THE DAY I MARRIED MY NIGHTMARE..

CH 11..

The freezing night air bit through my thin, soot-stained shirt the moment I pushed past the heavy glass doors of the medical complex, but I barely felt it. The steady, mocking ticking of the eight-o'clock deadline was a physical pressure pounding against my temples. One thousand euros required by the wealthy elites across the river to keep a dying twelve-year-old girl connected to a lung machine.

I threw myself onto my rusted green bicycle, my boots slamming down onto the pedals with a feral, manic fury. The chain groaned, a harsh mechanical screech echoing through the empty, pristine avenues of the wealthy district as I tore back toward the bridge, heading straight into the pitch-black, suffocating depths of the industrial slums.

There was only one man in the entire perimeter who had that kind of cash readily available on a Friday night. One man who held the keys to the kingdom of the poor.

Enzo.

Ten minutes later, I skidded to a halt in the damp, trash-strewn alley behind The Iron Den, Enzo's notorious underground gambling hall and syndicate headquarters. The muffled, heavy bass of music and the guttural shouts of men betting on illegal card games thudded through the reinforced concrete walls. I didn't knock. I slammed my weight against the rusted metal back door, pushing past two startled, leather-jacketed lookouts who tried to block my path.

"Hey! Street rat, you can't be back here.."

"Get your hands off me!" I roared, my eyes blazing with such a dangerous, volatile fire that the guards actually took a step back, their jaws dropping as I stormed down the dimly lit hallway and kicked open the heavy oak door to Enzo’s private office.

The room smelled suffocatingly of expensive cigars, cheap whiskey, and stale sweat. Enzo sat behind a massive, polished mahogany desk, counting thick stacks of crisp euro bills beneath the harsh glare of a green banker's lamp. He looked up, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across his scarred face as he took a drag from his cigar.

"Well, well, well," Enzo drawled, leaning back in his leather chair, his golden rings glinting in the low light.

"Look what the cat dragged in. Soteria. What are you doing in my den at midnight?"

"I need One thousand euros," I demanded, my chest heaving as I slammed both palms flat against his mahogany desk, leaning forward until I was staring directly into his cold, calculating eyes. I didn't beg. I didn't have the breath for it.

"Right now, Enzo. I don't care about the interest. Put it on our laundry shop tab. Double it, triple it, build an iron cage around my life, I don't care. Just give me the cash tonight."

Enzo stared at me for a long, agonizing moment. Then, he threw his head back and let out a booming, gravelly laugh that echoed off the concrete walls.

"One thousand euros?" Enzo wheezed, wiping a tear of mocking amusement from his eye as he leaned forward, blowing a thick cloud of acrid cigar smoke directly into my face.

"You think I’m a charity house, street rat? You and that old lizard Beatrice are already drowning in debt to me!"

"Marta was hit by a car!" I shrieked, my voice cracking, the raw, maternal desperation tearing through my throat. I grabbed the edge of his desk, my knuckles turning white.

"She’s across the river in a coma! The hospital is going to pull the plug and dump her in a public ward by morning if I don't pay! Please, Enzo... I am begging you. Give me the money."

The mocking laughter slowly faded from Enzo’s face, replaced by a dark, sickeningly predatory gleam. He rested his thick, hairy forearms on the desk, his eyes scanning my face, my torn clothes, and the wild, breathless rise and fall of my chest with a disgusting, possessive hunger.

"Marta, huh? Tragically beautiful," Enzo murmured, his voice dropping into a low, oily purr. He opened a heavy steel drawer beneath his desk, lifting out a thick, banded brick of crisp hundred-euro notes and dropping it onto the wood with a heavy, seductive thud.

"Tell you what, Soteria. I have a soft heart. I’ll give you the one thousand euros tonight. And it won't be a loan. You won't owe me a single cent of interest."

A sudden, sharp spike of hope flared in my chest, but it was instantly strangled by the dark smile creeping across his lips.

"But it’s not free," Enzo whispered, leaning across the desk, his breath hot and foul against my skin.

"In exchange for this brick, you sign a contract of a different kind. You sleep with me ten times. And the timing of those ten times depends entirely on me. When I want you, I will call you. Anytime, anywhere. You drop everything, you come to my bed, and you pay your debt. Do we have a deal?"

The world seemed to stop spinning.

The disgusting, degrading horror of his words echoed in my ears, turning the blood in my veins to pure, boiling acid. The collective trauma of my entire existence, the fierce, unyielding pride of a girl who had fought every monster in the slums to keep her dignity intact, and the absolute fury of being cornered like an animal exploded within my soul.

SLAP!

The sound crackled through the office like a gunshot.

I didn't just slap him; I threw the entire weight of my body, my grief, and my slum-bred rage into my right hand, striking him so hard across the face that his cigar flew out of his mouth and his head violently snapped to the side. The force of the blow tore a deep red gash across his cheekbone, his lip instantly splitting open against his teeth as he stumbled backward in his leather chair.

"You disgusting, filthy pig!" I screamed, my voice vibrating with a lethal, unyielding fury as I backed toward the door, my entire body shaking with a violent tremor.

"I would rather burn in hell before I let your repulsive hands touch me!"

Enzo roared in pain and shock, clutching his bleeding face as his eyes turned completely feral.

"You crazy street rat! I’ll kill you! Boys! Grab her!"

But I didn't wait for his thugs. I turned on my heel, kicked the office door open, and ran.

I sprinted down the dimly lit corridor, tears of pure, suffocating humiliation and rage finally bursting from my eyes, blinding my vision as I burst through the back door into the freezing, dark alley. I collapsed against the damp plaster wall, a ragged, choked sob tearing out of my chest as I let myself weep into my trembling hands.

The clock was still ticking. The euros were still gone. And I was completely, utterly out of time.