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A welcome sign is hanging on the door as I pull the handle. The store smells like fruits, with a thick smell of freshly baked bread.
I dial Beatrice’s number as I stroll to the aisle of toiletries. She answers on the first ring.
“I’m here, Beatrice. Where are you? Are you okay?”
“Meet me by the electronics aisle.”
She ends the call abruptly again. I hasten my steps as I walk down the electronics aisle.
Beatrice is standing by a rack with a bleeding cut on her head. Her eyes are swollen from crying. She stares at me with her eyes widening, slowly shaking her head like she’s trying to tell me something.
“Beatrice,” I whisper, running to meet her.
“No, Adriana.”
I pull her into a hug, tearing up. She doesn’t hold me back with her arms fixed by her side.
Something’s wrong.
“Hello, Adriana,” a voice says behind me. A gun’s behind my head.
“I’m so sorry, Adriana. I’m so sorry. They made me do it.” Beatrice cries harder.
“Va tutto bene. (Everything is fine.)”
“You’ll have plenty of family time back at the warehouse. We’re all going to exit the store now. Do anything funny and I put a bullet through you.”
Another man casually dressed in faded blue jeans and a white singlet with an oversized shirt over it appears behind Beatrice.
“Turn around Adriana,” the man behind me says.
I let go of Beatrice and slowly turn around. His gun is pointed in front of me now. He has a crooked smile and a big nose, making him quite unattractive. His face is scarred with a burn mark on his cheek. His gray shirt has a masked head design imprinted on it.
“Clean your fucking tears and act normal. I won’t hesitate to shoot if you draw unnecessary attention to us,” he says to Beatrice. He gives her a minute before we start to move.
I can’t believe I got caught again. These assholes had to use my sister.
We walk out of the store with each man holding our arms.
Mendoza spots me as he is resting his back on the truck with his gaze fixed on the store’s doors. He hurriedly slips out his gun as he sees me, taking a shot at the man holding me.
The bullet meets his arm as he grunts a curse. He grips me tighter and slams me against the door of a blue Volkswagen Tiguan parked in front of the store.
Beatrice’s captor retaliates as he pulls out his gun and shoots back at Mendoza.
“Fuck! Enter the fucking car right now.” The man holding my arm yells at me. His arm is bleeding out.
Beatrice is screaming as shots are being fired. One meets Mendoza on his shoulder, giving the men enough time to force us into the car. They zoom off in a hurry as Mendoza begins to shoot at us again.
But it’s too late, as we take a turn and Mendoza is out of sight. Worse, I don’t have a fucking idea where they are taking us.
Fuck.
The warehouse is dark and cold as we walk into it. With our hands tied behind us, they push us into the room. Someone flicks the light switch on. The cemented floor is dusty, with dirt scattered on it. I can hear the squeaking noises around me.
“Who the fuck are you?” I grunt. The man in the gray shirt pushes me further into the room.
“None of your fucking business, Princess.”
