at the soft melody playing somewhere in the room. Standing on shaky legs, I tiptoed around the shabby old furniture. I thought I must be going crazy. But then, I finally recognized where the music was coming from, and quickly knelt to the floor and peeked under my bed. May was curled into a ball, crying in that tight dark space. My eyes filled with tears at the sight of my little sister who wasn't even supposed to be home. Trisha must have forgotten to take her to preschool again.
“May, what are you doing there?” I asked softly, holding back the tears. “Come out.”
“Olivia, I'm scared.” Her voice rang with terror no child should ever be forced to endure.
Despite my own growing fear, I had to calm down and stay collected for May, but it was harder than ever.
“There is nothing to fear, sweetie,” I tried sounding reassuring, but my voice shook. I extended my hand toward her and tried again. “Come out. You're safe with me, May.”
“You promise?” she asked in a sweet, innocent voice.
I nodded, forcing a smile on my face. “I promise.”
Slowly, May came out from under the bed, holding the music box in her tiny hands. A damp patch covered the front of her leggings. I bit back a cry. She had wet herself from fear. There was nothing I could do about it at the moment—not with those evil men standing a mere few feet away. I couldn't let them see May, so I hugged her to myself and held her in a tight embrace, warning her to stay quiet. There was still a lot of shouting downstairs, and Trisha was crying again. I tried my best to comfort May, but the commotion made me upset, and I knew she picked up on that. I kept rocking her in my arms, praying those men would leave without causing any damage.
Then—from one moment to the next—the discussion ended, and the men left, shutting the door behind them with a loud bang.
The space around us filled with silence. May peered at me, her face pinched, and worry encased her gentle, innocent eyes.
“Olivia, are you okay?” Her small hand brushed against my cheek.
“I'm fine, sweetie.” I smiled despite the lump forming in my throat. “Come, let's get you changed.”
***
Even though my parents weren't fighting that night for the first time in perhaps years, I was too disturbed to fall asleep. As I got up to use the bathroom, the sound of my father's soft voice drifted from their bedroom. He was crying again. I had never witnessed him being that emotional. Not even when my mother passed away. It wasn't polite to eavesdrop, but this situation called for an exception. I paused in the hallway and leaned my back against the wall, careful not to give myself away.
“I won't go through with it, Trisha,” he choked out. “It's not right. I just can't.”
“What other choice do we have, Bill?” Trisha’s voice rang with panic. “If we don't pay them, they're going to kill us.”
“But I will never forgive myself,” he fretted. “There has to be another way.”
“Can you get the money by noon, then?” Trisha asked, and my father's silence was an answer in itself.
I sneaked back to my room, and covered little May who was fast asleep in my bed. I wasn't sure what was happening, but it was worse than ever before, and we were in huge danger. I remembered the money I had saved from Alessandro Damiani's tips. The amount I had might solve the problem or at least satiate the men for some time, but I needed that money to start a new life with May. I lay awake for hours, repeating to myself I couldn't be parted from that money. But I also couldn't let those dangerous men hurt my parents, regardless of the fact they had brought this upon themselves.
The first thing in the morning, I grabbed the envelope with the money and went straight downstairs to give it to Trisha before I changed my mind.
“What is this?” she asked as I handed her the envelope.
“It's about ten thousand dollars,” I confessed in an awkward voice, once again reminding myself why it was important to let them have the money.
Trisha's eyes widened as she opened the envelope and took out the stash of hundred dollar bills, courtesy of Alessandro Damiani. Then, her gaze turned hard and accusing. “Where did you get this?”
“There was this rich guest in the restaurant and he always