THREE MONTHS LATER
**UGOGetting out of the the Garden after months of being kept in and guarded twenty-four-seven was reason enough to put some extra care into my appearance.It's been months since I left the confines of this place. There had been dark days throughout those couple of months. Hollis wasn't always around. I knew they were trying to set things straight.But I had no idea how they were going about it, until my husband came home to me with a bullet wound. My heart almost ripped through my chest.But, he insisted he was okay. And that was the last time he ever left me home alone."The deed has been done, everything has been taken care of." Maxine had said to me on one of his visits.I still miss Castello, terribly, painfully. His memories remained embedded in my heart.Taking a look at myself in the mirror, I smiled. We were going to see my parents, it was my mother's birthday.Of course, I wanted to look nice, not just b"Your wife?" My father came closer. "I didn't stutter. You heard me. Yes, my wife," Hollis said in a firm voice, erasing the distance between them. "Hollis..." I called, pressing a hand into his stomach. Sensing the plea in my face or my voice, his jaw loosened. "I'll go get you a glass of juice." He offered. "I'll like that," I said, nodding, giving him my silent gratitude. "I’ll be right back," he replied, squeezing me gently on the hip, before walking off. "I hoped you’d be happy to see me," I said to my father as soon as Hollis left, but I noticed that his gaze followed Hollis until he heard me speak. I didn't try to hide the vulnerability in my voice. I was upset. And I wasn’t accustomed to hiding that around my family. "Oh, my baby." My father called, his anger falling and getting replaced almost immediately with sadness. "Of course, I’m happy to see you," he started reaching for me. "Are you okay?" He asked, holding me tight
HOLLIS Whoever brought up the idea of carving that awful-looking image of Einstein must either be dumb or extremely stupid because they made a whole mess of the image and also made it so obvious that the faux wall really had to be a door. Bloody hand raised, I waited for Rocco to hand me a reloaded gun. The cold feel of a semi-automatic grazed my fingers and I smiled. "There's nobody inside. Aside from the few securities we've already taken care of, the house is clean." Rocco, my right-hand man, reported. I smiled, knowing that my suspicion might be true then. I simply shifted my gaze to him. Today was just the fucking day I've been looking forward to. A good day to teach Velcro and his stupid brother some hard lessons and knock some senses into them while at it, if they survive anyway. "Nero, stay out here with the rest of the men and be alert. I'll notify you if we need more men." Nero nodded and dished out inaudible orders to the rest of the men with his fingers while
UGO I climbed down carefully from the grey van that picked me up from the house. I was going to see a cartel Boss. So there are quite a lot of things that could happen today. It's either I end up dead or I succeed in striking a good deal that will keep my father alive and give my family enough time to pay up the crazy-absurd debt they leveled against my Father. If the stars are in my favor, the money might even be forgiven. But in all, one of these things was going to happen today, and I prayed my dead body wouldn't be drawn out of the industrial-looking premises. As I stood looking around, I got a nudge behind from one of the men. "Move!" He barked at me and like a crippled roach revealed by a light from a handheld torch. I had to put both of my feet to good use. One of the men walked in front, leading the way, while two others walked behind me. "Stop." A voice from a guard stationed at the gate said to us. "She's going to go in blindfolded." He read out a rehearsed in
There was a flash of light and distant noises. My head felt like someone was taking an ice pick and pouring heavy chipping on my skull. I decided that death couldn’t be this painful, so I'm probably not dead or is this what hell is supposed to feel like. My eyes pried open, and a light came flashing again. This was followed by a groan, like a bear cub. 'was that me?' I managed to flutter my eyes open without anyone’s help. Inches away from my face, someone was holding a pen-sized flashlight. I couldn’t focus enough to see him, but I could definitely smell him. Light scent of woodberry and some chemicals I remember enduring the mixing process once I snuck into the chemistry laboratory during practicals that were meant for students offering science courses. The ceiling was swimming. I thought I was going to vomit, and I had to let my eyelids drop to stop the spinning. Slowly, the muffled sounds became words. "What’s your name, sweetheart." Asked the man with the flashlight.
With a stiff neck, I scanned my surroundings. there wasn’t much to decipher. I was in a small room, lit only by the bedside lamp that was on the table next to the bed. There was an armchair with a rose velvet cushion in one corner. The walls were bland and frameless. After waiting for another bout of nausea to pass, I went to the window, holding on to the small table as support for my shaky frame. Outside, a yellow cab was waiting at a red light on an otherwise empty street. I couldn’t decide if I was still in Lilycity. I thought I had a fair recognition of the clock tower that stood at the center of the city square, but it was too distant and I was too tired to be sure. My hand pressed against the glass. I closed my eyes until the dizziness passed, then slowly and painfully moved to the door of the bedroom and placed my ear against its smooth white surface. I could hear a Television echoing in the background and hushed voices, but nothing else. I twisted the doorknob, expecti
The next time I woke up, the sun was already setting. I was feeling better, rested, though my joints and muscles ached from the lack of movement. As for the bump on my head, it was only sensitive to touch. there was no more throbbing. The bedroom door had been left open. As soon as the smell of food tickled my nose, my stomach grumbled. The last meal I had eaten was the vegetable sauce my mother made specially for me. How long ago was that? My brain was still too foggy to count back the hours or the days. The thought of my mother sent chills down my spine. I haven't heard from my parents and I knew they would be worried sick. Letting my stomach do the thinking, I got out of bed and shuffled to the door barefooted. The only source of light came from the other end of the hall. I passed a small, white-tiled foyer and what looked like a front door, or a way to escape. The door had five different locks on it. I kept going while I tried to calculate how long it would take me to g
I was awakened by the distant sound of the television. Immediately I opened my eyes, I saw Maxine cropped up on a chair at the end of the room. "Welcome back to the land of the living," he muttered. "Where are we?" I croaked, sitting up on the bed and surveying the empty room that had only a bed and a television. Maxine stretched his arms, and sighed. "Home, The Garden." "Thank God." I sighed, before realizing what he meant. "You mean your home is referred to as The Garden?" "Mhmm." He hummed. "Gross." I spat out. "It's a good name." He stood up. "Hollis totally owe me for this." He murmured and left the room, not even saying a goodbye or any other word. My throat felt raw, and my body, emotionally exhausted. I could feel dark isolation seeping through the room like deep depression. I just wanted to go home, to go shopping, boat cruises, clubhouses and the courtroom. I wanted my life back. But even I know I couldn't. Not with the continuous attempt on my life and
Rocco and I followed the overly large corridor and came to the foot of the stairs. We climbed the stairs quietly. He kept mute all through while I hung my head low, tired and withdrawn. We made it through the double rows of stairs and came to a closed door. Rocco placed his thumb in a scanner placed beside the wall and the door clicked open. When he closed it behind me, he tried to flash a smile but decided against it. Maybe because It didn't seem like I was interested. "The door is bulletproof," he told me. But I didn't respond. We passed through a quiet, smaller, short corridor and came to another closed door. He punched a couple of numbers, and just like the other one, the door opened up again, and we stepped into the most lovely sitting room I've ever set my eyes on. I don’t know what I thought the home of a man like Hollis would be like. But this was definitely the real definition of wealth. It was homey. I guess I thought a man like him would be all about that awful, in