Mobster's Little Girl

Chapter 2: Cells Are Only For Criminals

I felt myself begin to shake in pure terror. My pupils dialated, and I couldn't breath. How long had I been on this trunk? Hours? Days? Although my common sense told me it had only been at least an hour.
"Oh caro Signore aiutami! Oh caro Signore aiutami!" I prayed in a hushed whisper. Thinking about yelling I decided against it. It would only get me shot. Or worse. Me, an Italian, sent to the hotspot of the Irish mafia? Not to mention my father was a Don! They would kill me without batting an eye. I tried to push all of those awful stories Giovanni had told me when I was younger of what the Irish mob did to their targets and victims to the back of my head, but they ended up resurfacing to the front. Images of me roasting on a stick, or either being decapitated and having my eyes used a pool balls flooded my thoughts, and I was horrified.
"Damn you, Giovanni! Telling your sister stories like that!" I cursed. But as much I tried to ignore it, I knew I would probably end up like the man I was currently thrown on top of. Speaking of which, had began to get very cold. His blood was everywhere, staining my clothing and letting out an awful stench. I felt claustrophobic, trapped in a small trunk with a dead body heading to the headquarters of the mortal enemies of the mafia I was unlucky enough to be born into. My life would probably just end right here, in the trunk of this car, with my skinned body sleeping with the fishes. But what about poor mama? She needed me! Giovanni can barely take care of himself, much less a mentally broken woman. And with his inner resentment, it be better if he wasn't around her that often. Oh lord, and Giovanni! If he ever found out I was murdered, and the Irish mafia was involved, he'd probably start an all out war! It was then that I decided that I couldn't die; too much was on the line. But that wouldn't exactly stop them from killing me if they felt the need to. So, I had two options: fight back, or negotiate. Well, I had nothing to fight back with that I knew of. I tried my best to use my free fingers to feel in the pockets of the deceased man under me, but I felt no gun or any kind of knife.

