Chapter 2 Don't take my daughter

It's him. I recognize him.

I knew it was him. Even after six long years, I would recognize that face anywhere. It was etched into my memory, a haunting image I could never shake.

Six years ago, I didn't even know his name. I was only trying to save his life, desperate to keep him from dying. I didn't care who he was back then-I just saw a dying man.

My mother had gone to deliver some pastries, and my father was off gambling again. I saw it as my one chance to experience freedom, even if just for a moment. Grabbing the spare key I'd stolen, I slipped out of the house, careful not to be seen.

My entire life, I had never truly seen the world beyond the walls of our home. My window was my only view, peeking through thick curtains, watching the neighbors live their lives. I knew their faces, their routines, even their secrets, but they didn't know I existed.

Loneliness was a constant companion. No siblings, no friends. Seventeen years old and my only solace was the flickering screen of a television. But that day, curiosity got the better of me, and I snuck out.

I experienced so many things in that brief taste of freedom, but none were as unforgettable as the boy I found by the sea. He was lying motionless on the wet sand, his body battered, his clothes soaked in blood. It was almost dusk, and I should have been heading home before my mother returned. But how could I leave him there?

I forced myself to approach, the cold, damp sand clinging to my feet. "Hey," I called out, barely louder than a whisper, fear gripping my chest. Was he dead?

A faint rise and fall of his chest answered my question. He was alive-barely.

I knelt beside him, my hands trembling as I touched his bruised cheek. "Can you hear me? Please wake up!" Nothing. His eyelids remained shut, his face pale. I couldn't just leave him. Panic surged within me.

I leaned closer, cradling his head in my lap. "Wake up! Please, wake up!" I shouted, louder this time, slapping his cheek lightly. His eyelids fluttered, those deep brown eyes slowly opening, and in that moment, everything around me faded away.

I thought he might remember me, but the look in his eyes was blank, distant. Did he even see me at all? Did he know I was the one who saved him all those years ago?

But now... now, everything was different. His voice cut through the haze of my memories, sharp and commanding. "Who are you?" His grip on my hair tightened, and I winced, trapped in his iron grasp.

"Let me go!" I cried, twisting, trying to free myself.

"Victoria!" My mother's voice, thick with fear, pierced the chaos. "Please, let her go!"

My father, beaten and barely standing, staggered forward, begging for my life. "Please, don't hurt my daughter."

"Is your name Victoria?" His tone was mocking. He released my wrist, but his fingers tangled in my hair remained. "Were you going to hit me with that?" He gestured toward the black shoe on the floor.

My mother fell to her knees, her voice trembling. "She doesn't understand. Please, forgive her. She knows nothing. Don't drag her into this I beg of you."

"You think I'll just stand here and let you kill my father?" I spat, ignoring the terror twisting in my gut.

A chuckle escaped his lips, dark and amused. "I'm not a monster. Your father owes me, and I've been more than patient. But he thinks I'm a fool."

"Killing him won't get you your money back," I shot back. "You probably are too dumb to think about that."

"Stop it Victoria. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

He seemed surprised, a smirk playing at his lips. "You're a clever one, aren't you?" His grip tightened just enough to make me wince, and I hated that my pain seemed to amuse him.

"Please," my father begged, "I just need more time. And this time, I swear, I'll pay back. I'll pay it all back. Let the poor girl go please."

He released my hair, but I wasn't fast enough to escape. His arm coiled around my waist, pulling me into him. "Not so fast, small ."

"Don't call me that!" I snapped, struggling. His hold on me was unyielding, his touch both a prison and a taunt.

"Feisty," he murmured, amused. "I like that."

"Leave my daughter alone!" my mother screamed, tears streaming down her face as she fell to her knees. "She's all I have! She's the only thing I hold dear. Please let her go."

His gaze flicked to her, cold and calculating. "So there is something of value in this miserable home." He gestured to my father. "You said you'd give me anything to save your life. Well, today's your lucky day. I'm feeling generous. I won't take your life."

The room seemed to freeze.

"But I will take this," he added, his arm tightening around me. "Until you pay me what you owe."

My mother's scream shattered the silence. "No! Not my daughter! Please, she's innocent!"

She lunged toward me, but the barrel of his gun shifted, aiming directly at her chest. "One more step, and she dies first."

"Mum, stop!" I screamed, the terror clawing at my throat. "Don't move!"