Page 7 of Pocketful of Us

"I want to go home," I cried out hoarsely. "Now!"

"And where is home, Ramona?" Raffaele called back. "Back to your father? The man who traded your life for his?"

"No!" I hissed, trembling violently. "I want to go back to Sketch."

"Ah, yes, the boyfriend," I heard him muse. "I hate to tell you this, but the probability of your companion still being alive after taking a bullet to the chest is slim."

"No!" Terror sliced through me at the thought. "You don’t know that!" Balling my hands into fists, I screamed, "Sketch would never leave me!"

"Open the door."

"No!"

"Open it now."

"Fuck you –"

I instantly froze, my words dying on my tongue, as the sound of a gunshot pierced my eardrums.

Moments later, the door – minus its handle – swung limply inwards, and there he was in all his glory, dressed in Armani and armed with a pistol.

My captor.

The man I had no doubt would end my life.

Strolling into the bathroom like he didn’t have a care in the world, Raffaele tossed a towel at me, looking entirely unimpressed with what he saw.

Thank God…

Unsure of what else to do, I draped the towel around my naked body and watched in horror as my captor moved for the sink, attention riveted on the plastic stick.

"Well," Raffaele finally mused, turning to lean against the vanity. "This is an unfortunate development." Shoving his hands into the pockets of his suit pants, he released a heavy sigh. "When I agreed to take Calisto's daughter in exchange for his son, I did not anticipate that she would be carrying his grandchild."

My whole world felt like it had fallen away beneath my feet. "I-It's positive?" I dared to ask, feeling weak to the bone.

"Sí," Raffaele replied, pushing off the vanity and moving for the door. "Congratulations, Ramona. You are growing Calisto's bastard grandchild inside of your womb." With a shake of his head, he tutted softly to himself. What an unfortunate turn of events."

"Wh-what do you mean?" I strangled out, terrified.

"It means that the stakes have changed," he replied, giving me his back as he walked away. "I can never let you go now."

4

Sketch

Iwanted to go home.

It was the very last thing I should want considering the fact that I didn’t have one anymore, never really had one to begin with, but that's how I felt.

If I had a wish in that moment, I knew it would be to go back in time and unlearn everything I now regrettably knew.

Christ, I was beyond messed up in the head.

I didn’t want tonotbe his son.

I didn’t want tonothave a brother.

I didn’t want to bealone.

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