Obeying The Cruel Mafia

DISCOMBOBULATE.

CHAPTER FOUR.

AMBER KITCHEN.

•••••••••••••

My Mamá. . .my poor Mamá. Her soul was stolen from her by the three men who now laid dead on the floor. Since her death, I don't remember shedding a tear even though my heart was hurting with a thorn stinging at it every second. It felt like I was dying just by having to live with the fact that she was now dead all because of reasons I wasn't aware of. I wished the three men had killed me when they killed my mother, because really, I did not see a purpose for me in life. I had no mother nor father. No family. I was all alone in the massive blue globe.

The click-clack sound brought me out of my thoughts and I raised my head up to look into the eyes of the man who had been the terror of the night. His gun was pointed at me and for some reason I wasn't scared. I was meant to be, but I wasn't. My whole body was numb. Emotions, I couldn't feel at that moment. The person who had been my driving force to keep on living was now dead. I had nothing. Nothing to live for.

I kept on staring at the man at my front and it felt like a year passed by as I did so with only a question running through my mind; What was it like to take one's life? To gouge out one's eyeballs without even showing an ounce of sympathy? Throughout my years on Earth, I had heard people talk about others who were ruthless and unmerciful. People who killed humans like they were merely swatting a fly.

It surprised and saddened me, really, to know people took others' lives.

However, the man at my front. The man I could have almost sworn I'd fallen for at first sight when he stepped into the diner I worked in was right at my front, with a gun to my head after he placed the eyeballs of a certain Acosta into a beanie. He didn't even seem repentant or remorseful for all that he had done. Right at my front, he had single handedly taken out five people, including the woman that was laying naked on the bed.

Maybe Mamá was right. No, Mamá was right! Bad boys were indeed demons in leather jackets and it was wrong of me to have thought otherwise, thinking maybe they could be justified.

I wanted to open my mouth. To tell him to kill me but my words were held back when I remembered Mamá's last words to me, “. . .I want you to live.” Those words. Those five words kept replaying, resonating, resounding through my head. It was almost surreal and I could have sworn I felt air against my earlobes as those words repeated. It was as though my mother was invicibly at my front, whispering those words to me again. That was what it took for me to find my emotions, just like adrenaline, I felt a rush of fear course through my whole body as I began to plead for my life from the hands of terror.

I pleaded for my life and even bursted out crying when he didn't seem to listen to me. Eventually he squatted down at my front and said, "You're a witness, signora," his voice was still calm and beautiful to the ear, and his Italian accent was thicker. "I can't just let you go. What do you think I should do then?"

My tears stopped running but I couldn't stop myself from hiccupping. I studied him for a moment and noticed he wasn't wearing any studs or earrings on his piercings, even his tattoos were fully covered. My lips paused momentarily and I dithered on his question. I had no answers, so I replied calmly, choosing the best response my mind could come up with at that moment. "I will do anything. Just name it, what do you want me to do? Say it."

A teasing smile made its way to his face as he asked, bringing out his gun. "You mean anything?"

"Yes, anything. You just name it."

"Even if I want you to be my Cazzo amico?"

He spoke in Italian and I didn't understand the language. The only language I understood apart from English was spanish. I decided to nod in response to whatever his request was. "Yes." I agreed.

A loud bang went off suddenly and I could have sworn I saw my life flash before my eyes. He'd been the one to shoot the gun, but it wasn't aimed at me. It was aimed towards the bed. My body trembled as I slowly took my head to the direction of the bed and saw where, or who, he had shot at. It was the naked lady. The one I assumed had been his first kill when he stepped foot into the room.

"Guess she needed a second bullet," he said, placing his gun back into his holster. "I saw her hands twitching. Sign of life."

He moved to my back and without making contact with my skin he yanked off the dutch tape that once held my hands together. My hands were finally in liberation and I wriggled them to relieve my muscles that might have gotten cramped. I stood up with the support of the sofa next to me, unbeknownst to me on what to do next.

"What's your name?" He asked from behind.

I turned and snapped my head towards him. Then I took a step back, seeing how close we were and the splatters of blood on his face disgusted me. It almost made me puke. We were Just two foot apart but I made it five meters. My eyes were set on him, studying and assimilating everything about him like he was some script I needed to memorize. He was the same man that visited our diner and yet, standing at my front, with me witnessing everything he did tonight, he looked different. More cruel, built, gruesome, more dangerous. . . dangerously handsome, and his eyes were emotionless. Like that of a robot. My instinct was right. He was someone I really needed to stay away from.

He inched closer towards me, black eyes narrowing me on me like I was some prey. I could have been. "I asked for your name, didn't I?"

I played with a loose thread of my sweatshirt. "I. . .I am Amber."

His brow quivered, a hand went back into his holster, holding the edge of his gun. I was tense. My palms became itchy. Was he going to shoot me after I gave him my name? "Amber what?" He asked, calmly. His voice was still calm.

I hesitated for a bit before giving him my full name. "Amber kitchen."

His hand went away from his gun and I heaved heavily in relief. He placed his hands on his waist akimbo style, paced around the pile of dead bodies and when he eventually stopped pacing, he stared at me, "I don't know what to do with you," he said, moving closer to me. "But one thing I do know is that we need to get the hell out of here before the cops start approaching."

It was like a zoom. It happened in a flash when he carried me and threw me over his shoulder like I was some weightless rag doll. I didn't even have the chance to oppose, not like I was going to anyway. For all I knew, he was the one in charge of my life at the moment taking me to only God knows where.

He took his beanie — which housed the eyes of the man who he killed last, and knife, and we were outside of the house in an instant, into the darkness of the night. Before I knew it, I found myself being thrown against hard leather. It was the leather of a car chair. "Just stay in here, I'll be back," he ordered. His tone held much dominance and if it wasn't for my current state I would have melted on hearing him speak. "Don't do anything foolish. I mean it. I wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger if you do."

He threw his beanie and knife to the back of his car before jamming the door shut, leaving me and my thoughts alone in the confinement of his car. I looked out through the window and saw him talking to someone else outside. I removed my gaze from him and willed myself not to think about the events that had occurred throughout the last few hours. I didn't want to relive those hours. Especially the one that had to do with my Mamá death and the killings.

Thinking about my Mamá death made me depressed. It made tears pile up in my eyes. I wanted to let it all out, but I just couldn't. I felt some kind of restraint holding me back from doing so.

Through my teary vision I saw the ignition button of the car and I felt a swell of hope rise within me as I thought of escaping to a nearby police station to report the incident of the evening. I used the back of my palm to wipe the tears away from my eyes before taking a glance out of the window, and when I saw that he was still engrossed in his conversation I moved over to the driver's seat.

I settled into the seat, used the seat belt and without much consideration, I turned on the ignition button and the car roared to life. From the corner of my eyes I saw the roaring of the car had gotten his attention, however, what scared me was the fact that he didn't look a bit fazed by the fact that I was planning to escape in his ride. Instead, he smiled. A crooked smile. He crossed his arms across his chest and nudged his head towards me as though he was daring me. Challenging me. The second person next to him had an alarmed expression.

I changed gears, trying to act nonchalant about his cryptic gaze on me. I needed to escape. To set myself free from his brewing bondage. I stepped on the accelerator, and at the same time, I began to hear gunshots. And they were fired towards the car.

It was at that moment I knew I was done for because this wasn't fast and furious, it was real life.

My life.

•

•