Page 94 of The Diávolos: Part One
Six months later
Angelica
My eyes fly up over my laptop, and I glare at the person standing right in front of me, disrupting my beautiful view of Hasting Park. I let out a sound of frustration. “Do you mind, D-bag?”
“You’ve been such a pleasure to be around for the past six months, Ang. I’msoglad to have you back,” Daniel says sweetly.
We’re at a small cafe in the Park on a Friday afternoon. I’ve been coming here almost every day. I don’t know if I can confidently say I’ve moved back to Antium, but I’ve been here for half a year already, and I’m not sure whether I’ll ever return to Cebrene. I like it here, it’s calm.
I always sit at the same two-person table, right against the window, overlooking the main path that’s surrounded by large American Elm trees. I’ve been writing. Not necessarily a novel, but my story, my thoughts, my memories. You could call it a memoir of some sort. I don’t want to publish it, but my therapist says journaling can help. You know, to remember everything I’ve been through so I can work through it. I’m getting better and my memories are getting clearer, but I’m still in a state of avoidance. I’m not scared to face the demons inside me, but I’m terrified to face the ones who liveoutside.
I haven’t spoken to mybabasince running away. It’s kind of giving medéjà vu. But the day will come, and I will be ready.
Evander has been a constant shadow, reminiscent of the time he used to stalk me. The only difference is that this time, I know he’s the one in the darkness. For the first two months, he left me alone. I never saw him, he didn’t make his presence clear, and we never interacted. But something shifted and he began to makeappearances. I’d catch glimpses of him outside of my apartment, the coffee shop, the gym. We still haven’t spoken, though. It kills me inside, but I know it’s for the best. I still love him. I don’t think I’ll ever stop. He’s the blood that runs in my veins, my lifeline.
I look over to Danny, who has now taken the second chair at my table. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t happy I was around,” I state with confidence, and he scoffs.
“Whatever. Still writing that autobiography of yours?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. “Yes.”
My friends have been supportive of my project. Even Aria and Gianis are involved. They’re the only two people from home that I’ve been in contact with. We’ve had many discussions about our childhood, but there’s still a lot to unpack.
“Good,” he responds, sounding sincere, and we grin at each other.
Daniel pulls out a book from his bag and reads next to me while I type away.
Hours later, we decide to leave. My stomach has been growling for the past hour. Daniel wants to head home, but I need to grab food first. “I’ll meet you at your place,” I shout as he crosses the street to catch the train. He gives me a salute before disappearing in the station.
I walk down the secluded path in Hasting Park. It’s not dark yet, but the immense trees with full leaves obstruct the little sun left. It’s a bit windy, so I close my sweater and hug myself to warm up. Not many people use this trail, but I’ve come here enough times to know it ends at the corner of Duylumus and Fortify Street, where my favorite taco shop is located. Just the thought of food makes my stomach clench. I haven’t eaten since this morning.
As I walk, I sense a presence behind me. My initial response is to freeze, but if anyone is following me, I wouldn’t want them to think I’m scared.Fear is nothing but a state of mind, I repeat internally. I take a quick breath in and force myself to keep going and not turn around. I slightly increase the speed of my steps. I can see the streetlight at the end of the path from where I stand.
But the feeling of being followed persists. I glance around using my peripherals, but there’s no one in sight. I want to grab my phone, but looking down is the worst thing I could do right now.
My mind begins to reel. What if someone is out to kidnap me like last time? Could Hendrick have heard I was back in town? I wonder if he’s still trying to get to my father. It wouldn’t be smart to take me a second time, but mobsters are unpredictable.
I reach into my pocket, anyway, and quickly pull out my phone. It’s 6:56 p.m. The sun is setting by the minute. Soon, it will be dark. I should hurry and get out of the park, but instead, I decide to mess with whoever is following me and make a sharp turn into the trees. It’s definitely not smart of me to derail from the path, but I need to dosomething.
I hear footsteps getting louder and my heartbeat increases tenfold.
I turn around and back into a tree. I sling my backpack forward, pull out my glock and cock it, pointing it in front of me. I’ve started carrying a handgun instead of a knife. “Whoever you are, it’s best if you leave me alone,” I try to say in a steady voice. My mind goes to Evan; I wish he were here. I’m not sure to what extent he’s been keeping an eye on me, but now would be a good time to show himself.
No one responds to my threat, and I no longer hear any footfalls. I let out a sigh of relief. Maybe I scared the person away by taking out my gun.Or maybe no one is actually following you and you’ve become too paranoid.
As I’m about to put the weapon in the waistband of my pants, someone puts their arm around my neck from the back and pins me to the tree. My breath gets stolen and I choke. I attempt to aim my gun behind me, but it gets snatched out of my grip. “Leave me alone. When I get out of this hold, I’m going to kill you,” I croak. I’m angry. I’m tired of people trying to hurt me. Haven’t I suffered enough?
“Not if I kill you first,” the stranger responds and my body immediately reacts to the voice.
A man appears from behind the tree. He’s wearing a black balaclava, but there’s no mistaking those hazel eyes. They pierce through my soul, just as they’ve done many times before. I start shaking. In fear? Anticipation? I’m confused, but my heart rate continues to increase, my chest visibly expanding with every shallow breath.
He pulls a rope out from his pocket and ties it around me and the tree. Then, he takes the rest and ties my wrists together. I’m now fully bound to the trunk, and I can’t move. I squirm against the restraint, but I know it won’t do anything except hurt me. My wrists will be the last to feel pain, though. The skin there is used to friction.
My assailant rips my sweater open and shoves my shirt down from the collar, exposing my breasts to the cool air, and my nipples harden right away. He grunts loudly and slaps them both, eliciting a moan out of me. I can’t help it. He always knows how to bring out these reactions from me.
He pinches each pebbled bud between his fingers and twists them lightly. I hiss.
“Fuck. These tits are fucking beautiful,” his low voice rasps out as he lowers his mouth to my right breast. He captures my nipple between his teeth and pulls. A pool of wetness gathers between my legs. I wiggle a bit more against the rope. I’m starting to get uncomfortable now.
