Possession Of A Gangster

Chapter 33- There Is No Innocence Here

I was shoved into the middle of a large, run down and derelict hall. Wow, how fucking original of them, bring the victims to some abandoned warehouse why don't you, hey! I have an idea, string us up and dunk us into a pool of sharks, that'd really get the ball rolling!
Brushing the dirt from my knees, I slowly got up, making sure to throw my worse glare to the pig behind me. "Dovrei mostrarvi alcune maniere." He gritted his teeth, edging closer to me.

<I ought to teach you some manners.>

"Perché hai molta esperienza in quella zona, vero?" I scoffed sarcastically, sick of the same fucking games. Every time something happy actually happens in my life, whenever something is good, ruthless bastards like these ruin it all. I knew I was being incredibly reckless to talk to this man like this. It was the god damn mafia after all and this man could kill me in seconds. However, when you mix; a lack of sleep, pregnancy hormones and the fact that something inside me was telling me I won't get hurt, you're going to come out with a very pissy young lady.

< oh yeh, because you have a lot of experience in that area, right?>

Before I knew it I was face down on the floor, my cheek throbbing and a harsh pull on my hair warning me to get the fuck up. The man ripped at my hair once more, physically forcing me on my feet as I shouted out in pain. Stumbling as he dragged me to a pipe at the other end of the room, I pushed back tears with all I could. The man sniggered, tugging sharply before releasing me to form a large, pitiful heap on the floor. "Prendi il cazzo." He spat at me.

<Get the fuck up.>

My mind was screaming at me to get up, but my muscles wouldn't respond. Too mentally and physically exhausted to obey him, the man eventually bored. "Cazzo di puttana." The volume of his voice had tears leaking from their confinement, it made me sick showing weakness to this monster, but I had no effort left. He gripped my arms painfully, dragging me up to my knees, before pulling me once more to my feet. My frail arms were lifted above my head, before tied to the pipe above.

<Fucking whore!>

I couldn't run, I couldn't hide, and more importantly, I was alone with this 'man'. His glares shot fear into me very quickly, his eyes were almost black, a dark pool of blood in those deadly sockets. His skin was leathered, littered with a few scars from previous experience of torture like this. It was clear that his nose had been broken many times. He just looked evil. You know how people have that look where, without evidence, you wouldn't question that they had committed a crime.

A flash of silver had me thrashing in my restraints, desperately trying to kick the stalking predator alway. He had pulled out a knife. A small, but very sharp, very prominent knife. My eyes squeezed shut as I weakly attempted to pull at the pipe, begging an unknown strength to rise within me. The hard look on his face as he made his way over to me, ever so carefully, had me screaming. The knife pointed dangerously to my flesh.

Suddenly his rough hand gripped my arm, holding me still with vicious intent. I screamed, shaking my head, desperately trying to move as far away as I possibly could. He growled, struggling against my protest, before driving the tip of the blade into the top of my wrist, and then turning to the other to do the same. I screamed out in pain, wailing desperately as blood slid down my arms, soaking into my, already red, dress.

"You get your fucking hands off of her!" My head snapped up, through blurred tears I could see Damon being hauled in here by a group of men. He frantically tried to gain release, throwing punches, dragging the men to the ground. I cried, the wounds throbbing now. Damons eyes were ablaze, he was no longer the Damon I knew, he was ruthless. He began beating the men severely, desperately trying to make his way to me.