𝖫𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖺 𝖽𝗂 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗈

c i n q u e║f i v e

↬ a d r i a n n e ↫

"The Italian Mafia. You're a part of it!" I state, now without a doubt about it.

He does not answer. He scoffs and closes the door behind him and leaves me alone in this big room with nothing to do except to think about my journey to here.

And who the flying fuck is Annabella and why did she look exactly like me.

I'm dominated by fear and confusion, therefore I can't control the tears from dropping.

Fuck! I have a hatred for fear. It's so exasperating not to know where I am and what is going to happen to me.

I've always had control over my life. My entire life has been decided by me, from moving out of South Africa to the United States because I was sick of my parents, to flying off to Italy when I turned eighteen.

Everything has been handed out to me like a piece of cake, all things were effortlessly given to me. And now I have nothing to be given.

Apparently, I lost my freedom, I lost my fucking my friends and my family.

My family. Will I ever see them again?

Panic starts to take over my every cell. As my knees begin to feel weaker and my palms sweaty, I let go of my embrace and lie down on the enormous mattress.

The exhaustion finally hits me and I fall asleep with the hope that when I wake up everything is going to be over and I will be in my ocean view apartment.

=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=

All my hopes crash down as my eyes open and see again the dark themes bedroom. I deeply sigh, for the first time in a long time, because I'm tired of fighting against myself.

I let the anxiety take control of my whole body and my chest begins to hurt.

I need water.

I slowly climb out of the bed and start walking towards the shut door.

"I never harm innocents, Luciana" I hear his voice whispering.

I interrupt my steps astonished at his words. A sense of relief fills me as I hear that very useful information.

"You don't have a choice, brother" another voice, rather feminine counters back.

"I did some research on her." he pauses for a couple of seconds, then proceeds to say: "I can't kill her!" He never raises his voice. Always keeping it plans but with a certain authority in it that I haven't heard in a while.

My ears are now well attentive to his words. I lean toward the door and tilt my head so that my ear makes contact with the wooden door.

He did investigation on me and came to the conclusion that he can't kill me. Good for me, isn't it? If he can't kill me, I might as well have to kill him.

I still have a gutting feeling about this.

"Well, Marcello. You are a dead man"

Marcello.

"Not on my watch, sister"

"This could get you kill-" she begins to say, her voice wobbly and low, but Marcello was quick to shush her up.