Episode 2

D' ANGELO

On the first three days away from everything I knew, I couldn't even close my eyes to sleep. I was kidnapped, drugged, and those who had done this to me didn't even bother to hide their faces. I saw each of the men's faces clearly as they surrounded me. I didn't have the strength to fight against those brutes because I was on the verge of breaking down in tears - tears of regret, of anger, and of frustrated love.

In the early morning, before being kidnapped on the Brooklyn Bridge by strong men in a black car, I had to endure pain, a pain capable of ending anyone's happiness.

I had been invited to a party where I would meet some friends and schoolmates, but also my girlfriend, who used to tell me every day that she loved me. I was seventeen years old and already knew that the love I felt for her was real and that I wanted to have her by my side forever. And in that early morning, while searching for her in every room of the friend's house who invited us, I found her in a compromising situation with my supposed best friend. I cried when I saw them, and the only thing I thought about was running away and keeping my distance. My now ex-girlfriend Ariana followed me, trying to explain how things had been, but the only response she received from me was a deserved slap against her pale face.

I left without a direction, bumping into innocent people, and decided to wander the streets of Manhattan.

Ariana saddened my heart and my whole being, she shouldn't have done that on the same night we celebrated the end of high school and in an important week for me because my 18th birthday was just around the corner.

In the car with my hands tied and my messy curls falling over my face, hiding it completely, I heard the black-haired man next to me talking to the other man who was driving the vehicle. My heart had been racing since the moment I was taken, tied up, and thrown into that car. I could only imagine my end and the ways they would use to kill me. They weren't merciful, but they also didn't say anything, even though I tried to talk to them, and that would be my fate.

In just one early morning, I had been betrayed, kidnapped, hurt, and the only thing left was to be killed and raped. I know I wasn't thinking straight, fear consumed me entirely, desperation didn't let me breathe.

A ringing sound came from beside me and the man's rough voice began to be heard. He seemed to be talking to someone in a higher position than him, someone named Armstrong. Both talked about me.

"We have her, Armstrong."

The call ended.

Armstrong was certainly a man, the man who ordered his men to kidnap me. He must be a damn son of a bitch, a sadistic bastard and arrogant jerk.

Those men were taking me to him, someone whom I had started to fear and hate long before meeting him.

After feeling something like a needle piercing me slightly, I started to struggle, even though I was strapped into the seatbelt. I kicked the front seat and made a scene with screams and curses. The man next to me held me tightly and everything I did was in vain, and little by little, I lost strength and an absurd drowsiness took hold of me... I passed out.

When I woke up, I saw that I was in the company of men dressed in black, with guns at their waists and seriousness on their faces, both of which disgusted me. I realized I was lying on a large bed with blood-red sheets and bedside tables around me, with turned-off lamps. It was already daytime and the sun was shining through the glass window, with curtains descending from the ceiling.

I shifted on the luxurious bed and the men stood at attention, as if I were an enemy of the state or a damn terrorist, of all the people, I had no idea why I was kidnapped or why I was in a different place.

I pulled the blanket over me completely when I noticed that my clothing, completely different from what I was wearing when I was kidnapped, was somewhat revealing and I didn't want the eyes of those assholes on me, staring at me like perverts.

I took a deep breath as I observed the entire room with walls made of black stone and came across a recently extinguished fireplace. There was an armchair near the window, as well as a coffee table with bottles of bourbon and whiskey - the alcoholic tastes of a man - and where was this so-called Armstrong?

Was he afraid to look or meet the 17-year-old girl who ordered the kidnapping?

My only desire was to kill the one who claimed to be Armstrong, but armed security guards were my impediment.

An absurd hunger took hold of me and I got up, still wrapped in the blanket, and stepped onto the black, cold floor. I looked at one of the guards and he wasn't one of those involved in my kidnapping.

The black-haired guard stared at me and I wondered if I should address him or wait for Armstrong's kindness to bring me something to eat. I thought this way because if it was to kill me, I would surely be seven feet under the ground in a black bag.

The guard and I exchanged nervous glances, and as I took a step towards him, he backed away as if he had been repelled like a mosquito by a spray. I took another step towards him, while the other guard with a beard and red hair just observed, and the black-haired one backed away again, eventually pulling out his revolver and pointing it at me. It was a tense and silent moment.

Why were they acting this way when I obviously couldn't fight them? Why didn't they open their mouths to reprimand me? Why were they silent?

That silence was tormenting me...

I sat on the edge of the bed and the guard returned the revolver to his waist, standing there like one of the queen's soldiers.

I stared at the red-bearded one and he wasn't so ugly, and I thought about this so-called Armstrong and how he might look physically.

Could he be one of those disgusting pot-bellied bosses from the movies?

Could he be a mafia boss?

Or could he be an irresistible hunk who kidnaps girls to be his sex slaves?

In my purest little heart, I would choose the third option, even though I had no interest in individuals with Y chromosomes.

I laughed at that useless thought, and when I noticed a tough smile being returned by the red-haired one, I ignored him and quickly ran to the window, letting the blanket fall to the floor, but the black-haired guard grabbed my forearm, paralyzing me.

