Black Angel

Chapter Fourteen

Zola / Derrick

Zola

    My head... I don't remember any time my head hurt that bad. I felt my wrists and ankles tied to the thing – I guess a chair? – I was sitting on, but I also felt some kind of tape sealing my lips.
    What the hell happened?
    Wait... I was walking out of the building where my therapist was, when... Nope. The only thing I remember is everything going black. But if I'd passed out, why would someone tie me up instead of taking me to a hospital or even just splashing water on my-
    Wait... a cloth, the smell...
    Yup, I was kidnapped.
    Okay, and where am I? I still can't see anything because of a probable bag over my head.
    "Wakey wakey, miss piggy." A male voice sang. Really? Miss piggy? Wow, how original.
    But who is this? Before I could ask anything, someone pulled the bag off my head.
    Oww. The sudden switch from darkness to light was burning my eyes. After blinking a few times, my vision cleared, and I saw that I was in some kind of... dungeon? The fuck?
    "Come ooonnn-ah. Wake up already, I'm getting bored." The voice was familiar. But where did I-
    Slap. "Wake the fuck up, whore!"
    Blinking my eyes a few more times, I looked up to see a face which was also familiar. The man pulled off the tape and I grimaced at the sting, moving my jaw a bit for exercise after being shut for... I don't know how long.
    "Who are you? What do you want from me?" My voice was low, but I was proud it didn't shake even the tiniest bit.
    "None of your concern. For now. If your hubby dubby really loves you, he'll come for you. I know him too good not to know. But if he won't, after our first message, I'm afraid you'll get quite a bit uglier than you are already." He shrugged.
    Isn't it weird that I'm not scared? Well, I should be. Shouldn't I? But I'm not and I don't know why. What could these people do to me my mom didn't already, anyways?
    "Mom, please, I didn't do anything!" I cried out as she forced my hand on the hot stove. Instead of using one of her wooden spoons to cook, I used one made of steel. "Of course you did! Who else would destroy my granite pan?"
    I wasn't able to use my hand properly for two weeks after this. I told dad, but he said that I probably did something to deserve that punishment by my mother, although I saw an unreadable emotion in his eyes that day.
    "How dare you, huh?!" Mom slapped me again. I got used to her abuse, so my head didn't really move.
    I was ironing the clothes and accidentally burned a tiny corner on one of her blouses. A peach one. It was her favorite one.
    "And now you also have the audacity to even not look me in the eyes?" Pulling me by my hair behind her, she went to their bedroom and took out one of dad's thick black leather belts. Pulling my shirt over my head, she stuffed it in my mouth and kept me knelt before her, her hand in my hair and my back facing her.
    Then, the cold leather came down on my skin. Several times.
    I could feel its burn sometimes. Even nowadays, despite everything left of that days are scars on my back, or my stomach, or my upper arms or thighs. And as always, when I told dad, he said that I was taking it personal, blah blah blah...
    I couldn't hear it sometimes.
    A sting in my left cheek pulled me out of the memories.
    Did someone slap me?
    Yep. I felt something wet oozing out the left corner of my mouth, and I tasted something ferrous.
   "Sorry if that'd hurt, Piggy. But we need to make you look nice for the tape."
    The tape? As in video tape or-
    Another hit to my face.
    This time with a fist on my right eye, causing my head to jerk back a bit.
    Naawww, that'll be black later on. I'm sure.
    "Naasss-tyyyy." That guy was enjoying this a bit too much.
    "I'm starting to feel offended. Should I take it personal that you're enjoying yourself, and punishing me, so much?" I breathed out.
    Girl shut up, what are you doing?!
    "Ohhh, she's a feisty one. Amazing! But we'll get to need that later, when we use your mouth for another naaass-tyyy purpose."
    I knew what he meant. I won't suck anyone off. Never in a million years. Only over my dead body am I pleasuring those adamant, insolent pricks.
    I huffed, which was followed by another slap instantly.
    He wanna kill me or something? If so then there's no need to drag it along, just do it.
    "Julio! Enough! That'll perfectly do it." Another man entered. I took him in: black, slicked back hair, black suit, white shirt – no tie – and black leather shoes.
    Who- no, what are those men?
    Would I believe in that creepy shit, I'd say they're from a maf-
    Wait.
    Hold up.
    Julio?
    As in...
    Oh, hell nahhh.

Derrick

    Where the fuck is she?
    She was gone for eighteen hours now.
    Eighteen fucking hours and I couldn't shake the feeling off that they are responsible for her disappearing. Well, at least she left Dr. Kaminsky's eighteen hours ago.
    My heart skipped a beat as the doorbell rang though the house.
    I literally flew towards the door, just to see... nobody. I looked to the left and right. Not a single soul.
    As I was about to close the door, I glanced down and saw an USB drive on the doormat.
    What the...
    Glancing around one more time I still couldn't see anyone. I picked up the drive and closed the door again, walking towards the living room.
    I took my MacBook, pressed the power button and plucked the USB drive in. Opening the dossier, I saw only a video and a couple photos and clicked on them.
    No. No no no no NO! Fuck!
    It was her. She was tied to a chair, her face bruised, her clothes dirty and her blouse ripped open. Blood was leaving those beautiful lips and her eye swollen and purple.
    I'm going to kill them. I am going to fucking kill them. Slowly.
    How dare they?
    The rage I was feeling right now, I don't think I was ever in my life. Seeing the pictures of her eyes closed, her presumably unconscious, and her face full of bruises was a piercing pain in my chest.
    This is all your fault. You couldn't protect her.
    Those thoughts only spurred my rage on more, so I started hitting the heels of my hands against my temples, pacing the room up and down.
    Fuck.
    What am I going to do?
    Ryan!
    Producing my phone from the pocket of my sweatpants, I dialed his number and – thank fuck – it took him only two rings to pick up.
    "Hel-"
    "Ryan I need you to track a phone down."
    It may seem rude, but I could always make it up to him later. Saving Zola has priority now.
    "Good evening to you too, Derrick."
    "Ryan." I didn't have time for his temper now.
    "Number."
    I told him and started hearing clicking noises from a keyboard. My heart rate picked up pace the longer it took him to tell me anything.
    "No location found. I'll-"
    "What do you mean no location?"
    "With no location I mean no location, D. The signal of her phone ends on the highway and after that she's like – poof. Gone."
    Gone.
    She's not gone.
    Gone would she be if she was dead. And like I knew them, they wouldn't kill her until they got what they wanted.
    My soul back.
    But I wouldn't just submit. I knew exactly what I needed to do.
    "Ryan, you still in contact with Valentino?"
    "Yes, but-"
    "His contacts, please."
    "Derrick, they-"
    "Ryan! For fuck's sake. I don't have time to argue."
    After a sigh, he gave me the contacts and I hung up.
    Valentino Di Voglio. Let's see if you're as skilled as everyone always praises.