Page 27 of Giovanni the Savage

I take my phone from the nightstand, and my headache worsens when I see the caller ID. Instantly, every trace of sleep vanishes, and I’m alert when I see Lucas on my screen. However, the call ends just as I’m about to pick it up.

We’ve been talking nonstop since the attack. I remember the relief I felt when I saw that his chest was rising and falling, albeit slowly. However, he had to return to his school apartment because it was test week.

His sudden call makes me regret not insisting that he stayed at my house despite his stubbornness. There’s not much you can do when a twenty-one-year-old insists they want to do something.

“Fuck. What’s wrong now?” I ask more to God than myself.

I could use a break from the games right now.

Just as I’m about to call back, a text notification appears on my screen, and I tap on it immediately. I see it’s from Lucas.

“Can you come over? It’s urgent, please.”

I groan into my pillow, mentally readying myself to go out at two in the morning.

The text doesn’t look urgent, and the doctor assured me that Lucas was okay, but I can’t help the uneasy feeling.

In an instant, I’m out of bed. I get dressed on autopilot and rush out of the door, clutching my purse and phone to my ear while still trying to reach Lucas. The calls are going straight to voicemail, making me more irritable.

At him, at myself, at the whole fucking world for not giving me a break.

I frantically flag down the first taxi but feel a tap on my shoulder just before I get in.

I’m so tired that I turn to tell the person off, but what greets me is a sharp, painful smack to my temple.

A shrill scream leaves my lips because of the pain from the impact, and I drop to the floor with a loud thud. The pain is enough to split my head in two, and I can feel blood oozing out of me. My eyes are closing slowly, and right before they do, I’m shoved into the car's back seat before everything goes blank.

The voices in the background fade. All I can smell is death.

******

I gasp loudly when I feel iced liquid dousing me generously. I splutter and spit out the water, and just as I try to get my hair out of my face, I realize I can’t move my hand because it’s restrained.

I look down to realize both of my hands are strapped to the arms of a chair, and my legs are tied tightly at the ankles. Just as I lift my head back up, I’m reminded of my splitting headache that never left in the first place.

“Fucking hell!” I groan.

I try to make a sound, but my mouth has been sealed shut, and I can only whimper.

Where am I?

My blurry eyes scan my environment, and I shiver at the mere sight. I’m in what looks like some kind of shitty basement. If only it was shitty with wrappers or some shit. It’s shitty with blood. There’s blood everywhere on the dirty walls and the floor. My chair is the only furniture in the small room; the only light source is a round, fist-sized hole in the wall. I’m also the only person inside.

What happened?

I come up blank when I try to remember why I got here. With a little more effort, I remember waking up to my phone beeping and then the text from …

Lucas. Fuck, I hope he’s alright.

I don’t remember making it to his apartment because this certainly isn’t it. I finally trace the source of my headache to being hit in the head by a faceless intruder.

Then, realization dawns. I’ve been kidnapped.

Oh, shit!

That’s the mantra in my head while I still frantically look around the room for any source of life.

My stomach chooses that instant to growl hungrily, reminding me that I’ve not had anything in what feels like days. There are no other bruises on my body from what I can see, so there can only be one reason why I’ve been kidnapped.

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