Owned (Dellucci Mafia Duet)

This place hasn’t been cleaned in quite a while.

I check the fridge, but there is nothing inside, and it doesn’t seem turned on. Then I check the lights. No electricity either. But when I turn on the faucet, water does come out. Lucky me.

Another breeze makes my teeth clatter. I have to find something to keep me warm. Maybe I can make a fire.

Entering the living room, I find a couch, a few cozy-looking seats, and a small television that obviously won’t be working, as well as a fireplace in the corner. There’s still some wood inside, unburned, and it doesn’t seem old like the rest of the stuff.

Maybe I wasn’t the first person to seek refuge here.

Still, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

A small box of matches sits on top of the fireplace, so I light one up and throw it in. It takes a while for the fire to spread and burn the wood, so I wait around to warm myself near the fire. Shadows dance on the walls behind me, and I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing I’ll be safe here … at least for tonight.

I don’t know what I’m going to do after this or where I’m going to go.

But I’m too tired to think about it right now.

I search for a blanket and find one in a broken-down cabinet. The old woven fabric smells musty but is otherwise in good condition. I settle down on the couch, using my bag as a pillow, and fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.

When I wake up, my eyes immediately open wide, and I shoot up on the couch. I thought I had dreamed that I stumbled into an abandoned home to make a fire and fall asleep on an old, shoddy couch. Turns out it wasn’t a dream, and waking up from this slumber only reveals a bigger nightmare.

What am I even doing here?

I throw the blanket off and slap myself awake. This is no place for a girl to stay. What if someone finds me here? This could be a drug house or maybe even something worse.

I can’t stay here.

I get up and grab some water with a pan to douse the flames in the fireplace before I refill one of the canisters I had in my bag with water. It’ll last me a few hours at least. Enough to get out of this hellhole. I just need to find a new place to stay, somewhere safe and protected with actual electricity and without mice hiding out in the corners.

Even if I do find another home, this city will never be safe. Not with Marcello running this place. As a powerful don, he has eyes and ears in every corner. I just cannot take the chance.

I have to get out.

So I pack up my things and leave the house as quickly as possible, determined never to come back.

I don’t know where I’m going to go or how I’m going to get there, but I will find a way. It’s already a miracle that I slipped away under his eye, let alone the fact that I managed to escape his grasp when he was right behind me, following me through this very city. Sometimes, I wonder why he hasn’t caught me yet, but I shouldn’t think those things—it’ll only bring bad luck.

I have to focus on where I am right now. Lost in a city without any means of transportation or money, and with too few supplies to last even a day. Could I go somewhere to ask for help? A shelter perhaps or even a relative? No, I’m sure Marcello has them all under watch because he’d expect me to go there.

But what can I do? I walk around the city aimlessly, not knowing where to go or who to talk to. Every time I try to open my mouth to speak to someone, I stop without uttering a single word. I’m terrified I might end up saying the wrong thing, leading me right back into the lion’s den. Any of them could be one of Marcello’s snitches. I can’t trust anyone. Not here.

So I keep walking, walking, walking until I’m overcome with sorrow and despair, wondering if I’m ever going to get out of this mess or if I was already doomed to fail from the moment I decided to leave him.

Maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe it was better if I had stayed. At least then, I’d still have a comfy room, a soft bed, a warm meal, and a nice bath.

I shake my head and force the thoughts to disappear as I find myself loitering at a bus station, looking for change.

Suddenly, a clean-cut man in a trench coat bumps into me.

“Sorry,” he mutters under his breath, his face barely visible underneath a nicely cut beard, but before I can say anything, he continues his brisk walk.