Doctor for the Mafia [original]

Ch. 23

Kimberly Stratus:

They only fed me at lunch, the only way I kept track of how long I've been here. This meal marked the fifth day of hostage, 120 hours, 7,200 minutes, 432,000 seconds.

Today was porridge. They sent the same guy down to feed me due to my handless situation. Pietro sat down in front of me, scooping the food into the spoon. Just as he raised it to my mouth, I turned away. Like the past four days, I rejected.

Angry, Pietro tried something new. With his free hand, he held the back of my head, not allowing me to avoid him. He forcefully placed the spoon onto my already bruised lips. I winced in pain as a cut reopened. To satisfy him, I gradually opened my mouth, taking in the porridge. As he smirked in victory, instead of swallowing, I spat all over his face.

Outrage, he raised his hand. I closed my eyes and flinched. Instead of hitting me, he took his revenge in another way. He grabbed the water that came with the porridge and poured it onto himself, cleaning his food-covered face. The only thing I started to consume given from them was now soaked into his shirt. He wasted my water. Before storming out, he threw the empty bottle at me.

A person can survive three minutes without oxygen, three days without water, and three weeks without food. What am I going to do? The only reason for feeding me is to keep me alive since I haven't talked. Either way, if I do speak, I'll get killed after. What use will I be to him then?

I dragged myself to the corner. Leaning my head against the wall as I thought about Matteo and what he said to me.

"We don't do the cliche, the 'no one gets left behind."

I shook my head. I opened my mouth and laughed. I laughed so hard I began to cry. I was laughing at my misery, my pain, and my vain hopes that lead me to believe that Matteo would come and save me.

ㅁㅁㅁ

"How long are you planning to keep this up?" Stollo asked, getting up all on my face. I looked away from him, disgusted.

"Stefano." He called, signaling him.

Stefano's foot made contact to my stomach, sending me from my sitting position to the floor. I coughed out blood as I gasped for air. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to bear the pain. This beating was longer than usual. I blinked, trying to bring back focus to my vision. I licked my busted lips, thinking the bright side of the kick to my stomach. At least it didn't get my broken ribs.

"You know no one will come for you. You better answer my questions before my temper gets the better of me and I'll be forced to take dramatic measures." Stollo said as he fiddled with the knife between his hands.

"Let me ask again," He said. "What will they do next? Take my shipment? Kill more of my men?"

He crouched over me. One hand held my chin to keep me from breaking eye contact. With the other, he pressed the flat side of the blade on my cheek to remind me of my consequences to my actions.

Why did it have to be this question? Couldn't he have asked what dressing Marcella liked with her salad? There was a problem. I don't know the answer. I rarely was in meetings discussing plans.

"They're waiting for your move," I said, trying to sound convincing.

I felt the blade pressed deep onto my skin. I refrained myself from shaking, afraid that I'll end up being cut.

"Really?" he asked, not buying it.

One quick movement, he yanked the knife away from my face. Not before it sliced into my skin. I could feel blood dripping out from the horizontal cut on my left cheekbone.

The knife was now pointed at my throat. Before it can touch my flesh, Stollo was interrupted by his phone. Without pulling the knife away, he reached into his pocket, picking up the call as he took his phone out.

"What?" Stollo answered.

I could hear the other person on the phone talking. Unfortunately, they were speaking in Italian. Whatever the woman on the phone said to him made him upset. He yelled into the phone and then ended the call.

Stollo slowly looked up from his phone. The glare in his eyes added new flames to my fear. Out of nowhere, he threw the knife onto the floor. The action made us all jump as the blade hit the ground, skidding to the far end of the room.

"You are going to tell me who you are and what you do in Il Segreto!" He yelled as he pulled me up to my feet by my collar.

"I'm just a doctor!" I yelled, mortified. I tried my best to push him off.

"You want me to believe that?" He tightened his grip as he lowered his voice.

"Yes. I swear." I said. "I'm not a valuable member."

"Then why the fuck do I have my men telling me they've spotted Matteo and his members driving here?" He asked, angrily. He let go of me to run his fingers through his hair. Without Stollo to keep me up. My bruised legs gave in to my weight, and I found myself on the floor.

"Guard her. Be ready to move. She must be important if they're coming."

Stollo fled the basement, leaving the two men behind to watch over me. Stefano was given rope to tie my feet together.

"Do something funny," He said as he bent down to get the Stollo's knife on the floor, "and you'll see what happens."

Matteo... please hurry.

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