Chapter 3: A Second Chance
1023 Words
Darkness.
It was the first thing Francesca felt.
Not saw.
Felt.
A suffocating darkness pressed in from every direction, swallowing every sound except the pounding inside her head.
Her eyelids felt unbearably heavy.
With great effort, she forced them open.
The room was almost pitch-black. The only source of light came from a small window high above, where moonlight spilled through rusted bars.
She tried to move.
Her wrists burned.
She looked down.
Rough ropes bound her hands tightly behind a wooden chair.
Her ankles were tied as well.
"What..."
Her voice came out as a whisper.
Her head throbbed violently as fragmented memories rushed back.
The bus stop.
The hospital's phone call.
A black sack.
The blow to her head.
Her breathing quickened.
"No..."
She tugged at the ropes, but they only dug deeper into her skin.
Footsteps echoed outside.
The rusty metal door creaked open.
Two men walked in.
One of them was carrying a suitcase.
The other...
Francesca froze.
"Carlos?"
He smiled.
Not warmly.
Not lovingly.
It was a smile she had never seen before.
Cold.
Greedy.
Mocking.
"You finally woke up."
Francesca stared at him in disbelief.
"Carlos... what's happening?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he set the suitcase on a nearby table and opened it.
Bundles of cash.
Stacked neatly.
More money than Francesca had ever seen in her life.
Her eyes widened.
"Carlos..."
He laughed.
"They paid well."
Francesca looked from the money to his face.
Then back again.
A horrifying realization slowly settled over her.
"...No."
Carlos shrugged.
"I didn't have much of a choice."
"No..."
"They offered one hundred thousand euros."
"You sold me?"
She could barely get the words out.
"You sold me?"
Carlos avoided her gaze.
"You don't understand."
"I understand perfectly."
Her voice cracked.
"I worked three jobs..."
"I gave up university..."
"I gave you everything..."
"And you sold me?"
Carlos sighed impatiently.
"Francesca, stop making this difficult."
"You'll get used to it."
The words struck harder than any slap.
"You'll..."
"...get used to it?"
He closed the suitcase.
"I genuinely appreciate everything you've done for me."
He smiled.
"But money is money."
He picked up the suitcase.
"Goodbye, Franky."
He walked toward the door.
"Carlos!"
She screamed.
"Please!"
"Don't leave me here!"
He never looked back.
The heavy metal door slammed shut.
The sound echoed through the warehouse like the final nail in a coffin.
Francesca broke down.
The last person she believed would save her...
had been the one to destroy her.
The remaining man slowly approached.
His smile made her stomach twist.
"So..."
He crouched in front of her.
"Our newest merchandise."
Francesca shook her head frantically.
"No..."
"Please..."
"I'll do anything."
"I have a mother waiting for me."
"I'll pay you back."
He laughed.
"You?"
He grabbed a handful of her hair and forced her head upward.
"You belong to us now."
Francesca struggled desperately.
The ropes dug deeper into her wrists.
"Please!"
"I'm begging you!"
He ignored her.
Behind him...
another man entered the room.
Then another.
The warehouse door slowly closed.
The last thing Francesca heard before the room disappeared into darkness...
...was her own scream.
Time lost all meaning.
She no longer knew whether hours or days had passed.
Pain had become her only companion.
Every inch of her body ached.
Bruises covered her arms.
Cuts stained her skin.
Her lips were cracked from dehydration.
She lay curled up on the cold concrete floor, barely conscious.
Footsteps echoed once again.
She didn't bother opening her eyes.
She no longer cared.
Another pair of shoes stopped in front of her.
Unlike the others...
These footsteps were slow.
Elegant.
A woman.
Francesca forced one eye open.
A tall woman stood before her wearing a black mask.
Unlike the others, she remained perfectly clean.
Not a wrinkle on her clothes.
Not a speck of dust on her shoes.
She simply watched.
Silently.
Almost...
curiously.
Francesca wanted to ask who she was.
But no words came out.
The masked woman looked at her for a long moment before turning away.
"Dispose of her."
Those were the only words she spoke.
Then she left.
The warehouse door closed behind her.
Francesca's breathing grew weaker.
She could barely feel her own heartbeat.
Images flashed through her fading consciousness.
Her father's smile.
Her mother's gentle embrace.
Mrs. Morgana's kindness.
The scholarship she abandoned.
Carlos.
Sofia.
Everything she had sacrificed.
Everything she had lost.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
"I was wrong..."
Her voice was barely audible.
"I lived... for everyone else..."
"...except myself."
She slowly clenched her trembling fist.
"If..."
"If Heaven gives me..."
"...one more chance..."
"I'll protect my mother."
"I'll follow my own dreams."
"And..."
Her eyes burned with hatred.
"I'll make every one of you..."
"...pay."
Her hand fell limp.
The world faded away.
Darkness consumed everything.
"Francesca."
A familiar voice echoed somewhere far away.
"Francesca."
The voice became louder.
"Francesca!"
Her eyes flew open.
Bright lights blinded her.
She gasped sharply, sitting upright.
Mrs. Morgana stood before her, looking both worried and confused.
"You've been asleep for nearly twenty minutes."
Francesca stared at her.
"...Mrs. Morgana?"
The older woman frowned.
"Are you alright?"
Francesca looked around frantically.
The restaurant.
The kitchen.
The smell of fresh bread.
The sound of dishes clinking.
Everything was exactly as it had been before.
She looked down.
No ropes.
No bruises.
No blood.
Her uniform was spotless.
The white envelope containing her paycheck rested on the counter exactly where Mrs. Morgana had left it.
"No..."
She whispered.
"This..."
"...can't be."
Mrs. Morgana touched her forehead.
"You don't have a fever."
Francesca grabbed her wrist.
"What day is it?"
Mrs. Morgana blinked.
"...January twenty-fourth."
"What year?"
"...Two thousand and twenty-four."
Francesca's pupils shrank.
Her breathing became uneven.
She slowly turned toward the calendar hanging on the restaurant wall.
January 24, 2024.
Exactly ten hours...
before her death.
Tears filled her eyes.
She laughed.
Then cried.
Then laughed again.
Mrs. Morgana stared at her in alarm.
"Francesca?"
She slowly looked up.
A fire unlike anything before burned in her eyes.
"I'm back."
"And this time..."
"No one is going to destroy my life again."
- Writer
