Ransom (On Hold)
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- Parts 10
"What the fuck," I heard a deep, terrifying voice growl. "I told you to bring me back Moretti's son, not his fucking daughter." My eyes remained glued to the floor in front of me. My was heart racing as the voice inside my head insisted that I don't glance up at the men in the room.
"She was the only one there, Luca," another man responded. I could sense the hesitation in his voice.
"How hard is it to follow a simple order. Have you all forgotten who I am?" The terrifying man spoke, his voice raising with each articulate word. My body began to quiver.
I watched as a pair of feet made their way towards me. Each step sent a shock of nerves throughout my being. The man stopped right in front of me, dropping down so that his face was level with mine. His finger looped under my chin, forcing me to look at him. My eyes met a set of dark green ones and my breath caught in my throat. His eyes carefully examined my obviously fearful face.
"Your father owes me a lot of money, Sweetheart," he smirked. "Let's hope he thinks that you're worth the sum he owes me."
My body tensed as my eyes widened in fear. As horrible as it sounds, I knew that my father wouldn't be willing meet his demands. What I didn't know, and frankly was more afraid of, is what was to happen when the frightening man in front of me realized his ransom was worth nothing.
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I shoved my black curly hair behind my ear, staring at my reflection in the cracked hallway mirror. Black eyes, tan skin-Italian on my mother's side, a little olive glow from spending too much time inside hiding from the world. My lips were set in that sarcastic line I always used when I didn't want to show fear. I looked small, unassuming, harmless. Perfect for slipping through the cracks unnoticed. "Sophia, are you even listening?!" my mother barked from the kitchen, her voice sharp and jagged. I sighed, walking toward the sound. "I'm listening," I muttered, though I wasn't. Her words had lost meaning after years of shouting, threats, and empty promises. "You think I like living like this?" she snapped, slamming a hand on the counter. "Your father can't do anything right, and now-now we're going to lose everything. Do you understand that?" "Yes, Mom," I said softly, dropping my gaze to the floor. I didn't flinch. Not outwardly. Inside, my stomach twisted like a knot of barbed wire. Dad didn't look up. He was hunched over the kitchen table, bills and letters spread out in front of him. The lines on his face had deepened in the past year. I didn't even know how long it had been since he'd smiled. "It's not like we have money to pay them," he muttered, voice low, almost broken. Mom spun toward him, eyes blazing. "Then what do you expect? That we just...give up? Sophia's going to fix this!" I froze mid-step. The words hit me like a punch to the chest. My parents had...sold me. Not even metaphorically. Literally. "Sold" was the only word that fit.
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I shoved my black curly hair behind my ear, staring at my reflection in the cracked hallway mirror. Black eyes, tan skin-Italian on my mother's side, a little olive glow from spending too much time inside hiding from the world. My lips were set in that sarcastic line I always used when I didn't want to show fear. I looked small, unassuming, harmless. Perfect for slipping through the cracks unnoticed. "Sophia, are you even listening?!" my mother barked from the kitchen, her voice sharp and jagged. I sighed, walking toward the sound. "I'm listening," I muttered, though I wasn't. Her words had lost meaning after years of shouting, threats, and empty promises. "You think I like living like this?" she snapped, slamming a hand on the counter. "Your father can't do anything right, and now-now we're going to lose everything. Do you understand that?" "Yes, Mom," I said softly, dropping my gaze to the floor. I didn't flinch. Not outwardly. Inside, my stomach twisted like a knot of barbed wire. Dad didn't look up. He was hunched over the kitchen table, bills and letters spread out in front of him. The lines on his face had deepened in the past year. I didn't even know how long it had been since he'd smiled. "It's not like we have money to pay them," he muttered, voice low, almost broken. Mom spun toward him, eyes blazing. "Then what do you expect? That we just...give up? Sophia's going to fix this!" I froze mid-step. The words hit me like a punch to the chest. My parents had...sold me. Not even metaphorically. Literally. "Sold" was the only word that fit.
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