Rage

♠FOURTEEN♠

I dont know what time it is, and i havent been keeping track of the days but it should be sunday or monday, i think. When i woke up Sal had disappeared, he wasn't beside me. How can someone be so huge of a workaholic. Its not like he needs enough money for his rent or he has depts to pay. Lawrence said he was the head of the mafia, so why the hell does he kill himself with soo much work.

Im unhealthy for chewing on cereal but i dont feel like eating any large breakfasts or exclusive dishes, this is normal for Sal, he wakes up to healthy foods like potatoes, green peas and lamb sauce, I, on the other hand wake up to bacons, scrambled eggs or cereal. Im not complaining i see breakfast on my table and i was very grateful for it. To be honest nothing beats cereals even.

I close the rectangular box and wash my digged in crusty fingers in the sink and drink a glass of water. I walk back to Sals room. Its impossible to believe that my life goes on like this.

I wasnt so bothered about the previous days, because i thought my mum would call a police and they'll track my exact location but nothing, she might've called but the NYPD cant solve a case with no evidence, or even worst they know Sal is there biggest rival, so they back away.

The question still hits me a thousand times. why haven't i been saved?

I decide to take a stroll on the hallway. The paintings on the walls are soo magnificent, i need to know the story behind it, if Sal hadn't taken my phone i would've google-scanned it. If i had my phone i would've escaped better without causing anyones death.

I need to get my phone, i need to get it back from Sal, im taking long strands across the hall until i spot an open door, i know i shouldn't be in there, because the first day i was here it was locked, he locked all the rooms except his bedroom.

My curiosity is hitting me with a thousand folds. I need to know, i hear a slight faded voice, what sounds like Sal, i thought he was at work.

The more i came closer the more i hear his voice, he's making out words i do not understand he's speaking italian words, i knew i should've learnt italy when i had the chance, my cousin, Grace, speaks seven languages, one of them includes italy, she offered me free lessons but i shunned her off, i never had the thought of ever being kidnaped by a billionaire psychopathic italian man.

I only had the thought of being the billionaire. I rolled my eyes as i saw him on the call yelling fluent words, he seems angry, on a normal day Sal is flirty and always teasing, ive seen him angry once though, that was my fault, i spilled hot coffee on him to get a reaction. I still didnt regret doing it, i was fuming then, and at point we wanted to pull each others hair out, we still have the thought.

Last night is a good example, we argued a thousand times, i yelled and he called me names, we said we weren't each others type and all of a quick sudden we ended on the same bed.

Not mention the fact that i accused him. If it were a competition, i would say Sal won, he seemed less bothered when he threw his insults, i was the one going crazy and thinking of ways to escape the situation.

I take a good look at the room, it has white walls and an a long curtain at the side, i suppose behind it is a wide window glass. He has a long wooden desk occupied with a desk lamp, calendar, pen holder, paperworks and a computer system with a mouse pat. I notice a tea cup on a small saucer, i didnt take him as one who would take tea instead of coffee.

Im leaning on the door frame, watching him, he's back is facing me and im wandering what could make him this mad, what could lit him up soo badly. After few minutes, he ends the call and when im about to disappear he's husky italian voice fills my ear. "What do you want rage?" He's not even looking at me as he speaks, he sits on the swivel chair.