Luciano | Book I ✓

Chapter One

"Do you have a key?" I heard my mom shout, her voice faint over all the other chattering. I nodded, sending a thumbs-up her way, before they walked into the terminal and out of sight.

Freedom at last.

With college out till August, I was a free woman.  My parents trusted me enough to keep the house safe and I knew they wouldn't be worried about me throwing raging parties.  The only parties I was known to throw were attended by one person - me - and they typically included Netflix, popcorn, chocolate, wifi, a phone charger, and depending on the time of the month, Ben and Jerry's ice-cream.   

I reached the parking lot and hopped inside my parent's beige 2003 Toyota Camry.  It was by no means luxurious, but it got me from point A to point B, and that was all that mattered.

The ride home was quicker, probably because I didn't have to hear about my mom complaining about anything and everything that could go wrong. I loved my mom, I really did, but sometimes she was just a little ray of pitch black.

Pulling into my driveway, I parked the car and hopped out; grabbing my purse and phone. My gold watch dangled from my hand, and I quickly slid it onto my left wrist. Stepping onto the porch, I reached into my bag and pulled out my key ring - the red king indicating it was to my house.

I tested the doorknob first, something I always did.  The door was locked and a sense of security fell over me. Unlocking the door a few seconds later, I stepped inside, closed the door, and immediately I stopped.

A man stood in my foyer, a picture of my family in his hands.  He wore dark clothing; black pants, a matching tee-shirt, and boots.  A gun was shoved in a holster that wrapped itself around his upper thigh.  A few strands of dirty blonde hair fell over his youthful face.

Slowly - and do I mean slowly - I watch as he lifts a hand to his head, pressing a finger against the blue-tooth in his ear.  And as quietly as he can, he states, "We have company." 

I skedaddled. 

I ran.

I bolted.

I dashed.

I practically flew up the steps, headed towards my father's bedroom.  In case of emergencies, he kept a loaded pistol in his closet, one that could've been used in this situation.  It would've come in handy if I had made it there.

The second my foot makes contact with the top step, I'm sent flying backwards. 

Gravity took over and I found myself free-falling down the steps, my back taking the majority of the abuse.  The wooden steps held no mercy for me as I rolled and flipped, losing my sense of awareness.  I landed on the first floor in a breathless daze, unable to move as pain rippled through me.

My world began to spin and the last thing I saw before I passed out, was the front door.

Why hadn't I just run out the front door when I had the chance?

Present Time

I didn't know the day nor the time and I found myself having a hard time trying to remember my own name.

My attention lifted from the floor at the sound of footsteps.  Two men descended the rickety set of stairs, slowly approaching me.  I scooted as far as I could against the wall, wishing nothing more than the world to open up and swallow me.

"You look awful," The one on the right spoke first, his face etched in concern; genuine or not, I couldn't tell. He had dark, black hair; shaved neatly on the sides, but slicked back by hair gel on top.