Chapter 11

The afternoon wore on and Vivienne grew increasingly delirious from an insidious fatigue borne of sleep deprivation, terror-induced anxiety, bone-aching weariness, chronic pain, and persistent sexual frustration. She was past the point of exhaustion and wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and never wake up.

Daniel and Cecilia fucked off and on for hours. On the couch, on the floor, in the office on Vivienne’s desk, even standing up. Each time, Vivienne was right there, tethered at the end of her leash, but she no longer took his load in her mouth directly, for he had stopped pulling out. Instead, Vivienne ate his dripping cream pies from her daughter’s pussy.

What did it matter? They weren’t going to live long enough for Cecilia to get pregnant. As sunset approached, Daniel felt more certain than ever that the assault would come at any moment. Even after snorting several lines of Adderall, the signs of exhaustion were written all over his face. He looked hollowed out, like a human jack-o-lantern.

Cecilia too. Her face carried a perpetually haunted expression. Not just for the terrors outside their house, but for the horrible degradations she and Daniel had forced Vivienne to endure. After blowing his load in Cecilia’s pussy for the fifth time and telling her to squat over Vivienne’s open mouth, Cecilia had had enough.

“I can’t,” she said. Her defiant strength from earlier had bled out of her. She spoke with a soft, almost sad voice. “She’s had enough.”

“No, she hasn’t,” he insisted, trying to drag Cecilia off the sofa. “Come on, Cece, do it.”

She resisted him in the most passive way possible. Not by pulling away, but by simply allowing her body to go limp. The dead weight of a listless, teenage girl. He would have to lift her off the sofa to force her to do what he wanted, but he didn’t have the strength for it either, so he let her go and collapsed onto the cushion beside her. Cecilia fell against him and closed her eyes.

Daniel regarded Vivienne, lying on the floor in front of them with her knees up and her legs spread, with pitiless disgust. He put his arm around Cecilia and caressed her skin with the back of his fingers, his eyes drifting back to the television to resume his vigil.

A while later, something on-screen drew his attention. Vivienne looked to see headlights from a fourth vehicle stop just behind the line of trucks. For a split second, she dared to hope that the sheriffs had arrived, but when the headlights turned off, she saw that it was just another pickup truck. Another person got out and joined the others. She turned away and fought back tears of despair. Why had she allowed herself to hope?

“Cece,” Daniel said, nudging her a little.

“Wha-?” she murmured, opening her eyes.

“Do you know what it is your mom does for a living?”

Vivienne lifted her heavy head to look at him. Why the hell was he asking her daughter about her business? Cecilia pushed herself upright to look at him as well, seemingly perplexed by the question.

“Yeah, of course. She’s the CEO of our company.”

“Our company?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Cecilia rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. The family company. My grandpa started it way back in the 90s or something, I’m not a hundred percent sure on that, but now mom runs it. Why?”

“Do you know what they do?”

“Sure, they give out loans to needy people.”

“Do you know what kind of loans?”

Cecilia wrinkled her brow. “Yeah, you know, like, payday loans, for when people need money for bills and food and rent and stuff.”

Daniel’s baleful glare passed over Vivienne and his demeanor darkened. “Your mom’s a fucking predator, Cece. She makes millions by exploiting poor people’s desperation.”

Both Vivienne and Cecilia sat up, alarmed by his abrupt hostility. Despite being bound to him by a leash, Vivienne felt her hackles rise. It was one thing to personally suffer his abuses and humiliations, but she would not sit idly by while he bad-mouthed her late father’s company.

“That’s a lie,” she said defiantly.

Cecilia flashed her mother a disapproving glare for speaking out of turn, then put her hand on Daniel’s arm.

“No, Danny, they don’t exploit anyone. They help people who don’t have any other options.”

Daniel’s face twisted into a sneer. “Help? You think they help people? Is that what she tells you?”

Cecilia pulled her hand away. “B-but, it’s true.”

“Bullshit!” he snapped, yanking Vivienne’s leash so violently that it jerked her neck and caused her to topple onto the floor. “You’re mom’s a fucking parasite! Get over here, you worthless cunt!” He spooled the leash around his hand, drawing Vivienne to the couch until just a few inches of slack remained. “Let me tell you what a piece of shit your mom is.”

“Danny-” Cecilia said, fearful over his sudden, inexplicable rage.

“Just shut the fuck up and listen to me for once! I want you to imagine that you’re a hard working mom with two kids and a husband who just got laid off. You’re busting your ass at two different part-time jobs to keep a roof over your family’s head, bagging groceries in the morning and cleaning motel rooms in the afternoon, but no matter how many extra hours you beg your bosses for, there’s never enough money to cover everything. Bills start falling behind, first thirty days late, then sixty. Your power’s about to be shut off and the mortgage company’s threatening to foreclose.

