Secrets.

Unfeeling

Chapter 9 - Unfeeling.

 Nothing had changed in my life, not really.

 For a start, I was running once again, as per usual. I wonder how I'd manage with a prosthesis, when this is all I do? But I suppose I'd find a way. I ran when I was scared. I ran when I was upset. I ran when I was angry. I ran full-stop. I was pathetic.

 I skipped the elevator in favour of going around strange corridors until I found a stairs. I stopped running to briefly contemplate whether or not I'd been able to slide down the many banisters. It seemed that I had found the fire escape stairs, so chances were that I would fall to my death if I did happen to lose my grip on the exceptionally thin bannister. I figured what the hell?, and eased myself onto the continuous stream of aluminium.

 I squealed  in delight as I found myself zipping along, the trail of my dress bunching up. It was the first bit of enjoyment I'd had all day. As the adrenaline kicked in, I stopped thinking.

 I can't say I was overly impressed however when the slide ended and the momentum of going down the descending banister propelled me violently against a stone wall. My head cracked against the stone and for a moment, my vision was blurry and I could see stars. I groaned as I reached my hand to touch the back of my head. It was hot and damp. And it hurt like hell.

 I shakily got back up to my feet. I moaned as my foot just collapsed from under me and I barely managed to save my head from slamming against the ground. Wincing, I used the wall to help me get up. I took a deep breath and put some weight on my ankle. I bit back a yelp. I added a touch more weight and forced myself to walk as best I could.

 It was a painful journey from the stairwell to the front lobby. And my situation showed no sign of improving.

 The sight that greeted me in the lobby made my anger rage.

 The hotelier was being held at gun point by some tall, muscular, dark-haired man. I couldn’t yet see his face but it was the look on that weasels face when he saw me that caught me. He was obviously petrified. His eyes were popping out of his head in such a disturbing fashion, I was surprised that they remained in their sockets. And yet they filled with hope as they drank me in, still in my gorgeous ensemble. He started waving his arms around frantically to get my attention.

“Buona sera,” I said in a cold voice.

 “Aiuto! Aiuto!” he yelled, only to receive a slap across the head from the other man who then turned to face me. I didn’t bother look at him; my eyes remained only on that rat. He didn’t help me and yet here he was screaming for help from none other than me.

 “Non capisco,“ I retorted bitterly.

 “Aiuto! Aiuto! Help me! Please! HELP!” he screeched in terror as the man gave him a dirty look.

 I snorted. “I don’t understand. SO sorry!” I chuckled at the end.

 He started to cry. Actually cry. “PLEASE HELP ME! HE’S GOING TO KILL ME! HELP!” He received another whack and I barely managed to stop myself from smiling at his frustration.

 I gave him one of my most innocent looks. “Sorry, but I don’t understand you. What are you saying?”

 He started wailing about not wanting to die. I simply threw my hands up in an “I’m clueless” expression.

 The big oaf frowned at me, his brow furrowed. “Don’t you speak English?”

 I stalked over to him, pulled back my arm and punched him right between the eyes. I could feel something snap in my hand and quickly removed my fist. Without thinking, I took a step back and kicked him in the stomach to wind him. I felt another snap but this time it was accompanied by pain that made me bite my tongue. I’d forgotten about my ankle.