Protected By the Monster

I stood there, heart racing, body quivering, wondering what the fuck happened in here.

I couldn’t imagine my uncle did this. I mean, it made no sense. He knew that I didn’t have any cash and hadn’t actually been paid by Fazio yet. Uncle Luciano probably knew more about the money than I did, and I couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d bother breaking the place into pieces.

I kicked through the things on the floor, walked over to my nightstand. My junk drawer was tipped over, spilling pens and pencils, old erasers and paperclips, two dead iPhones and a Blackberry from when I was in college. I took one of the iPhones, the one I thought might work even though it had a cracked screen, and slipped it into my pocket. I stood back up, stepped over a cigarette butt, kicked through some glass.

My clothes were ripped to shreds, like someone was trying to destroy it all on purpose.

“What the fuck happened here?” I said, and as I stepped back toward the hallway, my mind racing, trying to figure out what I should do, I realized that I had made an enormous mistake.

I walked back toward the kitchen, but before I could formulate a plan for where to go next, I heard a noise downstairs.

The inner door opened the, shut with a bang.

But that shouldn’t have been an issue. The door locked automatically, and the only people with keys were my neighbors. An older woman lived below me, and a young couple with a little baby had the entire third floor to themselves.

Heavy, stomping steps came up the stairs.

I felt uneasy. Something about the ransacked apartment and the cadence of the steps left me with a bitter taste in my mouth. I walked to my door and hesitated, listening. The steps came closer, stomping up to the second floor, and I ducked back away from the opening, my heart racing. Sweat rolled down my back, anxious and noxious. I grabbed the handle and yanked the door shut.

Just as the person on the stairs lunged forward.

I grabbed the handle. I let out a scream, unable to help myself, and pulled the door as hard as I could. But just like with Luca, the person outside pushed and pushed, shoving the door open and open. I cried out, straining as hard as I could, but I couldn’t stop it.

I saw a man with tan, leathery skin, buzzed black hair, deep brown eyes, a crooked, sharp nose, and thin lips. He grinned at me as he shoved his head inside and threw the door open, knocking me back. I stumbled and ran into the wall as he stood in the doorway and laughed.

He wore baggy jeans and a plaid button-down with the cuffs undone and rolled once. He reached for something behind him, something tucked into his belt, and I instinctively knew what it was.

I turned and ran.

“Stop,” he said. “Don’t run, girly. Don’t make this hard.”

I ran to the bathroom, but he followed. I tried to get inside, hoping I could lock the door, but he grabbed me, threw me against the wall. I gasped as my head hit. He punched me in the gut, grabbed my wrists, and dragged me back to the living room.

“Please,” I said. “Let me go. I don’t have anything. I can’t do anything.”

“I know what you have,” he said. “I know exactly what you have. Stop crying, just shut up, okay? Just shut the fuck up and I won’t hurt you.”

His arms were wiry and thin but he was surprisingly strong. He threw me on the floor in the living room and I winced as I landed next to a pile of glass. I sat up and stared at him as he took a gun from his belt and pointed it at my face.

I sniffled and bit down on my tongue to stop myself from crying more.

“That’s better,” he said. “Now, you’re going to come with me, do you understand? You have something my bosses want.”

“I don’t know who you are,” I said, choking on the words. “I don’t know what you want.”

“Stop playing that game,” he said. “It won’t work. Now get up and start walking.”

I climbed to my feet and felt a stab of pain on the back of my right thigh. I grimaced and looked back, only to find a long piece of glass sticking out of my skin. I plucked it away and tossed it on the floor as the man stepped forward and grabbed my arm.

“Enough of this,” he said. “You stupid, silly girl. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been sitting outside of this apartment?”

“Please let me go,” I said. “I’ll give you anything.”

“You’ll give it either way.” He pushed me to the door. “Stupid, stupid girl. I’ve been eating fast food in my car for the last three days. Slept in the back seat like a homeless man. I stink, you smell me? I stink like dying cat.”