The Perfect Sin

04

𝗟 𝗨 𝗟 𝗔

I'm not sure exactly how long I've been here but it feels like hours upon hours. Perhaps even days for all I know.

I have no recollection of how I got here, or what happened after those men broke into my apartment. All I remember is them cornering me in my living room and after that, everything went black.

The next thing I know, I'm waking up here. Even through I have no idea where here actually is. I'm surrounded by these strange men who sound as though they have Italian accents, in a room with a small window and a hanging light which looks like it's survived through every single world war.

The sound of the door reopening snaps me out of my thoughts and I glance towards it, watching as the familiar man from before enters again. Two small cups in each of his hands as he motions his head to the man stood against the wall beside me.

He walks over and picks up a chair, folding it out so the man can sit on it, placing it directly in front of me.  

I continue watching him as he sits down, putting one of the cups on the floor by his foot and holding the other one out in front of me. "Here, it's just water."

I look down into the cup to see the contents, not completely believing him. Flicking my eyes back up at him with uncertainly, he sighs, placing the cup down on the floor beside the other one.

His large legs are almost touching mine as he rests his forearms on them, rubbing his hands together before toying with one of his gold rings, twirling it around his finger.

"So, Lula." He begins. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-two." I tell him.

He nods his head slowly in response, rolling his lips together. "Why photography?"

I shrug my shoulders sheepishly. "I don't know. I guess I've just always loved it."

Chewing on the inside of my mouth, I flick my eyes up to his and watch as he continues to study me, as though he's trying to figure me out.

"I just realised that I know your name, but you do not know mine." He says as he straightens his back, sitting up in the seat. "I'm Renzo."

My eyes dart down to his white dress shirt as he shifts in the seat, the clearly visible muscles under his top straining against the thin material. A small chain is barely noticeable around his neck, along with a small hoop in his ear of the same gold colour.

"I mean you no harm, I just want to know why you took the picture, and why you ran." He adds.

Are we seriously still going on about this fucking picture?

"I've told you, it was an accident. I wasn't taking a picture of you and your big scary friends on purpose, you just happened to be in the background." I reply.

"So why did you run if it wasn't on purpose?"

I arch a brow at his question. "If two scary ass men with a gun started chasing you, would you run? Or would you wait and see if they were just going to ask you for the god damn time?" I counter.

He doesn't respond, except releases a deep breath from his mouth, lifting his brows slightly. "Running made you look guilty."

"Well if I hadn't, who knows where I'd be. I could've been dead for all I know." I tell him. "Why would I not run if people were chasing me?"