I glared at him furiously, ignoring the fact that he had a revolver in his waistband, and pushed him away so that he kept those filthy hands away from me. Then, he stepped back, becoming like the bearded one.

It was obvious that they couldn't touch or speak to me, and I kept that thought in my mind. Then, I looked outside and through the window, I saw a pool surrounded by a large garden of red and white roses.

From the edge of the pool, at the end of the garden, I could see a guard pacing back and forth, being attentive and vigilant. I was in a place where things weren't a joke, and it hit me, making me feel sad. I would never leave that place again, I would never see my aunt Georgia's face again, and I would never speak to my father through phone calls again. My life had already changed, and no one would be able to find me or rescue me from there. The only thing missing was a hellish situation on my birthday, which was approaching.

My stomach growled with hunger and I walked towards the bed. When I sat down and thought about talking to the bearded man, the wooden door opened and the black-haired man who had participated in my kidnapping entered, bringing with him a tray with what seemed to be everyone's desired breakfast. Fruit, biscuits, juice, coffee or tea. My eyes saw and my stomach desired. But they also saw that brutal man whom I had learned to hate.

The man walked over to the small table and placed the tray on it. Then he turned to look at me with a smile on his face, as if he were a butler smiling at a guest. He wasn't ugly, he had a pleasant appearance.

"Good morning, Ms. D'Angelo," he said kindly.

Ms. D'Angelo?

"Good morning is a lie..."

"Insults or foul language are not allowed in this mansion, unless Armstrong permits it!" he interrupted me and I trembled with anger. "Are you hungry?"

"Tell that Armstrong guy that he is a despicable bastard and that you all are sons of bitches!"

"She's feisty," the black-haired one whispered. "Little does she know that this Armstrong guy is..."

"Shut up, Jones!" he shouted and his scream made me shudder.

"Yes, Mr. Mercier," Jones silenced himself, completely weak and bowed his head.

I smiled at the situation and stood up, walking towards Mercier. He straightened his posture, crossing his hands behind his back.

I thought about what this Armstrong guy could be... Why did Mercier interrupt right at the best part? Intriguing.

"And when will Armstrong have the courage to talk to the harmless girl he sent to be kidnapped?" I confronted Mercier and he remained silent, just watching me.

I walked over to the small table and took some strawberries for myself, which I ate calmly, even though I was desperate to satisfy my hunger. Those strawberries were delicious and only made me more hungry.

Without caring about the glances from the three men there, I took the tray and sat down in the armchair, and started eating everything normally because I didn't want to see the smiles of those who kept me captive there. The view outside was pleasant and I couldn't deny it.

I saw some movement over their shoulders, and when I turned a little surprised and curious, I saw that only Mercier and I were there. Jones and the red-bearded man were no longer present.

An instant later, Mercier approached and stood next to the armchair, looking at the garden while I satisfied my hunger.

I felt that he wanted to talk to me and wasn't confident enough to do so, so with my mouth full of biscuits, I asked:

"What do you want?" I wasn't being nice, none of them had been with me.

He didn't respond. I didn't know if he was fluent in Spanish, because he had no accent.

"What do you want?"

"Just to welcome you to Armstrong Mansion, ma'am, and to let you know that..."

"Don't call me ma'am!" I argued. "I'm not married... I'm only 17 years old, but you obviously already know that!"

"And to let you know that Armstrong will meet with you soon," he said, ignoring everything I had said before.

I stood up, already a little impatient, and the tray with everything on it fell onto the black floor, where the half-full juice glass, as well as the empty cup, fell and broke.

"I don't want to meet Armstrong..." I stepped carefully around the shards. "I want you to let me go. I have a life, I have a family... tengo um padre!"

"Father?" he said mockingly and smiled dryly, which interrupted me. "Your dear father, Ms. D'Angelo, doesn't care about you!"

"That's not true! He will come looking for me, you... you..."

"Under different circumstances, maybe..." he interrupted me again, and I noticed tears forming in the corners of my eyes. "But in this case, that is impossible!"

"You're a liar, despicable..."

"And you're a bargaining chip!"

I froze...

My heart squeezed and my blood boiled even more...

What does he mean, a bargaining chip?

"What are you talking about?"

"Well... Armstrong has the duty to respond to you... I've already said too much," he said, completely malicious, and turned to leave. "I will send the cleaning lady to clean up the mess you made!" he referred to the shattered glass on the black floor.

Shattered glass? I thought and reacted immediately, without thinking about the consequences...

I grabbed one of the shards and ran towards him, who seemed distracted, and when I got close to piercing any part of his muscular body, he turned and stopped me with those big, strong hands, where I was completely trapped.

He quickly took the shard from me and pushed me, making me fall, and his ironic smile appeared again.

Armstrong will have a great task taming you!

Taming?

Mercier left, leaving me locked in there, alone, and without hope of ever being able to live my old life again.

A bargaining chip? Was I really a bargaining chip?

What did my father do?

I woke up from a nightmare, looked around, and realized that the nightmare was real. I was still in that bed, being monitored by security guards.

My life now was the complete opposite of what I had always desired for my destiny.

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