The Desire for a Simple Life

TWELVE

TWELVE

Natalia

- 2:09 pm -

My eyes open and my head is pounding. Where am I? I remember Grant then nothing. He betrayed me. Grant knocked out my father and Omar. I thought him and I were close, and trusted each other. I guess not.

"Natalia! Natalia! You're awake!" My father says holding my hand tight.

I look down and see that my bad shoulder is in a sling, and popped back into place. Maybe that means Grant cares enough to do that at least.

"Natalia? Are you okay!? Can you hear me?" He says. I look around to see we are in a dingy cell that is cement on the walls, floors and ceilings. There is a single door, and a single window. It's at the top of the wall so we must be in the basement of something.

"I'm fine-" I push him off and try to sit up. My head hurts, and I feel a bit congested, probably because of the air down here, how it's really dry, yet moist and humid. I most likely have a sinus infection from the change of climate from my father's place to here.

Omar is sitting on a bed and is looking forward to nothing in particular, just at the wall in a blank stare.

A couple minutes later the door opens and a powerful man with a cocky smile walks in, Grant standing behind him. Grant doesn't look at me, his eyes look forward. I want to beat the crap out of him, but I don't dare move.

"I see Ms. Natalia is awake! How are ya?" The man asks. "I'm Atticus. Nice to finally meet you." He puts his hand out to me to shake but I don't move. "Little tired, okay! Anyway! Thatcher, have you come up with my money?" Atticus asks.

"No! I've been stuck here with no possible way to get you your money!" My father snaps, getting close to Atticus. Grant straightens up even more, ready to keep my father back.

"That's not how this was supposed to go. It was supposed to be quick and easy. Do you need some motivation?" Atticus points to me.

"Don't lay a finger on her." My father spits.

"Oh no, I wouldn't touch her. But he would." Atticus points his thumb back to Grant.

"I trusted you with my daughter's life! You betrayed me- her!" My father says, stepping in front of me.

"He was doing what I told him to do. And it's all your fault." Atticus explains. What is he talking about? What money does my father owe?

"Nothing here is my fault." My father states.

"Can I go home? I offer no help in this situation." Omar speaks up.

"Go home? Oh sure, bye!" Atticus laughs.

"Really?" Omar sits up and gets all hopeful.

"Of course not." Atticus just laughs.

Omar has a family at home, a son named James, and a daughter named Cecila. Omar's wife Charlotte is the nicest woman you'd ever meet. When I didn't feel like being home, Omar would take me to dinner with his family. I would always have the best time. I want him to leave if anyone, to get back to them. And maybe, just maybe he can get us out of this. But I have a feeling that we aren't going anywhere for awhile.

"You got my money yet?" Atticus asks.

"I've been here, next to you this entire time! Of course I don't!" My father shouts.

"Shame. I'll be back tomorrow. Have a great rest of your day!" Then they both leave, shutting the door.

"I hate that guy! I owe him nothing! If anything he owes me money!" My father begins to pace back and forth, pulling at his hair. "This is all your fault! If you didn't ever go to college and need protection we wouldn't have to get Grant!" My father points a finger in my face.

"You are being ridiculous! I don't even know what is going on here!" I shout back.

"I am not being ridiculous! Natalia you are a waste! You got me into trouble!" My father screams.

"Are you kidding me?! You blame anything and everything you can on me!" I counter.

"Watch it!" He raises his hand to hit me and he strikes my cheek with his backhand.

"I can't believe you!" I shout, standing strong, no tear in sight.

My father raises his hand again, but Omar interjects. "Thatcher, we are all a little high strong at the moment. Let's try to relax so we can find a way out of this situation."

My father backs up and walks to his bed in frustration. I pace back and forth in the cramped room. Every once in a while, putting my ear up to the door. I never hear anything, but I just have a feeling Grant is on the other side.

I'm so angry at my father, and at Grant. I am always angry at my father, and I'm used to his secrets and stupidity. But Grant- really? I could get all angry over this, but I won't let it get to me. I walk back to my bed and wrap the thin blanket around my shoulders, and close my eyes trying to clear my mind.

But instead I just drift off.