“Then one day your car breaks down. It’s only a few hundred bucks to get it fixed, but that’s a few hundred bucks you don’t have, and without your car, you can’t get to work. You ask your bosses for an advance, but they both tell you no. You’d ask your family, but they live out of state and you need to get your car to the mechanic today. Desperate and with no other options, you walk into CrediTrust and borrow the three hundred you need to get it fixed. You don’t tell your husband because you don’t want him to worry and, besides, you’re going to pay it right back with your next paycheck.

“Three hundred bucks. It’s nothing, right? Not even pocket change for you people. And the terms seem simple enough. Just repay the loan in a couple weeks when you get paid. But they never mention the interest rate. It’s buried in the fine print under a bunch of legal bullshit, so you have no idea that the three hundred dollar loan you just took out has an interest rate of thirty-five percent per month. That’s over four hundred percent per year!”

Cecilia’s mouth fell open and she looked at her mom, whose head was jammed against the sofa because Daniel was pulling so hard on her leash.

“When payday comes,” he continued, talking through his teeth, “there’s not enough money to repay the loan in full. You still have to buy groceries, after all, and the bills are still piling up, and collectors are still calling, only now you’re also getting harassing phone calls from CrediTrust at all hours of the day and night.

“Then one of their quote-unquote customer care people offers you a simple solution. For a fee, you can roll over the loan and buy yourself some time. Need even more time? No problem. Just roll it over again. Each rollover adds new fees, of course, and now it’s not just the original loan with that insane fucking interest rate, but a bunch of other fees as well. And, oh! While we’re at it, let’s go ahead and tack on a bunch of late payment fees too.

“If you miss one more mortgage payment, you’re going to lose your house, but you can’t set any money aside for that because in order to qualify for the rollover, you had to agree to let CrediTrust automatically withdraw the payments from your bank account, which they empty the second any money appears there. What that means is that, on top of everything else, you’re also getting hit with multiple overdraft fees by your bank every week, making your account permanently negative. Your paychecks can’t cover both the mortgage and the loan interest anymore, just one or the other, but you don’t get to decide which.”

Cecilia shook her head, stunned beyond belief, her eyes moving between Daniel and Vivienne as his face reddened and his voice grew louder.

“The collection calls are fucking relentless. Not just every day, but every fucking hour, and they’re mean sons of bitches too. They cuss you out. They call you a deadbeat and a thief. They threaten to take you to court. You feel hunted and ashamed. Your children see that mommy’s stressed out all the time and hardly sleeping, but you can’t explain this shit to them because they’re just little kids.

“When your husband finds out, he’s fucking pissed. He calls you a stupid fucking bitch for taking out that loan, even though it was only three hundred dollars and you’re the one bringing in all the income. The constant financial strain and harassment leads to screaming matches every night that leave you drained and your kids in tears. Finally, it’s too much for your husband to deal with and he takes off. Then he files for divorce, hoping to worm his way out of your huge debt. You have to send your kids out of state to go live with their grandma because you can’t take care of them by yourself anymore.”

Cecilia covered her mouth. “No,” she cried.

Tears brimmed in her eyes, and there were tears in Daniel’s eyes too. He stood to pace around the room, dragging Vivienne across the floor by her neck.

“Oh, yes. And it gets worse too. Way fucking worse. See, now you’re all alone. You spiral into depression. It’s fucking hopeless. Even if you worked twenty-four hours a day, you could never pay back what you owe because of that interest. The mortgage company starts foreclosure proceedings. The power company shuts off your electricity during the hottest part of summer. You can’t cope with this shit anymore. You start taking your paychecks straight to the check cashing place and drinking it away because, fuck it! Why not? Your credit’s ruined and you’ve lost everything anyway. Your kids, your husband, your house, and now your jobs too because you had to take so many days off to deal with all this shit and showed up to work still drunk from the night before.

“Do you think CrediTrust cares that you’re unemployed and homeless and living in your car? Fuck no! Without any income, the rollovers and interest and fees balloon like crazy. You borrowed three hundred dollars to fix your car, but now, just one year later, because of all the interest and fees and penalties compounding at thirty-five percent per month, you owe them twenty-one thousand fucking dollars! CrediTrust leaves you dozens of voice messages, all telling you the same thing: we’re taking you to court, bitch. What little you still own will soon belong to us. It’s too much for you to handle. You’re pushed over the edge into the abyss of despair. The only thing left for you now is bankruptcy. The life you once had is over!”