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Nothing.
I carefully twist the doorknob and pull gently.
Locked.
Of course it is. What did I expect? That whoever took me against my will would leave the door open for me to walk out?!
Strangely, part of me is relieved I don’t have to act right now in my befuddled state. I gingerly make my way back to bed.
Bed?
No, anyone could come in while I’m asleep. The bathroom… I’ll sleep in there and lock the door. Yes, I’ll do that.
I strip the bedding and drag it to the bathroom. The bathtub is long, and I fill it with the soft blankets.
I close the door gently and hear a solid click. Climbing into the bathtub, my eyes fall closed as I struggle with the drug-induced fog.
I’m drifting off to sleep, but my mind is spinning.
I wonder if I’m being watched.
The creepy feeling I had in Syracuse Cathedral slithers up my spine, sending shivers through my body.
Suddenly images flash before my eyes as if on rapid shoot.
Me sitting in the pew… people looking at statues… side profile of a guy nodding at another man a few feet away before disappearing into the shadows… that man… Tiero… café… cannelloni… that man… the man on the phone… watching… always watching… car racing toward Tiero… Tiero… hazel-brown eyes… love... my heart stopping… I love him.
Tiero, where are you? I need you. Please help me.
PLEASE.
Then darkness… and quiet as I drift into a restless sleep.
Chapter Two
Ella
There’sathumpingsoundsomewhere off in the distance that barely registers in my psyche.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I open my heavy eyelids slowly. God, I’m still so tired.
I glance around. Nothing looks familiar.
It takes me a moment to remember where I am… then again, I have no idea where I am, other than in someone’s bathroom.
This is a nightmare! Please let me wake up from it.
The knocking begins again. Then I hear the handle turn, the door opens, and a girl who looks about eighteen or nineteen enters.
Great Ella! You didn’t lock the door.
The girl is slender with typical Italian olive skin. Her long, dark hair is pulled back into a high ponytail. She wears some sort of maid’s uniform, a conservative short sleeve dress in olive green that reaches her calves. Tennis shoes in the same color complete the outfit.
She carries a heavy-looking tray, which she places on top of the vanity.
I can clearly see her face. That’s careless, surely. Unless whoever is keeping me here has no intention of me ever leaving… alive.
