Indebted: A Debt-p*****t Romance (English Version)

“No, Dion! Don’t! Don’t leave me here!” It has been five years since I last pleaded with him, urging the opposite—to let me go because I didn't want to flee. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving everything behind, abandoning it all. I wanted to protect everyone, to save our lives without allowing others to perish in vain. Such cruelty went against the very nature of family bonds, especially for the Andradas. But I was only sixteen, confused and consumed by bone-chilling fear. I was too young to assume strength and bravery, yet hopelessness engulfed me. We were all utterly helpless. Everything changed instantly, in the blink of an eye and the fall of a tear. Following that tragic event, not only did we become orphaned, but it seemed we also took on separate paths. Although we remained together, we couldn't ignore the growing divide within our family. We became aware of it with each passing moment after that fateful tragedy. I tried making a living for us while he welcomed his downfall. We fought, oh god, we fought so many times, but I loved him so much like a brother that giving up on him would be the last thing I'd do. I never begged him for anything, no matter how much I wished for him to change and return to his old self. That young Dion that all the Andradas know. But now, I am desperately begging him. I sit on the cold, rough floor and look up at him, sobbing because I do not want to accept this. I do not care about our differences and his indifference to me. We only have each other now. He is all that is left of me. He becomes my everything. I understand his hatred for me, but how could it lead him to do this to me?! I can barely recognize the guy looking down at me with mockery. He raised an eyebrow with amusement. He is far different from the boy I used to know. We never got along well before, but somehow, the bond as a family used to be there. The guy mercilessly glaring at me now is a stranger. There’s nothing in his eyes but complete indifference. “I can’t do anything now. You’re paid off.” He shrugs his shoulders as if it is no big deal. But he can do something! I know! He takes me here. He should know! My thoughts trail off as his words dawn on me. I shudder. Tears uncontrollably rolled down my cheeks. Too exhausted to wipe them off. He informed me about this before forcefully dragging me out of the house. It sounded surreal that I didn't believe it was a warning—a threat. None of this has happened before; how am I supposed this is real? I hold on with little hope he might still care for me and will not resort to stupid things. Until this moment, my mind refuses to register it. It doesn’t make sense. “Please, Dion!” I shake my head, wanting to accept none of this. “Let’s go home.” I hope it is that easy to convince him to change his mind. With shaking hands and trembling knees, I try reaching for him. I hold onto his thighs, but he pulls my hands off and pushes me away. “I will go home alone, Tara. You will stay here with them because you are completely paid off.” He takes little steps towards me only to mockingly tap the envelope he is holding on my head, which contains the money that ‘pays me off.’ I stare at him, hoping to glimpse the real Dion I know, but my tears blur my vision while the money blinds him. There's no regret in his eyes. Just complete contentment as though, in his mind, he's counting the things he can do with that money. How cruel. He exchanges me for it, for god’s sake! I’m his cousin! Never was there a time in our childhood when we didn’t get to see each other's nerves. We casually talked at times, but we hardly had jokes. I never thought he would come up with this idea—sell me off—and with people I don’t know. People with whom we both have no idea what we can do. “This drama is beginning to make me sick, kids," the old man who takes his time watching us finally say. We are surrounded by armed men who are the old man's guards inside an abandoned warehouse. They hold their guns without fear of getting anyone hurt or, worse, killed. Those man and his tailored suit, there is no doubt how powerful the man is. The smug look on his face never goes unnoticed. It alone speaks of danger. And his voice is anything but gentle. He aims to ensure everything about him will mean nothing but insolence and cruelty. He has dark eyes, thick brows, and a mustache emphasizing his dark look. It is only when one looks closely that you'll notice his age. Despite the slight greyish color of his hair, he does well in keeping his actual age. His posture is stiff and straight, chest out. Inside this building, one can tell who is the main culprit. “I’m sorry, Mr. Montevalles. This girl can get a little stubborn. I’ll leave it to you to give her some lecture,” my dear cousin heartlessly says to the man. “Don't worry, kid,” replies Mr. Montevalles, tapping Dion's shoulder. “I’ll make her the most obedient girl you have ever known. You can leave now. One of my guards will guide you out.” Dion smiles with satisfaction. He turns to me with a smirking plaster on his face and the look of victory resurfacing. “Right… Tara, behave, okay?” “Dion, no!” I shout after he turns his back on me. Behind him, one of the men follows him. Panic courses through me. “Dion, don’t leave me here! Don’t do this!” If he didn’t accidentally break my bones after telling me about his plan and before he dragged me here, I could have easily stood and run to him. I try to stand from the dusted floor and wince in pain. I barely make two steps forward when I fall back to the floor on my knee. "Dion!" A throaty laugh resonates. I stare at my worn-out jeans, and absent-mindedly dust off the dirt with my palm. When I meet the old man's gaze, he still isn't done with his laughter. I don’t know what there is with that sound. It makes me shudder. The hair on my neck keeps on rising. Why would my cousin sell me to him out of all the people? And