eight(part one)
561 Words
Alessandro POV
IT DIDN'T TAKE long. The police radio was buzzing with reports of noise disturbance from Turnip Valley blvd and Seventh.
I followed it, figured it was worth checking out.
I drive there, keeping an imprint of the face I'm looking for.
I called one of my contacts, and he provided a name.
Angelita Gomez-Santos.
I know a bit about her, but my guy couldn't find much. She has a daughter, Seraphina Gomez-Santos, father left blank on the birth certificate.
So either she doesn't know, she wished she didn't, or she doesn't want anyone else to.
I park the SUV out of sight, and walk up to the alley.
As my feet touch the pavement, a wave of terrified screams rushes over me.
I get closer, closer still.
I find her.
She's rocking back and forth on the ground, screaming and fighting someone who isn't there.
She has a gun, which is not good.
If I had to guess, I'd say she's in a PTSD blackout.
This is something that's hard to deal with, being that the person isn't all there and can snap at any moment.
I see why she dropped Seraphina off.
I step forward lightly, quietly, putting my hands up.
"Angelita?" I call out softly as I can.
Crazed violet eyes met mine sharply.
Saying nothing, she lifts the gun and points at me.
I figured this would happen.
"I know you don't know me, but Marco sent me here," her eyes clear slightly, until they cloud over again.
"He wanted me to make sure you were Okay."
"I'm okay," she says, her tone dead.
I fight not to roll my eyes.
"Well, Seraphina isn't. She needs you. Marco doesn't know how to take care of her,"
And just like that she's sober.
"Where is she? What happened to her? Is she alright."
This bout or clarity won't last long, but I'm not trying to snap her out of it. I just need to know what triggers her return to reality.
"She is fine," eyes start clouding agin.
"But Marco is very tired. Seraphina won't let let anyone else touch her, and he's exhausted. He has work to do, a company to run. He needs your help,"
Her eyes are conflicted, darting about as if to find an escape from her dilemma.
"Angela if—"
That when bullets ring out. As it happens, calling her Angela is apparently one of her major triggers.
I dodge bullets as best I can, but she has surprisingly good aim, so a few graze me, and one clips on the shoulder.
I hiss in pain, wincing at the amount blood flooding from the wound already.
"Merda, lei ha buona scopo." I murmur as another shot of pain bursts, exploding in my shoulder.
I beg off, retreating to the car. Using my good shoulder, reach for my phone.
"Call Marco." I order Siri.
"We have problems," I blurt as soon as the line connects.
"Quali problemi?"
(What problems?)
"Well, let's see: Your woman has excellent aim, and a full clip left. On that note, I'm losing a lotta blood. In other news, she is in a blackout,"
Glancing around, I check to if anyone entered the alley.
"Cosa vuoi che faccia?" He breathes.
(What do you want me to do?)
"Semplice. Prendi il tuo culo qui."
(Simple. Get your ass over here)
- Writer
