Kidnapped By The Mafia

Stay

The house felt colder after he left. The warmth of the fire in the study did little to chase away the chill that settled over me. I stood there for what felt like hours, staring at the door, waiting for some sign that he might come back, that he might change his mind and come up to me. But the door remained closed and the only sound that was there was the crackling of the dying fire.

It was late, and the darkness outside seemed to press against the windows. I knew I should go to bed, try to get some sleep, but the thought of lying alone in that big, empty bed, with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company was unbearable.

I found myself in the kitchen, the one place in the house that felt somewhat familiar. It was large and old fashioned, with a massive wooden table in the center and an ancient stove that looked like it hadn't been used in years. I hadn't spent much time here, but I liked the simplicity of it, the way it felt like a place where people could come together, share a meal, and forget their troubles, if only for a little while.

I opened the fridge, not because I was hungry, but because I needed something to do with my hands. I pulled out a bottle of water and took a long drink, hoping it would wash away the lump in my throat. It didn't.

I was about to close the fridge when something caught my eye, a small, silver key, resting on the top shelf. It was out of place, sitting there next to a carton of eggs, as if someone had forgotten about it. I picked it up, turning it over in my hands. It was simple, unadorned, but heavy, like it belonged to something important.

Without really thinking, I slipped the key into my pocket and left the kitchen. I didn't know where I was going, but I kept moving, driven by a restless energy that I couldn't shake. I ended up in the east wing, a part of the house that I hadn't explored much. It was quieter here, more isolated.

I turned a corner and found myself in front of a heavy wooden door, different from the others. It was taller, more ornate, with intricate carvings along the edges. I reached out, my fingers tracing the patterns in the wood. It felt cool to the touch, almost cold, and I hesitated, unsure of whether I should open it.

But something inside me urged me forward, a curiosity that I couldn't ignore. I pulled the key out of my pocket and tried it in the lock. To my surprise, it fit perfectly. The door creaked open, revealing a narrow staircase leading down into darkness.

I hesitated at the top of the stairs, my heart pounding in my chest. This was a bad idea. I should turn around, go back to my room, and try to sleep. But something compelled me to go down, to see what was hidden beneath this old, creaking house.

The stairs groaned under my weight as I descended, the air growing cooler and damper with each step. At the bottom, I found myself in a small, stone walled room. It was dimly lit by a single, flickering bulb, and the walls were lined with shelves, filled with old books and papers, covered in dust and cobwebs. It felt like I'd stepped back in time, into a different world, a world that hadn't seen the light of day in decades.

In the center of the room was a table, and on it lay a stack of old letters, tied together with a piece of frayed ribbon. They looked ancient, the paper yellowed with age, the ink faded. I picked up the top letter, my hands trembling slightly as I untied the ribbon and unfolded the brittle paper.

To my Dearest,

I can no longer hold these words in my heart. They weigh on me like the heaviest of burdens. Each day, I pray and wish to be near you, to see you and tell you everything that's trapped inside me. But I am a coward, too afraid to speak aloud what my heart screams for me to say.

So, I write this letter, hoping that somehow, the words will find their way to you, even if I cannot. You've been my light in the darkest of times, the warmth in a world that often feels so cold. But I am bound by chains of fear and circumstance, and I do not know how to break free. I do not know if you even see me the way I see you.