Omerta- Book I (Winner of the 2015 People's Choice Award)

22) Rat

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                               Sirens went off in my head. Wee-woo-wee-woo-wee-woo. I had to fight. I had to fight now.                

                               "No! No! NO!" I thrashed against his tall, massive frame. He didn't so much as budge. Ferro pinned my left hand to my right wrist, and fanned out the fingers on my right hand. Clearly, he had done this before.

                        "I'll be good!" I shouted. "I'll be good! Please! I'm sorry! I didn't leave the apartment, and I didn't say anything to the police! I'm SORRY!"

                        "You're not sorry. You're scared," Ferro spat at my ear, pressing the knife against the nail of my middle finger. I stared down at the chipped nail polish on my nail in horror, knowing it would be the last time I would see it. He started to talk in the third person. "You're a bad girl. A rat. You violated omertá. Bad girls and rats get a bad manicure from Ferro. Ferro's a little sloppy when it comes to nails, he didn't have any sisters to teach him growing up. So sometimes Ferro makes a boo boo, and ooops—!" He jerked my body against mine and let out a roar--BLAH--startling me into a bloodcurdling scream. He merely scraped some of the chipped polish off my fingernail, and chuckled loudly.

                        For a moment, I saw black splotches in front of my eyes. I thought was going to pass out, because I expected him to have sliced of my fingertip. Rotten bastard!

                        "Sometimes his blade slips," Ferro said coarsely at my ear, his accent thickening. "Sometimes it's not just the nail Ferro fixes up. Sometimes it's a finger; sometimes it's a hand. Bad girls get what they deserve, Scarlett. And you've been very bad, tigrotta mia."

                        "I'm not a bad girl!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, eyes wide in panic. "I'm not! I won't ever call the police again!" Geez, this man was the real deal. I felt like my heart was going to leap out of my throat, and go right down the drain of the sink. At some point, I started sobbing, trembling against him. "Please! Please don't hurt me! I'll give you anything!"

                        "Prove you're not a bad girl, and I won't."

                        "How?" I was a nervous wreck. "How?"

                        He closed the switchblade. "Talk dirty to me."

                        The tears stopped. "Are you kidding?"

                        Ferro flipped open the blade, fanning out my hand in the sink. "I never really liked pinkies..."