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DEATH AND ITS WIELDER
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2024-10-29 19:42:56Related chapters
Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner ENSNARED
Capello was seated on the chair beside Alejandro while I was stuck in the kitchen, cooking. It was a welcome distraction for the event week I’d experienced at Alejandro’s house. They were speaking in Italian and it was pissing me off. Maybe if I had a phone… I slammed the knife hard on the chopping board… I would have google-translated a couple of those words and I wouldn’t worry if they were planning my death.“Can you ease up on the cooking?” I tightened my hold on the knife and pointed it at him.“Fine.” I said and turned back to the meat I was chopping up, Capello looked thoroughly amused and I wanted to throw the knife at him next.In the next hour, spaghetti and meatballs was ready, it possibly couldn’t get any Italian than that. I served the food and called them to the table, like the servant I was.I stood behind them, a creepy smile on my face as I watched them eat. Alejandro lifted his spoon to his mouth and paused when he saw my face. He frowned and took another look at his
Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner SCINTILLA
My brain seized functioning even as Alejandro rounded the corner, he stopped walking immediately he saw me standing like flagpole.“What are you doing here?” He peered behind me, looking straight at the door I was backing and frowned.When I didn’t answer, his frown only deepened, he took a step further and my flight or fight mode kicked in out of fear.I ran past him, downstairs and then into my room, my chest heaving as I crashed to the floor. If I hadn’t been running for my life, I would have laughed at the shocked expression on Alejandro’s face – but what the hell had I done?I ran my hand through my hair, I looked up when I remembered I was holding something, “Oh, this…” I almost chuckled to myself at how rumpled it looked now.“Wait…” I searched frantically through the papers and realised one was missing.“No no no no…” Of all the papers that could have gone missing, it was the one I’d drawn of him. My mind started to run through many possibilities.‘would he find it? And if he d
Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner RETRIBUTION
Alejandro’s POV“Find me the head of your sister’s killer and I’ll give you the keys to my kingdom.” My father’s voice bellowed harshly but his eyes were dead.We’d both witnessed the death of my sister at her wedding. It was a one hit shot taken with a sniper on the roof.There was an uproar and men and women fled the scene. My sister, Alia had died before we could get to her, her blood pooling everywhere.That day, everything in me died. The only innocence I’d ever come across was soaked in her own blood.Being in the most feared mafia in the country meant you hard to have balls of steel and an icy heart. However, watching your only daughter, my kid sister get shot in the head on her happiest day, that was a different ball game.We searched and searched for the killer but we found none. Just a clue that it was our rivals, the Russos. The only thing we had in common was our hatred for the other. We, the Amatos, had stayed at the top of the mafia ladder for centuries, never succumbing
Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner MAMMA MIA!
ARIANNA’S POV. “Don’t be rude!” I rolled my eyes at the lady in front of me who wanted a coffee. “Did you… did you all see that?” She looked around to see if people thought the same as her, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Ma’am, you’re holding up the line.” A tall man from behind sneered. She’d managed to change her order about 6 times already in a row and I was getting sick and tired of it, alongside the people behind her on the queue. ‘Just fucking place an order and go sit down somewhere.’ was what I intended saying but I kept my mouth shut. As much as I hated my job, it was the only thing I had and whether I liked it or not, we were in America and the customer was always right. I was about to ask her if she wanted any other thing else as politely as I could muster but U was cut offf by a loud boom. The next thing we heard was the shatter of glass and the wheezing o bullets. Screams and screeches erupted from across the building and pandemonium ensued. “Everybody get the
Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner DISCOVERED
I screamed as I felt something wet splash against my face. Blood but it wasn’t mine. Apparently, I wasn’t that ready to die. My shoulders hurt from the force of the body that had hit me.‘Wait, why wasn’t I dead yet?’ I looked around. The guy who’d held the trigger was on the floor by my side, eyes wide open in fear.Fibonacci was on his feet barking out orders, trying to figure out where the hit came from.Bullets began to rain from all sides and I ducked, just as Anselmo had taught me. The side of my head felt slippery to touch but I’d take concussion over splattered brain matter any day.When no one else dropped dead in the room I was in, I realised most of the gunshots and screams were from outside.‘Had I been saved? Perhaps by an angel’ Somehow, in the heat of things, I’d found the thought quite amusing.The door was forced open and two men came in. All that commotion outside because of two men?“Andrea, drop your weapons on the floor.” A deep voice boomed in the dark. The room
Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner IMPRISONED
My life took a huge turn. I was no longer Victoria the baker. I was Arianna Bocelli, Alejandro Amato’s prisoner.“Let me go.” I dug my feet into the ground as Capello pulled me along, ropes digging into my skin.I’d recovered from my momentary shock and become dangerously stupid as I continued to yell at men who wouldn’t bat an eyelash as they sent me to the world beyond.I was testing their patience really because Capello stopped walking and took off his tie. Who wore a suit to kill? I raised my eyebrow at him, wondering what he was doing. He rolled it up and grabbed my jaw, forcing it open. My eyes widened as I realised what he was about to do. I continued to move my head until I heard a gunshot that kept me still.A warning from Alejandro that wouldn’t be repeated twice. I didn’t even need to be gagged. My hands remained cuffed in front of me as I continued to stay still in the backseat of the car.“Where to Ale?”“Italia.”I didn’t need a translator for that. We were going to Ital
Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner ACCEPTANCE
I found myself staring at the staircase Alejandro had disappeared into and stood for a very long while.He’d left my mind reeling, what did he want from me? What the hell was going on? Every emotion I felt came rushing in at once and I found myself looking for the nearest bathroom.I ran through multiple doors before I finally found one. The fear of stinking of his house, made me hold in my vomit a bit longer till I could find the water closet.I heaved everything I’d ever eaten in the past couple of days, which was not much, into the toilet. When all I had left was air, I slumped against the tiles, my vision going out.I opened my eyes after what felt like days to me but was most likely minutes. A few hours ago, I was in Philadelphia, a place I hated with passion but had come to tolerate, because it was my only means of survival.At least, I had a job and a shack I called home. Not anymore. Not since Alejandro and Capello decided to walk in on my death sentence.I should’ve died that
Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner ESCAPE
I felt sweat drip over my face and run down my back onto the floor I’d just wiped. I cursed as I wiped the floor again.Alejandro was a fucking bastard. I’d not seen hide nor hair of his staffers, there was no way he was cleaning the entire house himself.My limbs were shaking by the time I was done with the third floor.“Fucking hell!” I breathed out. I was a quivering and soaking mess as I collapsed on the floor. I looked up at the ceiling where the cherubs were painted, the sight no longer looked funny to me.He was a devil, what did he need cherubs for? To justify his wickedness or restore some missing parts of his soul? I thought about my life in Philadelphia. It wasn’t the best but I actually enjoyed working at the bakery.Anselmo was almost like the father I lost and he allowed me to work for him. I spent most of the time away from my parents, cooped up in a school that didn’t like me much. My hair was a shade of brown I’d dyed over and over again because ginger was a signal fi
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Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner SCINTILLA
My brain seized functioning even as Alejandro rounded the corner, he stopped walking immediately he saw me standing like flagpole.“What are you doing here?” He peered behind me, looking straight at the door I was backing and frowned.When I didn’t answer, his frown only deepened, he took a step further and my flight or fight mode kicked in out of fear.I ran past him, downstairs and then into my room, my chest heaving as I crashed to the floor. If I hadn’t been running for my life, I would have laughed at the shocked expression on Alejandro’s face – but what the hell had I done?I ran my hand through my hair, I looked up when I remembered I was holding something, “Oh, this…” I almost chuckled to myself at how rumpled it looked now.“Wait…” I searched frantically through the papers and realised one was missing.“No no no no…” Of all the papers that could have gone missing, it was the one I’d drawn of him. My mind started to run through many possibilities.‘would he find it? And if he d
Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner ENSNARED
Capello was seated on the chair beside Alejandro while I was stuck in the kitchen, cooking. It was a welcome distraction for the event week I’d experienced at Alejandro’s house. They were speaking in Italian and it was pissing me off. Maybe if I had a phone… I slammed the knife hard on the chopping board… I would have google-translated a couple of those words and I wouldn’t worry if they were planning my death.“Can you ease up on the cooking?” I tightened my hold on the knife and pointed it at him.“Fine.” I said and turned back to the meat I was chopping up, Capello looked thoroughly amused and I wanted to throw the knife at him next.In the next hour, spaghetti and meatballs was ready, it possibly couldn’t get any Italian than that. I served the food and called them to the table, like the servant I was.I stood behind them, a creepy smile on my face as I watched them eat. Alejandro lifted his spoon to his mouth and paused when he saw my face. He frowned and took another look at his
Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner DEATH AND ITS WIELDER
For the next couple of days, I mourned Anselmo and avoided Alejandro like a plague. I didn’t cook and I didn’t clean anything, he could shoot me for all he wanted. He shouldn’t have killed an innocent man.I pushed back the part of my mind that threatened to question everything I knew, there was no fucking way that Anselmo was watching me for 4 years, it just wasn’t possible.I sighed as I got out of bed and prepared myself for the day. I realised that staying in my room all day and night just made me think up the worst things possible and I would welcome any distraction. The bathroom hosted me for almost an hour before I decided to get out. I picked out very short shorts and a tank top because the heat was still terrible, even my hair was up out of my face and up in a bun.I opened the door slightly, checking for any traces of Alejandro but the house was silent as night. I heaved a sigh of relief and found my way to the living room, it was empty as I suspected, there was no one in si
Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner THE CURSE OF A MAN
