I stepped out of my hotel building I was staying in. I've been in Rome for a week already and so far, my adventures have been awesome. The Colosseum was fantastic, the brickwork and the arena. It felt like stepping into history. The St Peter's Basilica was fascinating, the arches, the detailed paintings. Fantastic.
I did plenty of sightseeing and today I was moving on. I pulled my sunglasses down over my dark green eyes and pulled back my brunette hair into a ponytail before fixing up my bag. I half ran down the hotel stairs, excited for my next adventure. I dreamt to travel Europe ever since I understood the concept of getting away and that was at a tender age alone, an age no kid should fantasize about leaving their family to escape their normal reality.
I didn't have to be at the next hotel till 5pm this evening and the day is so young, only hitting 7am. With a wide smile, I headed to the bus station, ready for the long drive to Moraro, near the border to Slovenia. That was my next stop, a good night's rest then more solo adventuring. Backpacking, hiking and rowing my way through Europe. I was into week five of my European experience and I have been loving every minute of it.
The bus ride was long and I didn't mind, I watched the scenery around me. I was a bit sad I didn't get to see Venice, but next time, hopefully. The bus ride was bearable but only because I took my tablet for motion sickness. Once that got into me, I was all good, being the stereotypical tourist, staring out the windows of the bus, taking in the views.
Making myself comfortable, the towns and cities I passed, the open fields and historic buildings, it was all amazing and the bus driver stopped every two hours for fifteen minutes as we stretched our legs, went to the toilets and grabbed a snack or two as we overloaded our cameras and smartphones with photos of ourselves and the landscapes before us.
But it was when the bus stopped just outside of Verona for lunch, my life changed forever.
There were a few shops around and like some of the other tourists, I wasn't the best on Italian. So, I didn't exactly listen to the bus driver. I heard snippets of what he said. So going to my English to Italian dictionary didn't help for translating, I looked up what I could, trying to remember what was said and find the words, but I came up with basically nothing. Groaning. I slipped my dictionary in my bag as I gripped at it, throwing it over my shoulder, heading to the shops nearby.
I checked myself over, making sure I had my phone in my pocket and pulled it out and opened the case to find my visa card. Content on that sight, I slipped my phone back in my pocket and then checked my passport was on me in my jacket pocket. I always make sure this is directly on me at all times. I was famished and wanted something to peck on and a water, stretching my legs as I walked, I saw the little store in front of me and quickened my pace.
After a few metres, I noticed I was the only tourist in my bus load heading this way and I was getting a sinking feeling. Biting the inside of my gum, I carried forward, heading into the small shop, looking around for a fridge. Anything that houses cold water. I took out a cold water and went to the shelves, finding food and deciding what I wanted when I heard voices. I couldn't understand a word that was being said but the tone sounded aggressive, the voice harsh and demanding.
Slowly going to the end of the aisle, I snuck a peek as two tall men looked at the shopkeeper. They were talking in Italian and I didn't even know where to start since they were talking so fast. I couldn't make sense when one word finished and the other begun. With wide eyes, I realised that I might be in the middle of a robbery as one of the men pulled out a gun, pointing it to the shopkeeper. I jumped back then froze. My body was telling me to run, but I didn't want to make a noise in fear of them hearing me and worse, seeing me.
"Angelo Ricci manda i suoi saluti." (Angelo Ricci sends his greetings.) Said one man with a thick voice.
The next thing I heard was a gunshot as I saw blood spray on to the back wall and I stepped away, screaming. I dropped the items in my hands, my scream filled the air and my eyes even wider.
Run Charlotte! I screamed at myself.
"Prendila!" (Get her!) A man shouted and without understanding him, I wasn't waiting to find out what it meant.
I quickly turned and ran. I didn't care what door I used, only the fact that it was the closest door to me, I took the handle and opened it, finding myself in a storage room. How perfect, I sarcastically yelled at myself as I went to another door then another before finding myself outside.
I ran as fast as I could, my bag bouncing on my back, my legs carrying me as fast as they could go. I was never a runner, even as a child. I made excuses although high school when it came to physical education. When I did have to run, which was rarer than a blue moon, my hands would be at my chest, but not this time. They were by my side as I bolted, scared for my life, terrified by what I just saw.
I heard gunshots behind me and it made me run even faster if possible, scared out of my mind. Another shot was fired and I screamed as the weight from my bag disappeared. I quickly looked behind me, the strap of my bag broken, the whole lot on the ground. I wasn't brave enough to get it as I saw the man behind me. Turning my head to in front of me, I looked to where the bus was, it couldn't have been much further.
"Crap." I muttered breathless as I ran to the bus. But the bus wasn't there, it was back on the road, leaving.
Without me.
"Wait!" I screamed as it kept going.
I felt pain in my chest and ribs, my legs were hurting and I did the only other thing I could think off. I headed to the town of Verona, which was still a distance in front of me. As soon as I could, I hid myself in with the close buildings, catching my breathe, wheezing as I placed my hands on my sides and leaned over. It hurt to breathe, I felt sick, the stabbing pains in my chest and sides were continuously still throbbing.
Once again, I patted myself down. My passport was in my pocket, with my phone that had my ID and cards and the only thing I needed in that bag was clothes. Pushing off the wall I found myself resting against, I started to head into the town, exhausted, I tried to find anywhere that had authority, police.
I finally found one and dragging myself in, I went to the front desk.
"Buon pomeriggio signorina, come posso aiutarti?" (Good afternoon miss, how can I help you?) The large man said to me.
I blinked at him, still winded from my sprint and slightly frustrated that I don't know the language. "English." I said as I pointed to myself. "Inglese." That I knew.
