"𝑨𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑰 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐?"
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⚠️sᴛɪʟʟ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪɴɢ⚠️
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Haunted by the night when me and my mother were forced away from our daily lives in Mexico...
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"Shut your fucking mouths," the man who forcibly yanked me up into his arms yelled to his comrades who were chattering in loud Italian as we exited the building and walked towards their dozen vans parked only a few steps outside of the company, slightly blocking the passerby's view of us. "Might as well call the police while you're at it. You didn't forget the plan, did ya? We walk out as if we're employees coming out of their overtime shift."
I didn't understand anything he said, but I had a hunch that it was stupid. I'm going to refer to him as bald braid from now on.
"Seriously, Ettore, we are all wearing black suits, there's a woman and a child in your arms, and black vans parked up front. Anyone who sees this view will run away before calling the police; your plan was doomed the moment it was made," some blonde-haired man spoke from behind us. He sped up, falling in step beside us, patting bald braid's shoulder as he declared with a sneer, "None of us believed in said plan anyway; our only 'plan' was to get away as soon as we finish what we came here for."
In a split second, the man carrying me turned his body towards blondie. It was so quick I heard air rush in my ears. He stepped forward, all in the blonde man's face, and spoke steadily, "Marco...do you want to fight?"
Even though he was a few inches shorter, the man that I now know as Marco met bald braid's glare with a glare of his own and a smirk. "Sure, why not?"
It doesn't take a genius to know that these two men were exchanging some heated words. Their faces were millimeters apart, tension thick enough to slice. Just when they were about to hurl at each other, a man with a brunette perm stepped in, his hazel eyes angry as he huffed in disbelief. "Once we get back, fight until death; I don't care. But for now, let's get out of here before we fuck up something we can't afford to fuck up."
The two men stared at each other for a beat, unmoving, before hesitantly nodding and beginning to walk towards their vans. The men behind followed, patting the perm-haired man on the back and praising him for breaking up the fight, or that's what I assumed.
As we inched away from the headquarters, I lifted my head and looked quietly at the looming building behind me. The weight of the moment finally dawned on me. My heart started to pound, and I felt an aching twist in my chest as I began to imagine the faces of Aunt Sofia and Uncle Edoardo when we don't return.
It's already dark outside; the blaring sun is nowhere to be seen, having been replaced by the moon. The heat eased up a little, which means it had far surpassed our usual time to head home, and we were enjoying dinner with my aunt and her family.
A laugh threatened to escape me as I envisioned Uncle Edoardo pacing around his kitchen like a crazy man right about now, asking Aunt Sofia if she's heard anything from us, as she's telling him to calm down and that we were fine because his rambling is going to wake little Mateo up, but she's the most worried out of the two.
