Cross My Heart (18+)

Call

Warning: this chapter contains graphic violence that may be disturbing to some readers.

Two weeks had passed since the mysterious man gave me the cryptic business card. Most of my days were spent in my small apartment, listening to old vinyl on the beat up record player my mother had left for me. I read and accumulated books that I found at my local library for fifty cents, sitting by the window all day as the sun came up and set again. I enjoyed the alone time, it gave me a moment to process everything that had occurred in the past six months. However, I knew that I had to find a job as soon as possible, due to the fact that the money my mother had given to me was running low, but I was terrified. As much as I searched through the various newspapers for career options, there were none. I was left with no choice but to call this number.

A part of me also wanted to call due to the fact that the man who had given it to me had patronized me, insinuating that I "couldn't handle it." I knew in my heart that I would do whatever was necessary to survive, and I resented those who dared to assume less of me. On that thought, I stood up from my bed, my muscles aching from my frequent horizontal position. I grabbed the leather jacket off the hanger, digging in each pocket until I found the piece of paper.

I scanned it again, the bolded phone number standing out from the rest of the text on it. With shaky hands, I pulled my phone out from the back pocket of my jeans, and began typing the number in. I took a deep breath before clicking the 'call' button. I gave myself a small pep talk in my head as it rang. You can do it, Lux. You need to do this.

Finally, the ringing stopped. Someone had picked up. But, there was no speaking. "Hello?" I said, my voice sounding pitifully weak and fearful. Still, no response. My heart was practically beating outside of my chest now. What did I get myself into? "Hello, is anyone there? I'm calling for a job opportunity, a man at my local coffee shop gave it to me. He-" Before I could finish my statement, I was roughly cut off.

"Tonight at 11 p.m., come to the end of 21st street. There's stairs leading down to a small room. Knock three times. Do you have any medical experience?" The love voice spoke cryptically. This shit felt like a movie, a part of me wanted to scoff at the dramatization. I paused for a few seconds to gather myself, my words feeling painfully lodged in my throat.

"Do you have any medical experience?" The male voice said, this time louder and sterner. My eyes widened. "I mean, I, uh, learned to stitch and tend to wounds when my father was hurt, because of the lack and price of health insurance. My mother taught me-" Again, the voice cut me off.

"We will see you at 11." Then, he hung up. My hands were shaking vigorously as I felt my throat begin to constrict. What had I gotten myself into?

For the remaining hours of the day, I found myself pacing around my room. I was deep in thought, contemplating whether or not I should follow through with my plans of meeting this man. The possible pros could be: having a job, being able to live without worrying where my next meal would come from, and not losing the roof over my head. However, the cons heavily outweighed the pros. This could all be a sham, and I could get kidnapped and sold. As mentioned before, the government was entirely overthrown. There was no law enforcement, and no one would come looking for me. I had been picking at my cuticles all day nervously, unsure of what to do.

"You need to toughen up, Lux. You have a handgun, pocket knife, and pepper spray. Remember what your mother taught you about self-defense. You will be okay. You need to take this chance or you will be living on the streets, with absolutely no one and nothing to protect you." I spoke out loud to myself. I definitely sounded delirious right about now.

I checked the time, seeing it was 10:30. "Fuck it," I said to myself, grabbing my bag and shoving all of my self-defense tools into it. I looked at the glossy finish of my 9 millimeter caliber gun, placing it carefully at the bottom of my bag. I then ensured my pepper spray worked by spraying some in the sink with one hand, and using the other hand to cover my eyes in case of any draft coming in through the windows. I washed the residue out of the sink, quickly washing my hands. I could never be too safe, especially in this situation.

I pulled on ripped skinny jeans, sliding my small pocket knife into my back pocket. I threw my curly, tangled hair into a bun — making sure to use plenty of hair ties. Men, when attacking, like to grab women by their hair. Take the notorious serial killer Ted Bundy, for example, who grabbed young women by their ponytails. I made sure there were no stray hairs before then slipping on a black hoodie. I grabbed my bag and slipped out the door quietly, making sure to lock up.

The anxiety I was feeling made me feel physically sick. My stomach churned and clenched as I began walking towards the designated street. On google maps, it showed that 21st street was only a few blocks away. I continued to walk, keeping high alertness for sounds and others around me — but the streets were completely vacant. "You have arrived at your destination." The voice on my phone spoke, making me jump. I looked around the area, scanning to see where the discreet staircase was. I almost slapped myself in the face, seeing as it was only a few feet away from me.

Calm down, calm down, I repeated in my head. I slipped my hand down into my back pocket, just to ensure that the knife hadn't slipped out when I was walking.

I began walking down the stairs, the rusted metal creaking with every step. After approximately 100 stairs, I found the door. "Knock three times," the man's voice repeated in my head. With a shaky arm, I clocked my fist against the cold metal door. One, two, three. No answer. As I was about to knock again, the door quietly creaked open, but no one was there. I slyly removed my gun from my bag, making sure to not make any audible noise, holding it with both of my hands as I used to left leg to open the door completely. The lights were on, meaning someone had to be in here.

I scanned the room, seeing a large oak desk in the middle of it. There was a chair in front, along with guns lined up on the back wall in neat order. My heart was thumping, and I all could heart was the pulsations of my blood.

My head snapped around when I heard a shift, but still no person. "Hello?" I asked, suddenly wishing I had never called the number given to me. I felt a forearm go around my throat, making me gasp for air. I lifted my arms as best as I could, trying to find the eyes of the person who was seemingly trying to suffocate me. I felt his eyelids with one hand, before beginning to push my fingers down. However, before I could commence with my actions, he let go. I scrambled to the corner of the room, holding my gun steadily as I waited to fire.

However, I was only greeted with an applause as numerous men stepped out from the darker areas of the room. My chest was heaving rapidly, and I felt dizzy as I tried to catch my breath from the event that had just occurred.

"You have the job." A man who looked to be in his mid-fifties spoke. He was about 5'10, with a long scar running down from his temple to his jawline. His hair was speckled with grey, and he wore (what looked like) a very expensive suit.

"I thought you needed medical experience." I seethed through my teeth, suddenly feeling enraged.

"We do, but with this job, it's imperative that you also know how to defend yourself. You will be working with the most relentless of men. You're quick on your feet, too. Just what we need." The man said, pulling a cigar out and lighting it. I scrunched my nose at the foul scent.

"I don't think this is right for me," I said with a shaky breath. There was no way in hell I would be able to work in a place like this, and the so-called "employers" had already lost my trust. I lowered my gun ever so slightly, my index finger still on the trigger.

"That's the thing, Lux Valentina, you don't have a say in this now. You know about our organization. You either work here, or you die." A chill ran down my spine when he called me by my full name. The threat almost seemed unreal, and his words were painfully honest. I knew these men would have no issue in ending my life.

Then, it dawned on me: my life was about to change for forever.