The man turned and yelled out something and someone else came towards us. A middle-aged man, a bit wide on the sides but not exactly fat and greying in his hair. He wasn't wearing the same uniform as the other man and I saw his gun and badge hanging off his belt.
"Do you need the interpreter?" He asked me in English and I heard the accent in his voice.
I nodded and sighed, pointing to behind me, to the door I entered from. "A crime, just out of town." I finally broke down to tears as I was led to a private room. I was finally able to let my body go into shock once I felt safe.
I spent hours in there, describing every little detail of what I saw, from what the two men looked like to me running and getting shot at. Over and over till it no longer affected me emotionally. My throat hurt from the screaming, running, the crying and the endless talking of repeating the same thing. Somewhere along the way, I was given coffee and unknowingly, I took it, thankful for it. I cradled the coffee cup in my hand as I answered the questions, as they got translated.
"Miss Pruitt, did they say anything you could understand?" Officer Moretti asked. He was the translator for me and he was so kind. He sat with me the whole time as another officer took notes while Moretti translated for us both.
"Uh, I don't know. They were talking so fast. I couldn't understand them." I stuttered as I rubbed my eyes. I tried so hard to remember any words I could recognise but it was all a blur.
"That's okay. That's fine." Officer Morreti assured me. "Were any names mentioned?"
I frowned at him. "Names?"
"Miss Pruitt, we are having some gang violence lately, turf wars. I believe you just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time." He said in his smooth and unbroken English, his Italian accent thick, but understandable. He was so patient with me.
Well, duh Charlotte, I thought to myself, it is his job.
"Maybe?" I answered thoughtfully. "Uh Andrew...? Angela? It started with an A."
I could see by the look in the man's eyes he knew, but he waited patiently for me as I thought about what happened in the shop. The men that held their guns, the shopkeeper that looked so scared, me peeking at what was happening.
"Any other names?" Moretti broke my train of thought as I looked back to him.
I nodded slowly.
"I'm pretty sure it's Angela. But there was another name. Richie."
Officer Morreti froze but yet not surprised. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly. "Angelo Ricci?" He asked me in an even thicker accent.
I gave out a small gasp in recognition. "Yes. That's it."
Angelo Ricci.
"Miss Pruitt, where are you from?" He asked me softly, sitting more comfortably, waiting for me to answer. "You are very fluent in English so an English based country, yes?"
I frowned at him. "I'm...on holidays. A gap year. Something that I earned myself. I just wanted to backpack through Europe." I told him, upset that things changed dramatically. "I didn't want to witness a murder. I'm only eighteen, my life has only just begun." Just when you thought you were free from the neglect of one reality, you find yourself in another, said the ugly voice in my head. I winced again, trying to ignore the voice. I won't end up like my mother. I squeezed my eyes shut so tightly; I could see stars as I took a deep breathe than another.
The images were still fresh in my mind. The hole the bullet made in that poor man's head. The blood splattering on the off-white wall behind him. How his eyes rolled back into his head.
I shuddered involuntarily. "Australia. I'm from Australia." I told Moretti. "Why would it make a difference? I witnessed a murder. Won't you be locking the culprits away? I nearly got shot!" I didn't want to die and I had become angry over it all, to those two thugs, trying to rob me from my own life. I didn't travel halfway across the world to be killed. If I wanted to die, I would have done the job myself back home.
"We will need to transfer you to the Australian Embassy in Rome." Officer Moretti said as he sighed, writing to notes. Then he turned to the mirrored window and let out a signal, telling them to stop recording.
"Why would I need to go to the Embassy? Can't I just do a statement and go on my way?"
"You have a higher chance of freedom at the Embassy. No one can touch you there as its Australian land." Officer Moretti struggled this time, trying to explain to me in English why this needed to happen. "Miss Pruitt, those two men were only lapdogs, his flunkies, thugs."
I looked at the man concerned and confused. "For what?" Please don't say what I think you mean, I said in my head.
"Angelo Ricci's thugs, they do the dirty work and he leaves no witnesses. You are the first to escape him, Miss Pruitt."
Officer Moretti slapped a photo on the table. I looked down to see a pixelated photo, slightly blurry if a man. His features weren't distinguished because of the quality but I could tell he had dark brown hair, a darkness around his chin suggesting stubble or even a short beard and he was tall and lean from that angle. The position of the man's body with his hand near his face suggested that he was on the phone. His clothes looked casual, blue pants, possibly jeans and a dark shirt with an unbuttoned white shirt open.
"That is Angelo Ricci. This is the latest photo of him on record and its four years old." Moretti pointed to the photo with his index finger with such force, I could see the finger bending unnaturally. "When this man finds out you slipped through their fingers, he will find you and he will kill you."
I gave out a nervous laugh, probably from hysteria. "What are you saying, Officer Moretti? That he is a kingpin?" I didn't want to believe it. "Those people aren't real. Only in books and movies and..." My voice faltered as I looked directly into the man's cold eyes.
Officer Moretti looked straight into my eyes; his face gone to stone. "Miss Pruitt, Angelo Ricci is the most dangerous man in Italy. The only reason we haven't locked him away is because we have no actual proof of his criminal activities, till now."
Oh, me.
"Angelo is the most feared man in Italy. Have you ever heard about Mafia's, Miss Pruitt?" My eyes widened even further as I gave a small nod of my head. Me and my big mouth. So much of those characters only existing on the silver screen and between pages of books.
"Angelo thinks he controls over 60% of Italy, from dirty cops, politicians, even having control on landowners and shop holders." He continued to tell me. "He is the Mafia."