𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

seven

The next morning, I woke up at a decent time, without any interruptions. When I saw that the time was 9 A.M. and I hadn't been woken to mad man knocking on my door, I was confused — delighted! But confused.

I crawled out of bed and went downstairs before doing any of my morning routine to see if the whole compound had been sniped while I was asleep. The stairs were cold on my bare feet and the whole place was silent. It was actually kind of eerie.

When I reached Marcelo's door, I did a light knock but got no answer. I knocked again, louder this time, and decided to add in some words, "Marcelo! Yoo-hoo!"

Still no answer, so I tried my luck with his door knob and, to my surprise, it was open. I opened the door slowly with a surprised look on my face. I was not expecting that. The door was creaky and I grimaced as the sound continued until the door was at a complete stop.

Marcelo was asleep on top of a pound of papers. His arms were sprawled in front of him and his fingers loosely held a fine tip pen. His head was lying sideways, his cheek smushed against one of the papers. I always figured he'd be a snorer, so seeing him so peacefully asleep was a surprise to me. There wasn't even drool on the papers.

He didn't wake at any of the noise I just ensued, so I decided to push my luck. I tip toed towards his desk and tried to get a good look at the papers that weren't hidden by his multiple body parts.

That wasn't doing much good though. I snuck to the side of his desk and held my breath while leaning down for a closer look. On one of the papers being covered by his humongous hand (a very nice hand if I may add) I saw the first three letters of my family name: Vitale.

What the fuck? I say mentally. I have a subconscious talk with myself about my next move and how I get my hands on that paper when all of a sudden a hand grabs my wrist.

"Che cazzo stai facendo?" His deep voice startles me and I just about jump ten feet into the air. (what the fuck are you doing?)

"You're not very vigilant." I say calmly, "I could've killed you at least 5 times."

His hand hasn't relented on its grip and his eyes are pouring into mine intently, "You didn't answer my question."

"Fine." I fall back and rip my hand out of his grip (which I pretend didn't hurt) and roll my eyes, "I was snooping."

His jaw clenches, "But!" I hold up a finger before he can interrupt, "The only reason I came down here in the first place was out of worry."

He leans back in his chair and folds his arms, "Worry?" He cocks an eyebrow and I nod my head.

"Yeah. You didn't come breaking down my door like the swat team today, so it raised a few red flags." I copy his movements and fold my arms across my chest.

He eyes my breast that are exposed from my white tank top and moves his glance back up to my face in less than a second, "So you just felt like you were entitled to look at my paperwork?"

"Well you really shouldn't leave it sprawled out like that." I shrug.

He pinches the bridge of his nose in clear stress and annoyance, "You should get to the kitchen for breakfast."

"I'll eat when I feel like it." I say and walk out of the room, making sure to close the door on the way out.

I wonder what he's plotting against my family. All I know is that this mission just got a whole lot more interesting now that I know he's up to something.

I just wanted to run home and show my dad that I got something. That I have a lead. I wish that I could've brought my phone, but that's a horrible idea for many reasons.