In the End

9│The Babysitter

I banged my fist down against the table, writhing in pain, "Please, please stop,"

I was sitting on the bench in one of the many bathrooms that were in this house. Considering the lack of items, both on the bench that I was sitting on and in the open-shelved cupboards.

Luciano tightened his grasp on my thighs, "If you don't stop moving, I'll make more injuries to stitch up."

I closed my mouth, biting my tongue as I leant my head back in pain as Luciano made another stitch. Apparently, he had enough medical training to realise that the cut on my thigh was much too deep to heal properly. A miracle that I had managed to get so far before realising.

That led me to right here, right now. Luciano was seated with his legs spread out, focusing carefully on nothing but my leg and the needle in his hand. No sedatives, no numbing solutions. According to Luciano, they didn't own any, but to me, that sounded like a load of bullshit. My whole body was shaking as tears streamed down my face. I didn't really need any numbing solutions now, the sheer pain of the procedure is enough to leave my leg completely unfeeling. I wish Luciano had been kind, at least kind enough to bash my head into unconsciousness.

Another stitch ran through my skin as I let out another whimper.

Luciano sighed, "Why even bother Ida? You seem smart enough, smart enough to realise that there was no way I wouldn't realise. So why bother?"

What a question. "Perhaps I thought that I would be able to. In theory, escaping an empty house seems extremely doable."

"But the house wasn't empty." He counterargued,

"Sure, but the entire living community being in the basement for who knows what is practically the same thing," I shouted. "Do you know what you've done? What you've ruined? I had a life, I worked two jobs, I lived with my best friend, I was completely independent-"

"And you were falling behind on rent, by the look of you, you barely ate and you sold yourself to every customer that walked into the establishment. How extremely successful." He commented sarcastically, tugging on the stitching string.

I slapped him. "I was doing what I needed to do. Money is money, Luciano. And I don't want to hear one fucking word from you, considering the fact that you make your money of murder and drug rings."

"And the rest." He sneered. "Here's the thing, that's my life-"

"And it's not mine?"

"-It's two very different life dynamics, now if you don't stay still, maybe you can get your old job back and work in my club."

I gulped. Whatever establishment that Luciano owned would be wildly different from the Pearl, regardless of the fact that The Pear was already toeing the line already. None of his threats got to me, especially since I had no proof that he would follow through with them. I looked down at my leg for only a moment, there would be less than five minutes left in this, only a few centimetres of my wound still gaping open. I didn't even want to risk the opportunity for that threat to come into play.

So I relaxed my body and didn't say a word.

Luciano scoffed, "And just like that, she's silent. Perhaps I'll threaten your integrity more often Ida."

"Just get it done," I gritted, rolling my eyes. "Please just- just get it done."

Thankfully, he didn't see a need to reply, continuing to thread the needle through the delicate skin on my thigh. It was torture, but I managed to stay still, heavy breaths leaving my mouth as I tried to keep control.

I felt one more sharp tug as Luciani tied off the stitch, knotting it before pulling out a small pair of scissors and cutting it off.

From there, Luciano raised himself from the chair, moving his hands and placing them directly beside me, pressing against the marble countertop.