~The lost one~

chapter 41

simi's POV:

I jolted awake, my heart pounding so hard I could almost hear it in my ears. Sweat was sticking my hair to my forehead, and my mouth was as dry as a desert. My hands were shaking uncontrollably, and I felt like I'd just been yanked from a deep, unsettling dream. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand—2:58 AM. The room was cloaked in darkness, and the silence was almost deafening.
It
A flashback from the nightmare was still clinging to my mind, but I tried to push it away. I'd had nightmares like this before—sometimes they were worse, sometimes better. I had learned to manage them, to pull myself together. This one was bad, but not unbearable.

I took deep breaths, focusing on calming my racing heart. After a few moments, I started to feel a bit steadier. The dry throat, though, was a different story.

I was parched. I needed water, but I also wanted to avoid stumbling around the mansion like a sleep-deprived zombie.

Determined, I slipped out of bed, feeling like a sleepwalker navigating a labyrinth. The hallways of the mansion seemed even more maze-like in the dark. I fumbled through the corridors, glancing at my phone's flashlight for guidance. It took me about 15 minutes of wandering before I finally spotted the kitchen door.

I pushed it open, and the dim light from the fridge cast eerie shadows on the walls. The kitchen was pristine and, unsurprisingly, devoid of any spicy foods. I scanned the shelves and drawers, noting that everything seemed oddly bland. I mean, seriously, who doesn't like a bit of spice in their life?

Just as I was about to give up, my eyes landed on a carton of Actimel and a bar of chocolate. Actimel and chocolate? It seemed like such a weird combo, but hey, who was I to judge? If the mafia guys liked their midnight snacks a little odd, so be it.

I grabbed the chocolate and Actimel, heading back to my room with a sense of triumph. It was now 3:15 AM, and I knew I wouldn't be getting back to sleep anytime soon. I munched on the chocolate and sipped the Actimel, finding the absurdity of my late-night snack amusing. Here I was, in the middle of a mafia mansion, eating chocolate and drinking probiotic yogurt. It almost felt like a rebellious act against the seriousness of my new life.

Realizing I might as well make good use of the early hour, I decided to go for a run.

I dressed quickly, slipping on some leggings and a white hoodie over a black tank top. I pulled on white socks and my New Balance 530s.

I wasn't about to take a shower just yet— that could wait until after the run.

I grabbed my headphones, which I wore around my neck, and my watch. I also took the money Vittorio had given me at the airport—he'd insisted I take it, but I hadn't bought anything with it. He'd refused to take it back, so it was still in my possession.

As I left my room, I felt a curious mix of determination and absurdity. My nighttime adventure had turned into a quirky routine. And as I stepped out into the crisp early morning air, I couldn't help but chuckle to myself, thinking, "Well, at least my life is never boring."