Ruthless A Don's Story

Is This The End?

Finally, the car stopped, hitting the brakes hard, and we all fell forward. Why the sudden stop? I wondered; I was perplexed and worried like I was really scared now. "Let her suffer," I heard Antonio's voice say, and the door opened. I was shoved out, no, I was kicked out, and the door was slammed on my face, hitting the ground hard, I landed face first on what felt like a gravel pit, it was harder than that, I bruised my knee, my knee fell on something rough which I later found out to be some stones, mysteriously placed there, my face was saved by the sack that covered it thankfully, I heard the car zoom away as I stayed quietly, I lay motionless, I didn't know what to do, my legs were injured, I could feel blood dripping out, it was warm and sticky, my thighs were full of blood but I felt enough energy to be able to stand, I rolled on the gravel pit, it was hell, The pain was unbearable as I asked myself why I had to go through all this, my life was taking an unexplainably twist like a tragedy I never heard about, each turn only added more pain, pains stabbing me from ever part of my being and the only thing surviving was my will power. I could feel each piece of rock stab my soft flesh; the misery was nothing short of first-class; the first day I suffered this much, how would the rest of my life be? I rolled until I felt a solid rock; using it as support, I inched my way up, slowly like a worm. I had an idea, and I shook my head so violently in an attempt to make the sack fall off. An attempt that proved a failure, I was in the middle of nowhere, covered, bloody, and injured, I was sure it was the end, I fell back down to the ground and started sobbing, sobbing had always been my last retreat, I was never one to cry but this situation was beyond me, I was going insane and to top it up, the cold started taking over, Everything went numb, I have tied hands behind my back, the air was getting thin, I was suffering, I couldn't breath properly, was I going to die? I never thought much about my death, but I knew I wanted to die peacefully, not in a horrible place where the only thing I could recognize were cheap friends of my father and worthless hooligans.

The question I asked myself was "Why me?"

Of all the people why does it have to be me, the answer didn't come and it probably won't so I asked someone else instead

"God, if you are real and there's a possibility that you can save me, what are you waiting for? am dying and you are probably up there making a mockery of my problems, you created us, but this night alone I lost everything I loved, every single thing, everyone I ever knew, if I die it's in your hands, I was dying faster than this, thoughts were gathering in my head, thoughts of death, doom, misery was killing me faster than any man could, the trauma was like a deep traumatic tunnel, one that I might never be able to get out of even if I was just dreaming, I didn't feel anything again, even in my inside I could feel absolutely nothing, it was like as if my soul died and wickedness or was it bitterness sprouting like a freshly grown plant, I didn't feel anything until I woke up the next day in a dimly lit room. I was wearing a nightgown, and my clothes from the night before were laid out on a wooden chair next to the bed. They were torn, dirty, and bloody. My head ached, I had a swollen lip, the pain! and a bandage covered my rib cage. I tried getting up but fell flat down; my legs betrayed me. I lay in extreme pain. Not only that, but I was in so much pain, from the cold last night, and I was out there for God knows how long, but now I was in a different environment, I was in a room, and I couldn't see much really, but I had been saved, I was sure of that.

The door creaked open, and I lifted my head to see a figure standing in the doorway. He was a middle-aged man with gray hair and a beard. Well-built and quite tall, I was shocked, but I couldn't rave; my body had become numb. He held a white bowl in his hand and walked towards me with slow, heavy steps. He helped me up, placed me back on the bed, and took an ointment from a drawer. Furthermore, he motioned for me to turn my back. I was terrified. I didn't know this man, but since he helped me, I had to do it, which I did. Likewise, he started rubbing the ointment on my skin.

“Feeling better?” he asked in a low, deep voice.

“Yes.”

“That's good. But I guess your busy is still quite in pain, You were pretty banged up last night.”

“What exactly happened?” I asked, trying to remember.

“I found you lying on the road, out cold, at three in the morning. Mind telling me how you got there?”

His words reminded me of what happened the night before, how I lost everything in one night. I didn't answer, and he didn't press me. He understood.

“My name is Hank, and you're in my house”

“

“Oh,” I said, I didn't know what to make for the US new information. But I said thank you, sir! what else could I've said when my parents were killed by freaking men when I was brought to a weird house and almost killed by cold and probably mosquitoes because I was kicked out of the room for no reason.

“It's nothing,” He said, standing up to leave the room. Besides, I needed some quietness to think deeply because my life was a mess right now, and I also needed to sleep I gave a loud yawn, which wasn't meant to disrespect him, though.

“I'll leave you to rest now,” he said and made his way out.

As soon as he left, I got my legs on the bed, covered myself up, and soon drifted back to sleep.

I slept most of the time, Hank and I got along quite nicely, he would always bring my food up while I was healing

It took two weeks before I was able to walk again, Hank said the fall had hurt my kneecap cap, and me dragging myself that night only worsened it, but I was finally better and probably able to walk the living corpse out of me now. One morning Hank pipped inside my room and said, "Be downstairs in five minutes for breakfast,” he said and left the room. I was left to my thoughts, grateful for this kind stranger, but why the help? I didn't understand that part, and I also had my reservations.

Feeling a bit stronger and sure my legs wouldn't fall, I made my way out of the room, it would be the first time I left the room.

I was happy, though I wasn't a great fan of nature; it felt good to breathe the outside air and think.

When I got here, as soon as I stepped out of the room the first thing I saw was a faded rug on the stairway way, the red color had turned dull, I saw coffee stains in some parts, and was torn in some other places. one foot before another, I walked downstairs, on the wall were pictures of Hank, in some he held a big axe, others he took with a woman, the woman was quite strange I stayed here for two weeks and never saw a woman, surely she would have come to see me, further down the stairs was the living room, it had a collection of guns, on the fireplace. The rug extended towards the living room, and a coffee table sat, in between the Sofas, one on the right and one on the left. Black-looking Sofa, their color calling to me. In front of all this was the fireplace. The ceiling was wooden, it had a little Cross-like design that I loved. The house was cozy, not too big, not too small, and very Zen.