The sun is starting to set. I only know this because the cellar has slowly gotten darker, and colder, and the foot traffic upstairs in the restaurant has died down.
As I wrap my arms around my legs, laying my head on top of my knee caps. I close my eyes. At least this time, I'm not restrained by chains or silenced by rags. But I am placed in a small corner of the room, behind bars.
I’m curious to know how long I’ll be forced to stay here. I doubt it will be long, Don Valentino wouldn’t risk the public learning about my capture as my screams for help surface from the floorboards.
Pretty soon, people will begin to wonder if I am on a suicide mission or if I have some sick fetish for being captured by the cruellest man, I know to walk the face of the planet.
This isn’t some scene from a n
