A man who has made a mistake and doesn't correct it is making another mistake.
- Confucius
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□Marc
Tuesday, January 7
2:20 am
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
A sigh escapes my lips as I walk down the hallways of the dirty building. The smell of liquor and cigars invade my nose, causing my stomach to fall upset.
Men laugh loudly at my naked state, cracking up on jokes that didn't even make sense. The whores, of course, whisper to one another about the things they would do to me if they got the chance to be alone with me. My hands cover my junk, while Casie's gun presses up against the back of my head. "Hope you like the view back there Figlio," I say, trying to annoy him.
"Vaffanculo! You bastard." He replies, pushing me. I smile, knowing that I got under his skin. If this idiot thought that making me walk naked in front of a bunch of strangers would humiliate me, he was strongly mistaken. I don't care what these people think about me. Their opinion doesn't mean shit to me.
We stop at the door at the end of the hallway. Casie moves a little, making sure not to touch me. He knocks on the brown wooden door, and in an instant a deep voice replies saying, "Come in."
Casie Pushes open the door, and grabs onto my arm, yanking me inside the room with him. Darkness came, the room dark as it can be. "What type of shit is this," I mumble to myself. With the clap of a hand, the room is lit up with lights. Thick velvet curtains hid the long windows across the black walls, just leaving a shy peak of the woods beyond. Two antique couches stood the opposite sides of each on the hand-woven rug in front of the ashen fireplace, accompanied by rich velvet and bronze wing-chairs that stood as a sidekick.
"Welcome, Marc." A voice booms, causing me to snap my head to the side. A man walks forward out of the dark. He wears a neatly pressed suit, the kind you only see on high priced lawyers and gangsters. His brown eyes settle on me. It was ElRagazzone. "You look older than the last time I saw you." He points at the hands, which is still covering my junk. "Comfortable?"
I glare at him. "What do you think?" I say sarcastically. "The last time you saw me I was seventeen, so yeah, of course, I'm older."
He chuckles, removing his suit jacket. "Your right about that Figlio."
