Page 326 of Marcello

He began to run. As he did, he called out again, “There you aaaaare!”

There was nothing I could do – my back was against another stone wall, with nowhere to go.

Suddenly, he was standing above me.

I smelled him before I saw him – that sweet, rank stench mixed with sweat and oniony body odor. It made me want to vomit.

Then I saw him in the light of the flashlight, and was even more terrified.

He had a bony, rat-like face – thin arms – shaved head – a sweat-stained wifebeater –

And tattoos all over his bare arms, hands, and neck. Ugly black ones: spiders, scorpions, skulls, guns.

When he looked down at me, his eyes were disturbingly vacant – like something was mentally wrong with him.

Then he reached down and grabbed my left wrist.

“Come on,” he giggled. “Let’s go have some fun.”

I tried to fight back, but he was surprisingly strong for such a thin man.

He dragged me kicking and screaming down the tunnel. He giggled the entire way and said things like, “Maybe I’ll clean you up… or maybe not… I don’t want to share… no, I’m not going to share…”

He carried his flashlight in his left hand, so he could only hold onto me with his right. Every so often I would twist out of his grip, but he would catch me again – occasionally hitting me with his fist before grabbing my wrist again.

“Stop it, you bitch! Stop it!”

When we got to the wall, he pulled me to my feet and dragged me through the hole. The jagged rocks scraped my skin, but he was too strong to resist.

Then we were through.

He started to pull me towards the splintered hole in the wood. We were only a hundred feet away from it.

I knew that once I was through it, I would be surrounded by Camorra.

They had killed my entire family. There was no telling what they would do to me.

“Come on… come on, you bitch…” the thug muttered.

“ROMEO!” I screamed. “HELP ME!”

As soon as I called his name, I remembered something:

The red cornicello he had given me. The knickknack’s metal keyring was still looped around my middle finger.

I had let go of the good luck charm as I struggled against my attacker, but now I could feel it tapping against my palm as it swung back and forth.

I had forgotten I still had it… and that it was sharp.

I slipped the ring off my finger, then grabbed the cornicello between my thumb and forefinger like a weapon.

At the sound of Romeo’s name, the skinny bastard turned around to look at me.

“What?!” he snarled. “What did you say?! I’m not sharing with him – I’m not sharing with anybody!”

I could see the thug’s beady eyes glaring at me in the light from his flashlight.

And now that I could see them… I had a target.