why does it have to be me? This man has yet to do anything, but I am already afraid. Why, Dion? Why? “You’re horrible!” I scream as my fear becomes too much I can barely breathe. His image is blurry because of tears clouding my eyes. “Why are you doing this? Have I done you wrong?” It heightens his laughter. I see nothing amusing or entertaining in this situation. Or, perhaps, it’s only understandable that he makes fun of me for my misfortune. Who would have thought this day would come to me? Who would have thought I had this kind of fate written on the lines of my palm? Dion sells me off like some kind of thing worth bargaining over money. Does the money he took enough of a cost for me, his very own cousin? “Well,” Mr. Montevalles clears his throat as he tries miserably to stop his laughter. “I am doing this because your dear cousin has no other choice. He walked to me one day. He enjoyed himself around my casino and ended up being indebted with a very… a very huge amount of money. He is smart enough to agree to use you as a debt p*****t. The price is no joke, you see, but I give him a bonus―a small amount to help him take his ass away from mine. That stubborn fag." The last words are muttered to himself. I gulp. I know Dion is a certified gambler. I worked hard night and day for the two of us, but it was not enough. Nothing would be enough. Not only did he have no job and couldn’t help with anything, but he made it a habit of gambling. What’s worse, he was not using his own money but mine. I do not blame him if he hates me to the bone. I do not blame him if he’s making it his life’s goal to throw all the world's hatred at me. I am the one to be blamed for. Had it not been for me and my stupidity, we would have our whole family with us. A beautiful life ahead of us. We wouldn’t have to live all day wondering what would happen next. We wouldn’t have to struggle in poverty to live. We wouldn’t have to suffer at all. With that thought, I cannot help but cry in anguish. “Get her in the car,” orders Mr. Montevalles before turning his back to us and leaving the building. I am too weak when the two guys work together to help me on my feet. I cannot make an effort to struggle. I keep chanting the mantra to myself that I deserve this. Maybe now, Dion will stop putting me to blame. Maybe he will just never forgive me for everything. In this way, we no longer have to stay together under a tiny roof, so I hope he tries to have a good life for himself. I watch as Mr. Montevalles hops inside one of the cars parked outside the building. It doesn't take long for it to start driving to the empty road, with two cars tailing them. Four goons are left behind to 'take care' of me. There's no way to tell if these guys are his trusted men or the ones who are with him right now. In my grandfather’s case, all his men were professionals and skilled, but he would keep his trusted men to guard my grandmother and the rest of the family. I sighed. I should have trusted Grandpa’s men back then. I just really hope my life will be exemplary. Meeting Mr. Montevalles, I know it will be more difficult. Still, I hope for all the good things for Dion and me. My mind is drained. I couldn’t guess what might happen after this. I am too exhausted even to entertain all the possibilities. If all the ground will be so kind as to open up and swallow me whole, I will instead have that. Or anything. He can take my life back, either, so I do not have to experience any form of cruelty at the hands of that old horrible man. “Get in!” one of the men harshly pushes me to the car. I immediately hold onto it for balance after feeling how jelly my legs have become. Still, I instantly fall to the ground with a thud after another man pushes me away so that he can open the backseat’s door. One of them laughs, and the other three only watch me with a vacancy on their faces. I mean to throw dagger eyes at the one laughing, but I probably look helpless to be a threat to him. My cheeks are burning; I can taste the blood drawn after Dion backhanded me in the apartment because I struggled so much. It was the first time he ever laid a hand on me. I could still remember the shock on his face when he did it. He didn’t mean to hurt me, but whatever pushed him to do this quickly clouded his thoughts; his face went expressionless. I thought he was too drunk, but I barely smelt the alcohol. We fought a little longer until he had to make a sprain on my leg just to bring me here. “Come one, Iko! Bring her here!” the guy who situated himself behind the wheels shouts. The one laughing at my misfortune is in the passenger seat and also the one who pushes me inside the backseat. The guy, Iko, stares at me with furrowed brows. He lightly holds my arm, but his hold tightens because I am nearly limping. Holding the door on the backseat, he forces me to get inside, but I plant my feet on the ground. With a grim face, he crouches inside to tell the man in the backseat to move further. I don’t plan to fight back or act to be strong. Years ago, I thought I was strong enough to protect myself. I always wanted to show it to everyone, but when I had to show them finally, it was the first and last time. I do not want to repeat it today only to end up in a more unfortunate situation. Accepting the fate Dion decided for me seems easier. But the way my heart hammers after seeing the gun in the back pocket of Iko scares me—and wakes my dying courage, too. Flashes of memories appear at the back of my head. Years later and I see another gun before me—my body trembles. I sweat bullets, and my breathing staggers. I look up only to see the challenging look on the man inside. He taps the space next to him. Iko is still holding my arm, waiting for me to go inside. None of them know what my mind has been urging me to do. “Fvcking hurry!” the man in the passenger seat shouts again. I deliberately shake my head. But I see myself grasping Iko’s gun before I know what is happening. I