I've been in here for 3 hours 19 minutes and 46 second. The room I'm in is pure white from the four walls, 1 window, the one door to the far left, locked.
Before they know how useless a pick pocketer may be, I've considered my last words. Why did I choose the most boring life? This isn't a Cruella Disney movie, and even if I saw it last night, I shouldn't have let it influence my selection. Life isn't like what you see in Disney movies no dancing on tables like high school musical and breaking out in a song, no happy endings, no prince charming.
I mean:
We start school, learn about dead white people, finish school thinking we've achieved something, go to college to get a job, get a job, retire, and die. Theirs nothing to live for I mean the things I want to know happens after death:
Like was Marilyns death really overdose? Did the royal family kill Diana? What really happened to Jon Bennet? How many white men lied about their inventions actually made by women? Which religion was telling the truth? Is life really worth it at the end? Or is it all just a test?
Man I would've been lap dancing someone right now.
I'd rather be in a law and order show then be here at least I'd be famous for being stupid.
I haven't seen anyone except me, the only reflection I see in the one way window. I have no clue on how I got here or any other clue on how to escape. I'd rather just die at this point but if they make me wait for my own death that isn't any fun.
Looking at my complexion in the mirror I would've been a great prostitute or mistress if I showered, took proper care of myself, had makeup, slept, combed my hair. I would've killed my old husband and fled to Italy with my inheritance and live in a tiny cottage alongside the ocean by now. I could've woke up and see the ocean from my bedroom window, and watch the sunset.
But no. Of course I choose the stupid decision.
Goddamnit just kill me already. If you could afford a fucking room to hold people in captive you could afford guns to shoot me already!
Ladies. Pick the red wine cottage life.
I don't know who I stole from other than him being tall and broad. Maybe he's a drug dealer? Or he sells people's organs on the black market whatever he probably is rich.
Now 25 minutes on my head clock nothing to do just me and my reflection. I wonder what there doing on the other side of the one way window, maybe considering how stupid my life is. A runaway who just fled to New York from Chicago? Lived in the ghetto most her life, had a perfect older sister, was the second to get a college degree in sociology who thought she could get away from her parents but instead never left their side.
Enough of this depressing child hood bullshit. I need to get out of here.
Like the Lord finally answered my prayers a lean figure appears.
"Hi. Im Enzo" He says showing a soft smile. Brunette 5'9 dude about Persian or French with a little bit of Italian genes opens the door. I give him a soft smile as he enters squatting down to reach my gaze.
"How long have you been doing that" he ask. That. That as in stealing and shoplifting?
A long time. A long long time. "A couple of months. Ran out of money when I moved to New York." I tell him lying. Carefully choosing the expression on my face.
"How old are you?" he ask me
"21" I answer back
"What's your name?"
"Salvatrice. But you could call me Sal" I tell him getting up from the bed
"Enough with the small talk just tell her already" A familiar voice says opening the door. Another tall grumpy figure appears. This one the same one I stole from comes in but wearing a white tank top almost to thin for him because I could see the dark lines of his tattoos.
I've messed with the wrong men.
"What do you guys do?" I ask strongly
"We work for the mafia" Enzo says
"I run the mafia" the other figure says
"Actually he runs his mafia. The Italian Mafia. Not every mafia."
"Cool" I tell them uninterested quietly celebrating with the fact their not sex traffickers.
"We just told you we work for the mafia and your response to that is cool?" Enzo says
"How about a proposition. You work for us. You get information, steal things for us. Work for me and we'll help you pay your debts and provide you free living."
Their giving me and ultimatum just for me to work with them. Cool.
"Deal." I tell them.
I pay off my debt and leave. I just need to steal things and work for them. And plus telling by the looks of their dungeon, their probably loaded.
YOU ARE READING
Diavolo
Teen Fiction"So why do you need me?" "Well after a pity vote to keep you alive. Will train you and teach you how to steal more effectively. Sooner or later you can help steal from government banks, warehouses of our rivals, and many more." "If you dont mind me...