"Gravemente?! What kind of mobster doesn't carry a weapon with him at all times? No wonder this idiota got killed!" I stressed quietly. So fighting back was very much out of the option. But how in the world could I negotiate with them? I considered telling them my father was a Don, but that was a double edged sword. If the odds were in my favor, they would fear my status and let me go. However, they could easily just as well see me as valuable and keep me hostage. I saw the latter as being the most likely. so it was then I decided I wouldn't reveal that information until I was certain they would kill me. But what if they still decided to kill me? I felt the car come to an uneasy stop. It was relatively quiet except for the voices of the men in the car and some other distant ones. I craned my neck to get just a glimpse of what they were saying, but my attempts failed. So I just sat there and waited for something to happen. And eventually, my patience payed off. Out of nowhere, the trunk lid was thrown open, and I was greeted with the sight of a large, red haired, hairy man who smelt of cigaretts and ale. I recognised him immediately; he was the one who had me thrown in the trunk.
"Ello there, snapper!" he greeted in a thick Irish accent.
"I'm a bit jaded, and my buddy over there is... well, he's a gobshite. So I'll just take you in there now." He picked easily picked me up with one arm and threw me over his shoulder. I began to kick and scream furiously
"Shut your gob! No one can hear ya right now, anyway!" he scolded. I hopelessly looked around to see that he was right; wherever we were, it included a giant, lit up warehouse. Various noises and yelling could be heard, as if they were throwing some sort of party. It was at this point that my captor began dragging me, until we finally reached some metal door in the back of the warehouse. It seemed like the house had gotten ten times louder, and me, being beat up just an hour before, was starting to feel massively sick. I began shaking from the chills when suddenly I heard a slot open above my head.
"What is it, Arthur?" the unknown man asked in a very thick Irish accent as well.
"Hate to interrupt your hooley, but I've got some unwanted cargo," he answered, patting my back. I could hear the slot closing again, only to open moments later.
"Toss 'er in the cellar," he voice replied. And with that, I was dragged down a Lord knows how long flight of stairs, and abruptly thrown in some sort of cell, similar to one you'd see in a jail. It was in a small room, lit with a single lightbulb. With a slam of the door and the turn of a key, I was trapped, with no way of getting out.
"Well, goodbye! I'm off to have a kip, and I suggest you do the same. You'll be in here for a bit, lassie," he explained, walking back up the steps.
"But wait, you can't leave me here!" I cried out.
"Oh shut it! At least I took off your ropes! And besides, you'll get some company soon enough," he said abit mockingly, and jogged up the stairs, leaving me there to rot. That's when I been to panic. I was trapped in some cell in Hell's Kitchen, surrounded by people who could, and probably would, kill me. Nobody knew where I was, and neither did I. I doubt I could escape, and even if I did, where would I go? This place was probably crawling with Irish mobsters. And what about Mama?! She needed me! Tears began to roll down my cheeks, and I did little to stop them. I was screwed, and Mama would be thrown in a looney bin! But then a sudden thought hit me: what did he mean by "company"? Was it another dead body? Someone unlucky enough to be in the same position as me? My questions were answered when I heard footsteps and voices coming down the stairs. Shocked, I quickly wiped my face and crawled back into the darkest corner of my cell, trying my best to hide in the shadows. They stopped momentarily, speaking in some foreign language, thick with heavy accents, before coming down the the bottom steps. However, it was just one person. And instead of the bearded, hairy men I'd been seeing all night, it was a boy, probably no more than my actual age. Instead of some sort of weapon, he had a pencil and sketch pad. A yell was heard from the top steps in the foreign languages they were speaking in before, and they exchanged words a bit more before the other person finally left with the slam of a door. The boy walked over to my cell, peering in curiously with bright lime green eyes, before nonchalantly walking out of my view to the side of it. I curiously listened as I heard furious scribbling, a wipe or two, and then even more scribbling. It was this way for several minutes until he finally said something.
"Ya know, this would be a lot less tense if you just said something," he suggested, accent much less heavy although still there. That just made my blood boil.
"Why would I talk to the likes of you? Your people throw me in a cell like I'm some sort of animal, and you think I want to have a conversation with you?! I curse you!" I spat out. I admit, I sounded pretty rude, but I wasn't bent on apologising. My mother could be somewhere, needing my help.
"Well, for one, I'm gonna be the only one down here with you for a while. And yikes, sorry! But I'm not the one who kidnapped ya! Don't be so cheesed-off at me!" he whined defensively, and yet somewhat calmly. Cheesed-off? What did that even mean?!!
"So what! You gangsters are all the same, anyway! Join a gang, thinking you're becoming a man, when in reality you're just a heartless criminal that doesn't care about anything else but your pride! You disgust me!" I raged. By now, I was completely out of my corner and the shadows, almost at the bars separating us. I wouldn't admit it, but I knew I was still upset about the fight Giovanni and I had before I left. And I guess my anger was just releasing itself. He was silent for a moment, before speaking again. But this time, his voice was much quieter.
"And just what makes you think that I chose to be a gangster, hm? What makes you think I chose this life?" he asked. My face immediately fell, and although I couldn't see him, I could tell I had offended him. I cursed myself for being so hot-headed and jumping to conclusions, but I was still to pissed off to apologise. But what he said .... he sounded so familiar. He sounded like ... me. Before I knew it, he had turned over, and was now facing me. I jumped back a bit, surprised. Glancing at me curiously, he gave me a cheeky grin before lifting up his sketch pad. It was a drawing of him. And although I wouldn't have ever told him at that moment, it was actually pretty good. Same wild red hair, bushy red eyebrows, bright green eyes. and freckles on his nose and cheeks that I hadn't noticed before.
"That's me," he spoke up, breaking my concentration.
"I'm Alroy Bigley, and all be your guard for.... well, however long they decide to keep you here." I eyed him suspiciously, deciding I might as well introduce myself. Maybe if I got him to trust me, I could get out of here.
"Carina. Carina Abruzzo," I stated plainly.
"Well, nice to meet you, Carina Abruzzo. I would shake your hand, but... ya know," he said awkwardly. I subconscious rolled my eyes.
"Yes, that would make it kind of difficult," I replied. Apparently, he got my clue, and silently scooted back over to the side of the cell, out of my sight.
"Oh, and Miss Abruzzo," he said.

"What?" I impatiently asked.

"Don't think I'll just let you go just because I've introduced myself. I may be polite, but I'm not stupid," he frankly stated.
I silently gasped. How did he know I was thinking that?!

"I'll keep that in mind," I responded.

And the room was once again, engulfed silence. Damn that Alroy Bigley.....

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A/N: Hey guys! I'm really sorry about how long it took for this second chapter to come out! I wasn't sure about the direction I was taking this story in, but I think I've figured it out now! So anyway, if there was anything I could've done better, I insist you let me know! So bye, and thank you for reading!

Translations:
Oh caro Signore aiutami = dear Lord please help me

Gravemente = seriously