am quick enough to push him and pull on the trigger, making a perfect shot right on his thigh. After years, I learn that my fingers are still familiar with guns. I know little about them, but still, I know the basics. I’ve been trained... by myself. My initial reaction is to be shocked, and it’s pretty understandable. I turn around for a run when Iko falls on the ground, his hand close to his bleeding thigh. Two forced steps back, and I fall, too. My knees scream the pain. I have to punch it several times with frustration, hoping it will ultimately be numb until I don’t have to feel a damn thing. “What the hell, Iko?” The guy in the backseat steps out of the car. I don't let him come near me. The bullet goes right to his thigh, too. I did the same thing to the two men who tried coming to me. “Saab, no!” Iko holds his palm out to the guy from the passenger seat, who, like everyone else, is wincing with throbbing pain on the ground. “Damn, that woman!” Saab, the most heartless among everyone, angrily points his gun at me. With the anger embedded on his face, I have no doubt he can shoot right through my head. “You know Mr. Montevalles wants her alive,” Iko tells him through gritted teeth. Those words are fuel to my system. They will not hurt me or at least kill me. I help myself up. A series of profanities resonates in my head caused by the excruciating pain. But a broken leg is nothing compared to the bullet shots of the four. “And we'll be dead if she escapes!” the driver mutters under his breath. “Fvck!” The gun barely touches my shoulder as Saab frustratedly throws his gun at me. “Then don’t shoot but don’t let her run either! She’ll be dead once I get to her.” That is not a good threat if they wish me to stay. So I ran. Their screams of panic and anger echo around that cold, still, isolated corner of the town. I am wondering if I am taking the right path. I only have one working foot as I jumped alternately with the other. I guess I'm good as long as I’m keeping a safe distance from those men. Without looking back, I ran down towards the empty alley. “Help! Help m-me,” I scream with a hoarse voice. With the density of silence around, I know there’s no one to help me, but I refuse to believe I’m all alone with those men in this place. There must be someone to help me. Anyone. Why, Dion? I cry and mentally cuss at my cousin. Realization streams like waterfalls. I don’t want my life to end this way. If Dion wants me to suffer, then be it. But not through this, please. If it’s the money, I can help him. With fueled determination coursing through me, I wipe tears with my palm. Another tears pour. I tasted the dust from my palm. But I don't care. I need to fight and run until I cannot anymore. I only glance back after seeing the end of the alley before me. I don't see anyone behind me, but I can hear their faint scream from a distance, cursing and calling me. It’s probably because of their gunshot. I saw how Dad used his gun before. It happened only once because he said it was too dangerous for me. But it triggered the curiosity of a teenager. So I sneaked in and secretly watched him in the shooting range room of Grandpa’s mansion. I've shot once. It was a nightmare. I tried hard to bring it to the farthest corner of my mind, but everything returned in a fast series of flashbacks. Something tugs at my heart as familiar faces and images show themselves to me. Another scream from behind me, and the memories were gone, lurking somewhere in my mind, waiting for another time to give me misery. After minutes or hours of running, the sky no longer gives more light. My eyesight is clouded with tears, and the alley is dark. Finally, I reached the road. I squint my eyes at the blinding lights that suddenly emerge from nowhere. It is from the approaching car. I waste no time and run towards it. I spread my arms apart and closed my eyes as I stood in the middle. I hear no screeching tires indicating the driver's startle reaction at my sudden appearance. It halts smoothly in front of me. The sound of the door shutting orders me to open my eyes. I gasp for air. The driver stalks towards me with leisurely steps. “H-Help me,” my knees tremble. I caught his eyes widening a fraction. Especially when he recognizes the gun in my hand while I desperately wipe the tears off my face. I am not aware I still have it. I shake my head in defense and throw the gun away. “I...I’m not… I didn’t… Believe me; I’m not a bad person… Some people want to… to hurt me!” I need help! I break the distance between us and grasp for his arms. His arm snakes around me before I drop to the ground after losing my balance. I am panting for air, but our eyes meet, and my heart stills. The desperate intake of air slows down. There is something foreign and unfamiliar I cannot quite name because of the unfamiliarity. But my system quakes. It’s probably because of exhaustion that I cannot help but push myself more to the stranger for support. “Help me, please. P-Please!” I nearly choke because of my dry throat. My hands stain his white polo shirt. Because of panic, I move my hands from his shoulders but immediately curse when it causes more damage. I quickly push myself off him, but my knees are too weak I have to hold onto him again. Why am I even worried about his white shirt? I just want him to help me before those guys find us here! “Miss,” His voice is a slap to my shaking system. Deep and sharp. I blink with parted lips. Those pitch-black eyes, his brows, nose, lips, and frame. My brows furrow. I am confident it is the first time I see him, but why does… Why does he seem familiar? “Please…,” I clear my throat as a lump suddenly forms, “help me get out of here.” We both glance over my shoulder after hearing a noise not far from where we are. My tears come like a flood. I tighten my hold on the guy, almost giving him all my weight, to force him to move. “They’re coming. Please, let's go!” His head hardly moves for a nod. “Let’s go.”