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“Where’s the fun in that?” I snatched my face from his grasp, and I could tell he was about ready to break my cheekbone. “Go on, do it, I know you want to.” I carried on provoking him and I didn’t know why but I guessed it was to show I wasn’t to be messed with like they expected. “Ah, poor baby, aren’t you allowed to?” I pouted as I tried to stifle the laughter I was holding in.
“Fuck you, bitch!” His hand whipped through the air before I had time to take my next breath as the back of it collided with my cheek and instantly the metallic taste of my blood filled my mouth.
Showing him my blood-covered teeth, I let out a maniacal laugh. I could see his face redden with anger behind his balaclava, and I thrived off it.
“Is that all you’ve got; my grandmother hits harder.” I spat a mixture of blood and saliva on the ribbed material of his mask. “Pussy.”
“You’re just like your father! You fucking cunt!”
He knew my father?!
That was a clue but then again, my father knew many people.
“Get the fuck out! What did the boss say?! Not to harm a hair on her head!” Brute two appeared in the doorway and although I couldn’t see his expression, I knew he was angry. “Leave her alone and get out, go and calm down before you get yourself killed!” he snapped, his patience wearing thin.
“She provoked me!” Brute one argued with brute two, and honestly, this was entertainment at its finest.
“I don’t give a flying fuck who provoked who. Just leave!” Brute one skulked off muttering something under his breath.
“Why can’t you just do as you’re told, it would make this easier!” His face was now inches away from mine and I noticed something I hadn’t before. His eyes, they were a near enough black with a hint of violet and I knew I’d seen them before; I just couldn’t work out where.
“I don’t want to make this easier. I want to go home, you uneducated prick!”
“You won’t be going home. Boss has plans for you, ones he’s planned for a good while and it’s been our pleasure to help.” He laughed in my face, and I was fucking done being a pushover.
I reared my head back and slammed it into what I guessed was his nose and judging by his piercing screams, I’d hit him in the correct spot. Without thinking, he ripped off his balaclava that he’d been wearing on each visit, and for the first time, I saw his face, and although it was pouring with blood, it was familiar. I racked my brain to work out where I’d seen him before, but it went blank.
“What the fuck is going on in here?!” Oh, how wonderful. Brute number three arrived. How many were there?
“Go and fix up your face,” he snapped.
“He’ll need more than a wet wipe and a bandage to fix that.” I laughed as brute number two ran back at me, only to be stopped by brute three.
As I said, entertainment at its finest. Some would say comedy gold.
“OUT!” he roared as he shoved brute two out the door, before he slammed it shut.
“Fucking behave yourself!” he snapped, and I was beyond bored.
“Behaving is overrated, don’t you think?” I teased as he pulled out his phone. “Better call in the incidents to your boss like a good little boy.”
The room remained silent for a moment until I heard the muffled sounds from the other end of the phone. He had the volume turned down and pressed firmly to his ear, so it was hard to listen.
“Boss, I just thought I’d let you know that we have one broken nose, courtesy of this woman of yours.” He sighed.
“I’m not his fucking woman! I’d rather burn in hell than belong to another man!” I pulled at the chain that dug into my wrist, swelling formed beneath the bruises, but I didn’t feel the pain anymore, I was numb to it.
“She’s fine, yes, except she’s spitting blood right now.” And as if on cue, I heard the raised voice on the other end but still couldn’t work out who it was. “Boss, she provoked Ilya. He backhanded her across the right side of her face.” I knew then that Ilya was a goner; that prick deserved it anyway.
The rest of the conversation was carried on outside the door, with it still open slightly.
I kicked the metal bowl with the remnants of porridge in across the floor which earned a warning look from brute three through the crack in the door. I looked around the sparse room they’d locked me in. Four plain walls with a barred window up high enough for me not to see through but at least I could tell whether it was day or night. A dingy metal bed shoved in the corner with a blanket that just about covered my barely clothed body and a piss bucket close enough for me to reach if needed.
Some evenings when I laid back, I saw the tip of the moon and I wondered if Lorenzo was looking at it too, if we were feeling the same way, if he even made it out of that car alive. I didn’t even know how long it was until someone found him or if he’d been found.
I used to love falling asleep, but now I dreaded it. I dreaded hearing the sound I never knew I was capable of making until that fateful night. I dreaded feeling Lorenzo’s arm press my body into the seat, putting himself at risk. I dreaded reliving the moment I was stolen from the one man I love, the one man I worried I’d never see again. I may have put on a front when the brutes visited but deep down, I was broken, I was crumbling, I was empty. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry, they didn’t deserve it, they didn’t deserve my tears, nobody did.
“Would you like some more food since the last lot didn’t exactly end up in your mouth.” I saw the eye roll as plain as day from the door.