The room was dark but it had a staircase that led downstairs, it was the weirdest thing I’d ever come across in my life.If one was going to have a dungeon, surely it’d be built from the ground floor and down.I tried as much as possible to not fall on my face but the stairs seemed endless until I could hear a few murmurs from below me.I frowned at the sound and wondered who was around. Last I checked, only Alejandro and I were around but I was hearing multiple voices.“Per favore, non lo so!” (Please, I don’t know anything!) That voice sounded very familiar, way too familiar.“Bugiardo! Lo so tutto.” ( Liar! I know everything.) It was clear who roared and I feared what I was walking into but I couldn’t stop walking. I was at the bottom staircase where backs were turned to me.I didn’t need to see the face to know whose body it belonged to, Capello and Alejandro had quite different physiques.They both stood as though they were ready for war and I got a sickening sense of deja vu, the
Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner CONFLICTIONS
After I woke up from my sleep, I dragged my hands over my face feeling very sore. The room was in the state I’d left it and I groaned.I spent a good hour trying to get the room back to what it was before my outburst. It was still quite early but if I wanted to have the place ‘sparkling’ for my jailor, I couldn’t go back to sleep.Once I was done, I went into the main living area and saw Alejandro sipping what seemed to be coffee, but that wasn’t what caught my attention.It was the bags on the chair, there were several and my brows shot up to the roof of my head.‘Are you travelling?’ I wanted to ask but I was giving him the silent treatment for what he’d done so far.Instead, I completely ignored him and went into the pantry to get started on work – his work. Before I could take two steps forward, he spoke.“These are yours.” I snapped my head towards him and confirmed that he was actually talking to me.“What?” He gave me a look and I rolled my eyes at him. He didn’t repeat himself
Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner THE DEVIL YOU KNOW
I groaned as I turned, my headache banging with so much pain. I sat up and tried to move my legs so I could use the toilet but I heard a loud jangle. My legs couldn't move. I opened my eyes "What the fuck!" One of my legs was chained to the bed post. "Hey!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs despite having a headache. "Let me the fuck out of these chains. I'm not a fucking slave!" When I didn’t hear anything, I started grabbing whatever I could find and threw it against the door. How did I even end up at his house? The last thing I remembered was... Slowly, everything came rushing back, the lady who tried to hand me over to Alejandro and I ran away only to end up back in his house. I grabbed the lamp and threw it, I hadn't expected the door to swing open right at that time. Alejandro ducked just in time and the lamp went right outside, and shattered behind him. He didn't bother looking back, he narrowed his eyes at me and my hands fell to the side. Maybe if it had hit him r
Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner DANGER OUTSIDE HOME
I walked into the road and I was amazed at the colours that greeted me, the city was so alive and bright. I almost bumped into someone and they apologised first. It was a culture shock, considering where I lived for all my life, I definitely would’ve been cussed out for it.“Okay, now what?” I asked myself as I looked ahead of the bustling city. I had no money on me so I couldn’t get a cab, I also couldn’t afford to look lost in this kind of place. Chances were, people knew who Capello was and if he was searching for me, they wouldn’t hesitate to tell him they saw a little crazy-eyed girl walking around.I picked up my pace, the first thing I needed to do was to get as far away from Capello as quickly as I could.After walking for what felt like hours, but probably minutes due to my hurt leg, I rounded the corner of another street. Why the hell were there so many streets?I looked around and stopped, a shiver running down my spine. It might have been years ago, but I remembered the st
Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner ITALIA
I wondered how long I just sat there, staring at him. Alejandro wasn’t bad to look at, hell, he was very good looking to say the least but I was more propelled by fear to run as fast as possible when he was in the same vicinity as me.He looked like he was about to say something when the door creaked open, Capello walked in, his gaze bouncing from me to Alejandro.“You’re taking her shopping.” My jaw fell open in surprise but Capello wasn’t. In fact, he looked quite upset.“That’s not what you said over the phone.” He scowled and then turned to me, who was on the edge of my seat, expecting him to divulge the details of their earlier call. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to know if he’d really said he was going to shoot me.Alejandro simply raised a brow at him and folded his arms.“Well, I’m not taking her.”“I thought it was a fucking emergency Ale. What does she need clothes for?” I cocked my head in anger.“She, is right here and she isn’t some 12th century slave. What is your problem?
Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner EL DIAVOLO
Much to my dismay, I actually left the gun on the table. Whether or not he’d actually forgotten it, he would later realise it was gone at some point, and come looking for it. I didn’t want to test his self-control, especially now, when I could barely walk or run away.Yes, I was still going to run away and I would be wiser about it.My leg was quite swollen but I somehow found my way to the fridge and brought out an ice pack. I hissed as the cold material touched my leg.‘Almost run me over and then almost touch my leg like you are capable of feeling empathy.’ I muttered to myself. I was beyond pissed but more at myself for underestimating his callousness.I ended up sleeping against the fridge because moving was a fucking pain in the ass.I opened my eyes when I heard movement not too far off, I groaned sleepily and dragged my feet from under me.Immediately I moved head slightly, I saw his figure standing close to me, I stumbled backwards out of shock. He didn’t seem fazed though bu
