I Amsterdam (Completed)

Chapter 5.1 - Emma

"I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together."       - Marilyn Monroe

The people we are closest to, whether physically or mentally, are always the people with the power over you. You put your feelings and your story, sometimes even your life, into their hands, with only the thought of trust guiding you to do so.

However, trust is one of the easiest things to take advantage of.

I usually worked in the mornings, but I was planning to travel to Switzerland soon, and I had too little savings to comfort me for the trip. So, because there was no afternoon shift available, I took the evening shift along with my morning one.

I worked in a typical Italian restaurant that sat in the heart of Rome. It paid well if you were to commit a good number of hours there, but my need to tour the city took most of my time, and so there I was, waiting on tables in the middle of the night to pay the price.

It was a good thing that I met a close friend the day I started these evening shifts. He was an Italian 20 year-old who was fluent in English and decided to ditch college to start a job waiting tables. His dream was to create his own restaurant one day. He always arrived for work earlier than I did, and teased me about it when I rushed into the restaurant as he was taking a customer's order, giving me a cheeky smile and saying, "Just in time."

I could always tell he spent a long time on his slicked back hair and his clean-shaven beard before showing up to work, and he always wore plaid, button-up shirts.

His name was Marco.

It was on my first night working at the restaurant that I spilled to him that I travel the world by myself, getting jobs here and there to support myself. I loved his amazed reaction as every day, as we sat on a small step around the corner from where we worked after our shift, I told him about a new city I've been to, and in return, he taught me how to say a few phrases in Italian. He made me more confident in everything I was doing.

I had worked the evening shifts for about a week until one day, Marco started acting strange. The whole evening, he just kept on giving me a look. Wherever he was or whatever he was doing, he would always glance over at me, whether I was serving food or taking an order or just walking by. I was so naive to all the signals.

It continued on when we sat on the step and had our usual conversation after work finished. I remembered telling him about my stay in Tours, France. After, he began teaching me some useful phrases on how to compliment other people in Italian, but even though Italian was his mother tongue, and he never messes it up, he messed up way more than once or twice that day. He just wasn't focusing. His eyes were always on me.

So I decided to stop our chat short. "Are you okay?" I had asked Marco. "You seem distracted." Above us the sky was growing pink and dark blue as the day turned to night. The restaurant had closed 15 minutes ago, and there was no one around but us.

"I'm not," he retorted, his English accentless. I stared him down. "Okay, I am. By you."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

He smiled. "Come with me to my place."

I scoffed. I could see in his eyes what he wanted. "No, thank you." I stood up to leave.

Marco immediately grabbed my wrist, and pulled me towards him. I stopped myself before I came too close. His grip on my wrist was firm, and when I tried to gently take back my arm, it only tightened. I winced at the pain. "Marco," I said calmly yet powerfully. "Let go."

"Why?" he asked. "All I want is you."

I glared at him. "But you're not all I want," I said. "Let go of my hand."

In a sudden, strong motion of his arm, he switched positions with me, and pushed me backwards until I felt the cold, stony wall against my spine. He had his body in front of me, his arms on either side of me to prevent me from escaping. My fingers clamped up into fists by my side.

"I don't care what you want," he spat. His body sandwiched mine, and slowly, his hand went down to my waist. His touch was strong and hungry for more. "You have no one that cares what you want. You're alone, Emma. All you've got is me."

I tried to push against his force, but he only pushed back harder, a bored look crossing his face. "You're not leaving," he said.

"Yes I am," I replied. With a swift action, I quickly catapulted my head backwards, slightly scraping it on the stone wall behind it, and then sprung it forwards to bang my forehead against Marco's with a loud crack. He stumbled backwards, a hand on his now swelling forehead. I didn't have time to take care of my own, and refused to let him remind me of the pain that I felt ringing in my skull. But before I made a run for it, I stepped forward towards Marco, my agony propelling me. He looked at me, clueless to what I might do next.

I gave him a strong kick to the stomach to knock him fully onto the floor, and then got on top of him to throw a few strikes to his face. I knocked a tooth out. My fists were bleeding from contact with his skull, but I disregarded the pain to give Marco what he deserves.

He tried to shove me off, but I stood my ground. I now had the advantage and we both knew it, meaning I was finished only when I decided I was finished. I punched him until he was unconscious, and then made a run for it.

I left Italy the very next day, with no plans to ever return.