4. Chapter
1022 Words
Lorena
The cold shivers run down my spine because of this man, but I can’t let him see how much he frightens me. Over the years you learn that fear is weakness, and I sure as hell am not weak. I’ve lived through worse and worse things — I’m not going to break now. No matter how terrifying this guy is. I don’t know who he could be, I’ve never seen him before, but that means nothing. I don’t think we move in the same circles. I don’t even know his name.
The question slips from my lips before I can stop it.
“Who are you?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
Irrelevant? No way!
“If you want this conversation to continue, you’re going to tell me your name.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, as if he wants to smile but doesn’t dare, or can’t. This man is getting stranger by the second. He’s dressed in black from head to toe. Not all the lights are on in the shop, so it’s half-dark, but I can still see his face — strong, defined features. A shadow of stubble covers his jaw, his mouth is narrow and red. His hair is short, dark. But his eyes are the most disturbing. Not the color — there’s just no life in them. They say the eyes are the mirrors of the soul. Well, this man has no soul. I’m certain of it. Darkness pours out of him.
He still hasn’t told me his name, he does nothing, just watches. As if he’s studying me. He won’t get far — I have my own share of burdens. I know exactly how to hide myself from others. Whatever game he’s playing, I’ve had enough.
I stand up — or at least I try — but I barely even notice that he’s moved before he grabs my wrist. Fast. Very fast.
“I said stay seated.”
“And I said tell me your name. Something for something.”
“Little girl, you don’t make the rules here. I could slit your throat before you even blink.”
I won’t say his words don’t scare me, but if I show my fear, he wins.
“I told you not to call me that!” I snap.
He tilts his head and keeps staring. He looks me over slowly.
“You know what? Go ahead. Kill me. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
Maybe that was too much. I didn’t think this through. What if he actually does it? Not like many people would miss me.
He moves, and I take a step back. My body trembles at the motion, and he notices. s**t.
He pulls out a knife. Spins it in his hand.
“So? Should I do it? You want to die, little girl?”
Why does he keep calling me that? And of course I don’t want to die, but I’ve had enough of this playing around. I decide not to answer his question.
“Just tell me what you want from me!”
He raises an eyebrow at my outburst.
“Sit down and I’ll tell you.”
I do what he says. If that’s what it takes to finally find out what he wants.
He sits too, but he still holds the knife.
“Your father owes us. I came to collect.”
Well, he’s going to have a hard time.
“Good luck with that. My father is dead.”
He leans forward a little and looks into my eyes.
“I’m aware. That’s why I came to see you.” He gestures toward me.
“Me? What do I have to do with this? And who exactly does he owe?”
I don’t understand any of this.
“A debt must be paid. That’s how it works. The Cosa Nostra doesn’t like it when their money doesn’t come back.”
He said Cosa Nostra? No, that can’t be. What business would my father have had with them?
“How much money are we talking about?”
“Five million euros.”
What?
I stand up, but I hold my hands out to keep him from coming closer. He stands as well but doesn’t move. I start pacing. Five million euros — dear God, I don’t have that kind of money. I never have. I stop and look at him.
“How much time do I have?”
He doesn’t answer, so I ask again, shouting this time:
“How much time do I have?!”
“Two days.”
What? He’s insane. Where the hell am I supposed to get that kind of money?
“I can’t give you that much, not now, not in two days! I don’t have anything but this shop! I can’t even sell it that fast. Is there another option? More time? Or… I don’t know… can I work it off?”
“That’s not how it works.” His voice is rough and harsh. This man has no heart whatsoever.
“What do you expect from me? I just found out my father owed you five million euros, and I’m supposed to pay it back in two days. How the hell am I supposed to do that?”
I’m practically yelling now, but I’m so damn angry. I just opened this shop — it was my dream! I didn’t get to enjoy my happiness for long. Of course. That would’ve been too good.
“I’ll be back the day after tomorrow.”
He starts walking toward the door, but I step in front of him.
“Don’t bother. I don’t have that kind of money. What happens if I can’t pay?”
He looks at me for a moment, then stares out the window and says the words as if commenting on the weather:
“You die.”
Then he walks out and leaves me alone.
That single word echoes in my head.
You die.
My knees give out and I collapse, sobbing.
There’s no hope and no way out. I can’t repay that kind of money.
I’m going to die.
- Writer
