Chapter 2

For the next few weeks, Dominic drove the motorcycle every day.

The money was not much, but it helped. After paying for fuel, he could still bring home enough to buy groceries and medicine. For our family, even a small amount mattered.

Unfortunately, Marcus and his three friends soon realized how vulnerable we were.

They began calling Dominic often.

Sometimes they asked him to take them from town to the village. Sometimes they made him wait for hours and then paid only half the fare. Sometimes they promised to pay later and never did.

Dominic was too gentle to argue.

I told him more than once, “Marcus isn’t a good person. You should avoid him.”

Dominic sighed. “I know. But if they ride with me, that’s income. We need every dollar.”

I understood, but my unease grew.

Then Marcus started asking Dominic to carry packages.

At first, they were ordinary things: tools, cigarettes, bottles of alcohol, spare parts.

Later, the packages became sealed boxes.

Marcus would tell Dominic to pick them up from strange places, sometimes after dark, and deliver them to the edge of the village.

Whenever I asked what was inside, Marcus would smile coldly.

“Lola, your family owes money. Don’t ask questions you can’t afford to ask.”

The word “owes” always silenced me.

Because we did owe him money.

When Dominic was still in the hospital, we had been short forty thousand dollars. The doctor warned me that if the money was not paid quickly, Dominic might have to leave before his condition was stable.

I went everywhere to borrow money. Relatives avoided my calls. Neighbors said they had their own problems. I was desperate.

That was when Marcus came to our house with his three friends.

He said he could lend me the forty thousand dollars.

But the paper he forced me to sign listed the debt as one hundred thousand.

I knew it was wrong. I knew it was a trap. But Dominic was lying in the hospital, our children were crying at home, and I had no other way.

So I signed.

From that day on, the debt note became a chain around our family’s neck.

Marcus came to our house whenever he wanted.

Sometimes he demanded money. Sometimes he threatened to take our house. Sometimes he kicked over baskets in the yard just to frighten the children.

One evening, he threw the debt note onto our table and said, “If you don’t pay, Dominic works for me. Every ride, every delivery, every errand. No excuses.”

I trembled with anger. “You’re forcing us.”

Marcus laughed. “No. I’m collecting what you owe.”

Dominic sat beside me, his face pale.

He wanted to fight back. I could see it in his clenched fists.

But his injured leg made it difficult for him to stand for long, let alone face four violent men.

So we endured it.

We told ourselves that as long as we stayed quiet, as long as we slowly repaid the debt, Marcus would eventually leave us alone.

We were wrong.