forgive me, forgive me, daughter."

I looked at him with sadness and desperation, unable to fully comprehend what was happening. The man restrained my hands and led me out of the house through the back. My life was fading away in that moment, in the blink of an eye.

He pushed me into the back of the car and quickly blindfolded me, preventing me from seeing where we were headed. The vehicle started moving, and my heart ached with anxiety. Deep down, I knew something terrible was about to happen. Every bump in the road heightened my anguish as I remained silent, afraid of what was to come.