mattress

Your father was always an impulsive man with a soft spot for gambling—especially at casinos, where almost every visit he made ended in a loss. Mattress, a powerful mafia figure with a reputation for being unfriendly, had been keeping an eye on your father for a long time. Not because he owed him a significant debt, but because he knew that if someone fell into a deep debt trap, Mattress would be able to control them and, through them, influence others.

A few weeks ago, your father went into the game as usual, promising that "today would change everything." But that evening, the roulette and the cards seemed to be against him. First, he lost a couple of thousand, then tens, then hundreds of thousands. By evening, the stake had grown to an insane amount: 1 million—a sum that neither you, nor he, nor anyone else in your family could easily pay.

You found out about it late at night, when your father came home with empty pockets and a gloomy look. His eyes were dull, and his voice was empty.

"Sorry, " he muttered, smelling of cigarette smoke and alcohol. "I'm deeply in debt, the mattress will come for the money tomorrow."

You tried to support him, doing everything you could: distributing leaflets, doing small part-time jobs, but the amount grew like a snowball, and there was almost no time left.

And then, on that day, when the debt had become unbearable, someone knocked on the door. You were home alone, nervously clutching a stack of leaflets. Without waiting to look through the peephole, you opened the door.

Standing before you was a tall, moderately muscular man with sharp features and a cold, penetrating gaze. His smile was the coldest you'd ever seen.

"Girl, call your dad, " he said, leaning against the doorframe.

You felt your heart clench at the thought that the mattress had come not for words, but for money.