Ophelia.

06. The Lion and the Mouse.

O P H E L I A   S A M S O N

"I have to ask," I broke the silence. Disturbing images of dead bodies surrounded by pools of blood haunted and clouded my every thought. "Is that a normal....thing to have happen in your quarters?"

We had been driving for an hour straight in complete silence. No music, nothing. Just the sound of the harsh wind forcing its way through our rolled down windows, filling the oddly comforting silence.

Had Mr Salvatore done something to aggravate whomever attacked us? Was it a cry for war? Or perhaps a retaliation of sorts? I wracked my brain for possible reasons as to why there were dead bodies on the floor of Mr Salvatore's house, and why people had to die. Why violence had to be the end all and be all in a mafioso's world.

Mr Salvatore simply ignored my question and responded with a low buzzing hum, rumbling at the pit of his throat. It was neither a yes or a no. My stomach flipped itself over. I didn't know whether to crawl into a little ball and shut my mind off, or to ride the wave of destructive emotions that were yet to come.

"I just can't bring myself to understand why—"

"—The whole situation is being handled as I speak. If you feel terrible about it all, you may leave as soon as I know we are in the clear. Safe." He interrupted me in that stern I'm-your-boss voice of his. "So, please, no more of this prying business."

My blood began to boil slowly. I frowned, looking down at the deep, raw, screwed up skin and dried blood on my thighs. I knew the skin would scar terribly. I was lost for words. Prying business? He thought I was being nosy? Hadn't I at least earned an explanation after all that chaos?

So he continued. "Emilio tells me you've signed your contract. You may retract your signature on one condition."

I furrowed my eyebrows, now looking out onto the road. I felt disconnected from my current situation, as if the shock of it all was finally settling in.

"I don't wish to retract my signature," I said almost like a pouty child.

It fell silent for a few grim seconds.

"Why is that?" His voice was coloured in slight shock as if he hadn't expected my reluctance to stay with his business. I wanted to shoot something. With a gun. Why wouldn't he just try to explain the situation to me? I felt as though I needed him to tell me something that would put a rest to all my rushing thoughts and emotions. And why had he offered me to retract my signature? He wanted me to resign? Hell no.

'Retracting my signature means giving up', I wanted to say.

"I will not retract my signature."

We both sat in a frustrating silence for a very long moment. I stole a few glances at his face, and I was thankful that he couldn't see me. We were sitting, engulfed in the darkness as the sun had completed its cycle for the day. The moon was high up in the sky, twinkling proudly with the stars by its side.

We slowly turned into a gated community, stopping at the illuminated security stall. There was a man, reading a book behind a desk, and he looked up at us. His cheeks were red like apples, and his head was bald. His eyes were kind, wholesome.

"Hello, who are you here to see?" The older security guard asked gruffly. He eyed Mr Salvatore lazily and shifted on his feet to look closely at me, eyes squinting.