Her Predator

Natalia Do you recall the day when everything in your life changed? I do. It was a cool, dry evening in March. A brisk northerly breeze blew across town, making it the perfect day to stay indoors and stay warm rather than go to work. This is exactly what I would have done, but here I was, headed to 'Starbutts,' a seedy gentleman's nightclub. I used to work as a waitress there. Why was I working in such a sleazy place? It's a long story. On that Saturday night, the tale of my undoing began. I was ascending the building's steps to my flat, which I shared with my 19-year-old brother Johnathan. I removed my heels and clutched them in my left hand while gripping a grocery bag in the other. With my ankle stressed, this provided little relief. While looking for my keys, I waved at the cat lady who lived across from our flat. She threw me a sneer and clutched her Bible even tighter. 'I've been sentenced to eternal damnation!' Rolling my eyes, I pondered. The room was dimly lit, and I wondered where Johnathan was. I turned on the light and walked over to the cramped kitchen. "Johnathan! Are you in ?" While opening the fridge door, I yelled. There was no response. As I approached our shared bedroom, I noticed my brother sitting in a corner. His dark hair floated over his hands as he rested his head on his knees. I approached him and gave him a little prod. "Hey! What what's wrong? " I inquired. He gazed up at me with dazzling green eyes that were the same colour as mine. The only difference was that his eyes were rimmed in red. "John, what happened?" I inquired once more. "I don't know what to do, Nat," he said. "What?" I inquired. "I was pretty stupid," he admitted. "Did you lose yet again?" I enquired. He nodded. I yelled at him, "How many times do I have to warn you that gambling is going to get you in serious trouble?" Johnathan and I had been living a less-than-ideal existence. Our mom left us years ago. After our dad's death, the child protection tried to find our mother but they couldn't find her. We ended up in foster care. Life was hard, but I tried my best. I didn't hear the bell at first, merely noticing a ringing noise on the outskirts of my awareness. I was startled to discover that there was someone at the door. I pushed myself up to my feet and manoeuvred past the stacks of magazines and general litter. I spotted three enormous, burly men standing on her porch when I opened the door. "Can I assist you?" I inquired, trying to conceal my nervousness by keeping my voice calm. "We've come to visit Johnathan," one man explained. He was dressed in a jacket and slacks, with a scar on his right cheek. The other males were dressed smartly as well, but they all appeared to be nightclub bouncers. "I'm afraid he isn't available right now." I apologetically smiled. "Can I leave a message for you with him?" The first man shoved me aside and pushed me against the door, forcing his way into the living room. Fearful, I tried to close the door again, but the other two men followed, shoving me aside as if I were no threat. I stumbled into the living room, quickly slamming the door behind them. When I got into my room, Johnathan's arm was pulled up behind his back where he lay, and the scar-faced man was snarling at him. "No!" I sobbed. "Please don't hurt him! What exactly are you looking for?!" "We want our money," the man stated. "Money?" I gave him a puzzled look. "What kind of money are you talking about? What's your name? Why are you attempting to extort money from my brother?" Johnathan was whimpering on the couch, his arm cradled by the man as he rose slowly. It was his turn to be amused. "Do you mean he hasn't told you?" "Told me what ?" I sobbed. "What's going on, John?" I confronted my brother, interrogating him, but all he did was hang his head in shame. It was up to his assailant to answer my questions. "Your brother has gotten himself into a lot of trouble. He took out a loan from our boss a few weeks ago, and we haven't heard a peep about the repayments. Our boss is not a patient man." I was enraged: more debt issues! What was he thinking? And to take out loans from folks like this! As usual, I assumed it would be up to me to work things out. "I get what you mean. Can't we resolve this in a civilised manner, gentlemen, without resorting to violence? I'm sure I'll be able to pay whatever we owe you..." When I looked up, I noticed the two sidekicks were giggling; 'Scar-face' had a wry grin on his face. "What's the big deal?" I demanded, irritated that these men dared to walk into my home and mock me. "Do you have ten thousand dollars in that tiny purse?" 'scar-face' enquired. His companions continued to chuckle. I went completely still. Ten thousand dollars? Johnathan would not have taken out such a large loan because he knew we would never be able to repay it. I returned my gaze to him, my eyes imploring for an explanation, but he simply turned away. "You foolish b***h, it's just an interest." 'Scar-face' growled. "When you skip a payment, the debt piles up quickly. And your dear brother has been missing quite a few..." My legs felt like jelly as I fell onto the seat. So, what was I supposed to do now? I just had a few hundred pounds in the bank. Where would I ever earn ten thousand pounds? "That isn't even the worst of it." 'Scar-face' smiled back. "Jhonny, you've been a pretty silly lad, haven't you? And now you know what we have to do..." One of the other males took a rectangular silver object from his pocket. He handed it over to scar face,' who unfolded it to expose a massive, serrated blade. He took a step forward and grabbed Johnathan's hand. "Do you recall the deal? Each week is represented by one finger. Today, three little piggies are going to the market." He laughed at himself, and his friends joined in. Johnathan's face grew deathly white, and he drew himself onto the couch as far as he could. However, he was unable to relinquish his grip, and scar-faced transferred the blade to his little finger. "Eenie, Bernie, minie, moe... So, where do I begin? What are you going to do with this little piggy?" A trickle of blood began to stream down Johnathan's fingers and drip onto the wooden floor as he drove the blade into his flesh. Johnathan appeared to be in a daze. My tears were almost uncontrollable. Johnathan talked for the first time. "Please, I'll do anything," he whimpered. "Karl, please don't do this. Take whatever you want...furniture, television, etc. I swear I'll pay you back; just take them in the meantime. Please." His body shook, wracked with sobs, as tears streamed down his face. Karl raised an eyebrow at his fellow thugs as he peered about. He stood up and drew Johnathan's hand back to him. He used more force with the knife this time, and his finger bled profusely, a stream of scarlet liquid streaming from his hand. I watched as his face crumpled and his body bowed in humiliation and shame as he begged scar-face,' Karl, to stop. My heart sank with fear. I had to put a stop to it. "Wait!" As I spoke, the scarface turned to face me. "I'd like to speak with your boss. I'll deal with him and ask for more time." I was trembling with fear, but I had to try. The men looked at me for a few moments before laughing. "You're going to deal with my boss? Have you any idea who he is?" Karl remarked. "I'll give it a shot; maybe he doesn't like cutting off fingers," I stated in an attempt to sound brave. "Sure thing, lady. It's not as if Alessandro Costello has time for you." I had no idea what had happened to me. Perhaps that one glass of alcohol I had at the club was the cause of my erratic behaviour. I just blurted it out. "Alessandro Costello, did you say? Who owns the nightclubs on Shelby Street?" "Do you know who he is?" Karl gave a sly grin. "Yes." I took a long breath and exhaled slowly. "I know him, I am his girlfriend."