(18+ EXPLICIT CONTENT)
"I don't fuck around, piccola ragazza." The firm, thick words rolled off his tongue effortlessly, his eyes turning into a glare.
A piercing cold, metal barrel pushed against the right side of my skull, his motions perplexingl...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The unsettling feeling within the pit of my stomach failed to diminish, and the tightening handcuffs began to prohibit any blood flow to the rest of my fingers. I could tell without a glance that they were turning blue, the disturbing coldness emerging into each finger and the base of my palms. I didn't dare ask the peeved man escorting me up to the apartment building to loosen them, his warmth radiating out of his stiff body. The torch I once held walking out of the building appeared to have burned out. The flame was instead placed under my feet as I was slowly serving my mistakes, something I deserved for trying to shortcut my life.
Once we reached the top of the stairs, Officer Moretti gripped the chain of the cuffs, and yanked me backwards into his hard chest. I winced and a yelp fell from my lips, the pain shooting through the entirety of my body. It made this odd heat sweep through my veins and my eyebrows to pull together in a distressed expression.
"Francesco put your keys under your doormat. Hopefully they're still there," He icily spoke next to my ear as he undid the cuffs, his voice full of spite. It sent a shiver down my spine, and my stomach to flop in an unnerving way. I was utterly bothered by the amount of disregard he had for me, though I understood it was because I disrespected their gang or whatever.
After he released the cuffs, he shoved me forwards, not wanting to be near me for another second. My head whipped around, and I saw his black, glaring eyes, the scowl taking place on his features as he descended down the creaking stairs. Soon, he would no longer be in view, and I was in the clear to rush over to my door.
Against my unlucky odds, the keys were sprawled against the floor, flattened due to the weight of the doormat. My phone was also situated right next to them. I swiftly snatched them up with my finger, and pressed them into the keyhole, afraid Moretti or one of the other minions were going to grab a hold of me again. When I infiltrated my apartment, I pressed my back against the door locking it with my right hand, and releasing the strongest breath. I blinked a couple times to ensure I wasn't unconsciously in a dream, or perhaps in this case, a nightmare.
Suddenly, the vibrations from my back pocket erupted against the wooden door, scaring the living bejesus out of me. I gasped and jumped away it, clutching my phone and holding it out for me to see the caller I.D. The words Unknown tainted the lock screen of me and my mother, leaving a perplexing feeling in my stomach. In the back of my mind, I assumed it was Cristian, but the curiosity began to bubble inside of me.
"Hello?" My throat was drier than the Sahara, the word broken as it passed through my lips.
"Viv," The familiar voice pleaded through the other line, the relief in his tone. It surely was the one and only Elijah Mendez, calling me with the pure intent of assistance.
"Fuck you, you greedy motherfucker," The rage and hostility rang through each syllable, slicing the air. I wanted to come off unquestionably angry and aggravated, my heart not holding an ounce of pity for him.
