Broken By Mafia

Chapter 5

Z A R A

Frank radios a caretaker to clean up my mess. I apologize profoundly to the caretaker, who assures me that he has seen the worst and he's glad that it was just vomiting and not a dead body, which is apparently rare [not the dead bodies]. Frank hurries me back to the room I was in.

"Grab your things," he orders. "My things? What things?" I ask, confused. My things were taken away when they hit me on the head.

He points at my purse that's sitting in the corner of the room. It definitely wasn't there before. I quickly grab my bag to see if my phone is still inside and obviously it's not. Why would it be?

"Where are we going?" I'm more afraid than curious.

"You're going to be given a room, as per the request of the boss," he says.

"A room where?"

"At his home," he answers. I raise a brow, "Where are we now?" "You ask too many questions for someone who is not in the position to be asking questions," Frank rolls his eyes. "And? Why can't I ask questions?" I die either way, no? He lets out a defeated groan, "This is his main office building."

"He only has three floors?" That doesn't sound right. "No, the elevator we used is a separate elevator from the main one. This elevator only allows access to three floors," he explains. Oh... that's why Frank scans an I.D before he clicks any buttons on it. Makes sense.

As he escorts me to a blacked-out SUV through a door, that's obviously not the main entrance. This is when I notice the office building, and to my surprise, it was so tall that I almost broke my neck trying to look up too fast. I know the place didn't feel like a house, but now that I think about it, I couldn't even feel where we were. Not knowing or understanding your surroundings can feel like such a frightening thing.

"You're taking too long," Frank shoves me lightly to take a seat. As the car pulls into the main road, every bit of confidence I had, instantly disappears as my heart sinks.
I gasp, "We're in New York City?!"
No, no, no, no... this can't be it. This can't be happening. Not only that I in a completely different city, but I'm also in a completely different country!

The gagging, sickly feeling comes back as I start to feel unwell. Escape seems like a faraway dream now... I just sold... my body... my body? Is that what he said? He couldn't possibly mean it, can he?

He can't possibly be that cruel... he can't... he can't... "Lady, if you throw up again, I won't hesitate to stab your eyes out," Frank warns. "I have a name, it's Zara," I mutter.
"I just threatened to stab your eyes out," he raises a brow. "Well, I just sold myself to the man I was in love with since high school and now I'm in a different country, away from my family and friends, who are probably worried sick. So, stabbing me in the eyes doesn't sound so bad, does it?" I frown.

"It does," he answers. "You're right. It does, stab me. Do it. Gouge my eyes out! In fact, how about you gouge out all my healthy, internal organs and sell them on the black market for some profit?" My voice starts shaking.

"I'll take you up on that offer once Boss is done with you," he smirks. "Promise?" I ask quietly. The seriousness in my tone is reinforced. A slight look of concern flashes across his eyes, but disappears quickly,

"Whatever."

"Promise me that once he's done with me, you'll kill me," I plead. "Stab me, shoot me, harvest my organs until there's nothing left of me but promise to get rid of me."
"Relax, lady," he shifts in his seat. I can tell I've clearly made him uncomfortable with my forward behavior. I wish I could say that this is a joke, I really wish. My mind has entered into a state where it's planning on disassociating whenever anything traumatic or uncomfortable happens to me. It's always been a sort of toxic trait of mine, I just disassociate. I'm physically there but mentally, I've imprisoned myself somewhere else. Something as small as presentations? I read the script but don't remember how I got through it.