A black, heavy cloud hung low above the man's bowed head, the skin between his eyebrows tight with concentration, and frustration.
His large hand gripped the pen gently yet he wrote on the white lined paper aggressively, as if he was mad at it.
On...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Blinding lights were the first thing I felt on my skin when I came to. It almost felt so hot that is was blistering my skin. My body was on fire, my mouth tasted like nothing but blood.
My head was a heavy cloud of smoke as my head drooped forward. I couldn't hold myself up. I wheeze as I inhaled, my broken side throbbing with every breath I took.
"Ay, he's awake,"
Irish accents sputtered in conversation jot too far from me. I groaned again, my shoulders aching, my wrists tied behind my back with zip ties that were cutting into my skin.
Suddenly, my head was roughly tucked upwards by my hair and a punch whipped my head back and to the side.
I coughed up blood, leaning forward as I squeezed my eyes shut. My head was getting worse, my entire body was shaking as I broke out in cold sweats.
I gasped when another punch whipped me back, breaking my nose further if that was even possible.
"Open ye eyes, fucker."
"Suck my dick," I said between gasps for air, almost regretting it when a fist connected with my abdomen.
"Open ye eyes before I cut away your eyelids,"
I obeyed, simply because his grating voice was annoying the fuck out of me. I peeled my eyes open, and instantly regretted it when the white light felt like it was scorching my fucking eyes.
I blinked to get used to the light but it was futile when the blur didn't go away. I gazed up at the man before me, and he licked his lips and smiled.
"Ay, there it is," he pointed at my eyes, his finger tip almost touching my pupil, "there's the devil in ya'. Was hopin' I'd see Him today,"
Rage consumed my being as I looked at him. This was the man who beat the fuck out of me in front of my buildings. Shot both of my men who were with me.
"You will be dead before the day is over," I swore, and barely felt the punch that landed on my cheekbone.
"Micheal, stop," Another Irish asshole said, and the man before me stepped away.
And I recognized the voice. I recognized it immediately. It was him. The fucking politician. I could've sworn I was having a heart attack from anger.
My eyes snapped to Ronald as he walked into the room, dressed in a navy suit and his hair slicked back. I looked down at my own suit, torn and bloody and fucked. That made the the angriest.
"Lucifer," he said, and my left eye twitched.
He pulled a nearby chair in front of me, and sat with his leg crossed above the other. He cleared his throat, and put his hands on top of his thighs.
"Now, I'm going to skip the pleasantries and tell you why exactly you're in the position you're in now."
"You took my niece. You took her out of our home and you kidnapped her and now you're refusing to give her back, even after I have politely asked you to do so, and ensured that I will break every bone in your body if you refuse to do so — which I have done now,"
He sat forward in his chair now, uncomfortably close to me,"When I let you go, you will give her back to me. No questions fucking asked. Or this will happen. Again and again and again. With you and every member of your family,"
My nostrils flared as heat traveled all over my body from anger. I wanted to break him apart. Skin him alive. Burn him to the ground. I wanted to kill him in the worst ways possible for even thinking of threatening my family.
Wordlessly, he rose from his chair and motioned to his men.
Who then beat the fuck out of me again.
x X x
I awoke in the middle of London. In front of my building. It was pissing down rain, and I wondered if it was God washing away my sins, because I was sure I was dying as I sat there.
I saw my car parked a few feet away and shakily, I rose to my feet and clumsily walked to my car, holding my side as I spat blood out every five seconds.
Before I got into my car though, I had to throw up all the blood I had been swallowing for the last forty eight hours.
Tiredness had me in its grasp. It would not let me go. I lit a cigarette as I drove to the only place I knew I could go now. Through bleary eyes, I rolled down the streets. Cigarette smoke and wet clothes and the putrid smell of blood.
I parked terribly in front of the apartment building and felt my will to live drop with every passing second as I walked into the building.
And with my luck, the elevator was out of order.
And now I had to climb four flights of stairs.
Once I reached the top, I fell. My legs failed to carry me any further. Blood dripped passed my parted lips onto the tiled floor, my vision turning black the longer I stared at the puddle of crimson below me.
I lifted my head towards the door, and then my hand. I knocked once, terribly and waited for the door to swing open.
I rolled onto my back, heaving and groaning for air as I looked up at the ceiling, slowly losing what little energy I had left.
Was this the end?
Was this really how I was going to die?
"Cazzo!" a whirlwind of long dark brown hair filled my vision before striking green eyes replaced the hair, "you dumb fucker," the slightly raspy voice swore.
I took her arm, and she paused, and looked at me, "Take me to the hospital, Bianca. And tell them I have a fractured skull, broken ribs and I think I might have hemorrhaged,"
She looked down at me, "Per l'amor di Dio, cugino. In cosa ti sei cacciato ora?"
