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I try to scream but the hand is pressed so tightly to my lips that the sound is muffled. I gag on my assailant’s skin as an arm wraps around my chest, followed by a prick on my arm.
I can hardly breathe as the hand presses tighter still on my mouth. Panic floods every fiber of my being, and I can’t think past that fact that something was injected into me.
It’s not like in the movies; I don’t feel an immediate sensation. I start to thrash, my foot easily sinking through the drywall in this cramped space. The assailant grips me tighter, my boobs squeezing together from his stronghold. Between his chunky fingers partially covering my nostrils and my panic, air is getting harder to properly breathe in.
But I’m distracted by what is now visible through the hole I kicked into the wall.
Cash.
Stacks and stacks of cash.
It must start at the floor because all I see is wads of it in chunks separated by sleeves. I try to make out the familiar smell of it.
Why would there be…
My thoughts grow hazy from the lack of oxygen, and that’s when the drug hits. My legs stop moving, suddenly weak. There’s a tiny voice in the back of my brain screaming at me to stay alert, but I can’t. I should be fighting to keep my eyes open, but I can’t muster the energy to put on my boxing gloves. It takes too long to register that I’m being dragged.
And then
Chapter Twelve
April 30th - Lorenzo
Ipeelmysweatyshirt from my body and toss it to the side before plopping onto the patio sofa. Santi joins me a few minutes later, passing me a cold beer. We got into this nightly routine of sitting in companionable silence after our workouts when he insisted that I couldn’t stay holed up in my room.
So, every night, I stare at the moon while he scrolls on his phone. My peculiar interest in the lunar body led me to learn the identification of all its phases. It’s nearly full tonight—a waxing gibbous moon. Apparently, the moon is slowly moving away from Earth, its gravitational influence on us lessening with each centimeter it distances itself.
I suppose I’m not much different from our planet. Here I am, in the same position I’ve always been in. And the only person who ever made any of it worth it was never really mine, always slowly moving away.
I’m torn from my thoughts when one of my phones rings in my pocket. I pull it out,Marcoflashing across the screen. Santi gives me a curious look as I answer it.
“Hello?”
“Son, how are you?”
Son.
That’s all I’ve ever been. The means to an end. A pawn in his game. A tool he can use.
“Good,” I reply curtly. I typically hold more tolerance for the old man, but I’ve been strangely on edge today. I’ve felt a sense of impending doom, chalking it up to the extended time without my princess.
My eyes lock with Santi and he gives me a silent warning, one only I could read. His expression is neutral and no one would ever know. But we’re close enough to know what the other is thinking without ever really having to say it.
“Aren’t you going to ask how I am?” Marco’s words have me sitting a little straighter. He only ever says shit like that when he’s got something he wants to share.
“How are you?” I force myself to sound interested.
“We got 'em.”
“Who?” Santi pipes up from beside me.
“The rat, Santi,” he replies jubilantly. Santi and I share a look.
“Oh, shit,” I say, clearing my throat. “Who was it?”
“The recent transfer, Katherine Appleton.”
No…
