Page 63 of Alessia
“What’s on it?” I’m getting impatient.
“Amore mio Alessia, come Sunday she’ll disappear and I will come for you.” Luca reads out loud.
“There’s a time on here as well. It says eight p.m.”
“Find out anything you can that will happen on Sunday at eight p.m. Check the underground circuit as well. There must be some chatter on the dark web.”
“Yes Ma’am, I’m on it.”
“Send me anything you can find, even if it feels like it’s nothing worth mentioning.” I hang up the phone and dial Elio to give him an update. He tells me he’s reaching out to some old friends to see if they’ve heard anything.
I need this to give us a lead.
I need to find her.
I need her home.
I can’t fall apart, not until she’s back in my arms and safe.
21 - Harper
Two weeks.
It’s been two whole weeks since my life changed and I became a shell of the person I once was. Two weeks of torture, starvation and rape.
My wish to die hasn’t changed, if anything, it became bigger. When I’m not being fucked until I can’t breathe anymore by Gianni, Manchini or one of their minions I lie in my bed bleeding and crying. Bruises paint my skin; my body is aching from the beating they give me with whips and canes. At least they give me time to sleep and shower. Meals have been cut down to one a day. They say I need to look my thinnest so that they can get a decent price for me.
Each sound outside my so-called room startles me. I’m getting more and more paranoid each day. I know I should find a way to get out of this hell with Anna but I can’t find the strength. Anna doesn’t deserve to be here;Idon’t deserve to be here. Something inside me just… Broke… That’s the only way I can describe it.
I hear the locks on my door turn and the guy with the neck tattoo walks in. He became one of my regulars these past weeks. Even though he fucks me like it’s his last day on earth he does have a softer side. Every time, after he’s done with me, he cleans me up before he leaves. It’s about the only kindness I get from the men in here. I know his name is Gabriele by now, he likes it when I scream his name. Whether it’s from pain or pleasure doesn’t matter.
“Good evening, Harper.” His voice is low and the accent seems thicker now that we’re in Italy.
“Hi, Gabriele.” I fake my best smile and turn to lie on my back.
“How are you tonight?”
This is new, he’s never been the one for small talk and pleasantries.
“Real or fake answer?” I ask carefully.
“The truth, please.”
“I’m hurting and I want to go home.” Tears fill my eyes and before I know it, they glide down my cheeks onto the pillow.
