Chapter- Eight

My mind was racing with various thoughts. I couldn't seem to control what I was thinking and what made it worse was that Vitale was trailing behind me. With a gun. Pointed at me. At my fore-damn-head.

He always made everything worse, if not worst.

My eyes studied my surroundings. Everything around me screamed rich. The chandelier above. The floor. The ceiling. The walls.

The walls were painted a brownish golden colour. I know it seems gross but it looked beautiful in it. It felt like the walls had a covering of gold and wood. On each side of the door there was flower pot and a painting hung beside it.

Then I studied the people nearby me. No one seem to acknowledge me or the fact that there was a gun pressed at my forehead. People passed by without even a second glance.

It probably happens everyday, I thought sarcastically, Vitale surely shows off his gun to everyone.

The saddest thing was that every single person that passed by me worked for Vitale and they definitely did not give a damn about me.

They do not want to die by going against this man but would definitely let someone else die. It was selfish but that is how human being are. Selfish.

But little selfishness is needed to survive in this world. I do not mind. I would rather die than someone else who surely have a family.

But still it was pathetic. I mean, I was in a five star hotel but was still unable to get help. How pathetic that can be?

Undescribely, if that was a word, pathetic!

"If you are thinking about someone helping you," he started with a wicked voice. Everything about him was wicked anyways, "then babe get that thought out of your head. This floor is reserved only for workers- workers who work for me. So I suggest not to run your head." He explained in a tone that was downright evil.

"I am not running my head," I mumbled, not caring if he had heard me or not.

"You sure are not."

I was not scared of Vitale like was as a few days ago. Yes, the fear was still there but it did not wholly consumed me.

If he had the intention of killing me, he would have done it already. He was not the type of person to Procrastinate a thing.

I had noticed that he kills people without thinking. Just take out the gun and Boom, the person was dead. I wonder if he ever regretted his decision of killing someone. Life was not a game and once an action was done it could not be rewind. And that is what it is necessary to think before acting.

But for Vitale, he first acts and then thinks where on earth to hide the dead body.

He probably dumbs it on the pacific ocean.

Suddenly, Vitale came to an halt and since his hand was on my waist, I came flying backwards to him like an rubber band and for second time my back was pressed against him but this time a little too tightly.

May God bless his soul, but I highly doubt God will. May Satan bless his soul for having a toned stomach that could be felt even when he was wearing a shirt.

He should have a six pack and that was enough for me to want him to suddenly open his shirt. I had never seen abs. I mean I had in television, pictures but in real life. No.

I know my life is pathetic.

"Open the door." Vitale ordered, referring to the door that was on my left side. His voice was smooth to my ear and I wondered if his anger had calm down.

I immediately obeyed him and opened the door that read 69. I turned the doorknob and pushed open the door.

And the first I saw was a male, half naked and only a towel wrapped lowly around his torso and then I noticed his platinum hair.

I let out a shriek and and in impulse I turned around and pressed my head against Vitale's chest.


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