Belladonna (Tom Holland)

Eleven

Freedom can only get you to so many places if you don't have money, which is why rather than leave the city, I returned to my apartment. Funnily enough, my furniture was still there even though I recalled Tom saying Harrison took it to decorate some room. The door was still open since the day I was kidnapped and I'm surprised nobody had broken in. Right now my apartment seemed like a mythical creature and I was weary of its existence.

I closed the door and locked it before wandering around. It had been months since I've been back and I felt like I was intruding. It was my apartment for Christ's sake! I wandered into my bedroom and found boxes on top of the bed with my clothes. Clothes that I hadn't worn in such a long time. All I've known was whatever I was kidnapped in and Lorenzo's closet. Opening up one of the boxes I took out an olive green shirt with faded print. It was one of my favorite shirts. I brought it to my nose and breathed in the scent. It felt like home. It felt like safety.

There was a glistening in my eye as I was holding the shirt. Setting it down, I reached for what was inside the box and picked it up. It was the framed photo of my parents and I that I grabbed before I left for the Program. We were all smiling in front of the birthday cake before I blew out my candles. I just lost my front teeth so I looked dorky. My parents were eight years younger but that didn't make a difference; they never looked a day past thirty. My dad wasn't wearing his usual suit, instead he was in a Van Halen shirt and some jeans, and my mom wore her college sweatshirt with some yoga pants. They didn't look like powerful players of the mafia, they just looked like my parents.
I wiped a tear from the back of my hand as I looked at the photo. God, I missed them so much. Everyday I had to relive their death for Tom's sake, whether it was for torture or for business. I had to look Lorenzo in the eye with the knowledge that he carried out the hit on my father. I had to be alone. I had to be the orphan.

I placed the picture on my dresser and left the bedroom, trying to rid my thoughts of everything that's happened. I wanted to remember the good things, but none could come to fruition. I got kidnapped and tortured, and now I was put back into the world with all this PTSD. The only plus side was that I had a degree, so I could get a job, but for what? To become emotionally connected and then another mob boss kidnaps me? I don't think I could ever commit to anything anymore. There's always going to be something looming over my shoulder.

There was a knock on my door and I looked through the peephole to see who it was. It was my landlord. He lost weight from the last time I saw him and he was twiddling his thumbs rather quickly. I unlocked the door and opened it. He was surprised to see me behind the door. "Miss Berry," he said, "I thought you were-" "I know," I let out a weak smile, "What can I do for you?" To be frank, I had forgotten I went by Andrea Berry and that there were hundreds of people in this world that only knew me as such. Hearing my real name had felt so much like home, now the one thing that was a symbol for my safety tasted bad on my tongue.

"I just wanted to talk about your rent," he said, looking back down at his thumbs. He was scared, and it seemed as if he was scared of me. "Oh!" I nodded, "I was wondering about that too since I had been gone for so long. How mu-" "Everything's been covered," he interjected, "In fact, the whole building's covered. An anonymous buyer purchased it a couple days ago."

It didn't take a genius to figure out who the buyer was. Once I heard the news, two emotions ran through me. One that made my stomach crawl with knots, and another where my heart couldn't stop racing. I painted a smile on for my landlord, "Oh that's pleasing!" "It is," he trailed off, looking down the hall before focusing on his thumbs again. I dropped my smile, "What's wrong?"Before I could react, he ran into my apartment, shut the door and locked it before falling to his knees, burying his face in his hands, and letting out a choked sob. I squatted to his level, unsure of what to do. "What's wrong?" I asked, my voice laced with concern, "What's happened?"