I should've stayed in bed

I hummed to myself, kicking a rock in front of me as I trudged down the shoulder of 37th Street. It was really late, probably some time past 1am, and the streets were dark and deserted. I'd already accepted the fact that I was probably going to be murdered as soon as I turned down here, but it was shorter this way and I was really tired.

I spun around in a little circle as I walked, trying to keep my brain focused. To anyone peaking out of a window I probably looked insane, turning around in circles and humming loudly, but it all helped me stay on task.

I hadn't taken my medication this morning, once again.

Hearing the hum of a car, I stopped my spinning and squinted down the road. I couldn't see anyone, but then again, the streetlights were few and far between. I shrugged and kept walking, but without the circles this time. I wasn't dumb enough to think that there couldn't be anyone waiting to kill me, but I wanted to get home. My frozen burrito was waiting for me.

The hum of a car got louder as I approached an ally, and suddenly I felt just how deserted the street was. No one could hear me scream.

I heard muffled voices and I slowed, creeping around and putting my back up against the wall. Something told me that I should just haul butt out of there, but that wasn't any fun. I heard laughter as I pressed myself as far into the bricks as I could, straining to hear. The night was abruptly silent.

It was at that moment I knew I messed up.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here." A tall figure approached me, their face shadowed. Two other figures appeared as well, both of them large masses of what looked like muscle. I couldn't tell since the nearest lamp post was at least a hundred yards away.

"Don't mind me, just making my way home." I laughed nervously, scooting along the wall away from them.

"Looks to me like you were spying."

I don't think he really heard what I said.

"Well lucky for you, I never hear anything." Giving him my best smile, I turned and bolted. I didn't get very far. A pair of strong hands grabbed my arms, yanking me back.

"Oh you're not going anywhere, little Russian bambola."

(Translation: Doll)

I flailed around, kicking my legs as two men dragged me away, their grips like vices. They blindfolded me, and I could only hear the sounds of my feet smacking into the ground, as I tried to run. Not like I could go anywhere. I felt something cold press into my temple, and I stopped moving, going still.

"Is that a gun?" All I got in response was a grunt, sounding slightly amused. "Fine you can let go of me now. I'll stop."

One of the guys snorted, and I turned my head in his direction, trying to gauge where the sound was coming from.

"As if we'd let you go just like that." He had a thick, cheesy Italian accent.

Get it?

Like cheese, and Italian food?

Never mind.

Slowly, I began put two and two together. Kidnapping pretty girls, lots of guns, probably on drugs, (I could smell weed), and thick Italian accents. "Oh my God, are you guys in the mafia?"

"Smart girl, isn't she?"

Then something hard hit my head and my body went limp.

..................

I think I sat in the back of a van, as it rattled back and forth. I don't think they knew I had woken up yet, but it was impossible to stay asleep, considering how bumpy the road was. I heard them speaking rapid fire Italian to each other every once and in a while. Little did they know, I spoke fluent Italian.

Muahaha.

So far I'd picked up that I was a bitch and that I wasn't worth the trouble. Ha. Serves them right, this is just the beginning.

I heard the popping of a beer bottle being opened.

"Ne vuoi un po?" Why yes, I would like some. I didn't say that though, because the fact that I spoke four languages fluently would be our little secret for now. I was also gagged, so I couldn't even if I wanted to.

I had a tiny bit of a problem with alcohol. It all started when my parents died and my brother went missing, but it had gotten even worse after I was diagnosed. Being kidnapped was probably one of the better things to happen to me, assuming this was all real, and I hadn't finally cracked and was sitting in an insane asylum, rolling around in my straitjacket. It was perfect timing too, since the next day rent was due, and my bank account had a total of $18.67.

Just enough for some Taco Bell.

Now, I'm just going out on a limb here, but if this was real and I was just kidnapped by the Mafia, it's probably because they thought I was spying. Or maybe a prostitute, but considering I was wearing sweatpants and a baggy sweater, I highly doubted that. I guess that's what happens when you dated the underboss of the American Mafia.

My life was just one big fun-fest wasn't it.

Now, I just had to find out who kidnapped me, what they wanted, and then if they didn't kill me, make their lives a living hell. I didn't really have much to go back to anyways. I didn't have any friends, pretty much all of my family is dead, and it's not like I have any stuff back at my tiny apartment, besides my burrito. Sad, I know, but at least I could annoy these people without worrying about the consequences.

This could be fun. I loved annoying people. It was one of my strong suits.

..................

This drive was taking forever, and I really had to pee. I considered yelling at the guys to pull over, but I didn't think they'd take kindly to it. Maybe I could just whisper-shout. Or manifest and make them have to go too, so I could hop out with them.

The van jerked to a stop and I rolled forward, smashing my shoulder into the ground. Did it work? I heard muted talking from outside the van and then the swoosh of back doors opening.

A breeze hit my face, and I sucked the fresh air in, relishing the cool gust. It had gotten stuffy in the back of the van. Large hands grabbed my arms, yanking me out and ruining my special moment with the wind. Cockblocker.

"Portala dentro. Potrebbe avere informazioni sui russi."

(Translation: Take her inside. She might have information on the Russians.)

Russians? Why would I have information on them? Maybe I heard wrong. They were talking really fast and might've meant Americans. I can barely understand English if someone talks to me really fast, let alone Italian.

A large gun was pressed against my back as about five muscly guys pushed me along. I could tell by the sound of their footsteps.

"Can you take off my blindfold now?" I tried to ask, but it came out as muffled gibberish. One of the men grunted, but yanked my gag off. I smiled, turning my head in the direction the hand had come from.

"Thanks!"

He grunted again and one of them gave me a hard shove. I stumbled, almost falling, and turned my glare towards the pushy one.

"Calm down, Jamal, don't pull out the nine."

The guy was silent, probably not getting it.

Mafias these days.

"Boss wants to see you," a gravely voice said, coming from my left.

"And who might this 'boss' be?"

"You'll see." He sounded excited, but in a sadistic way. It wasn't cute.

I fought the urge to tell him I wouldn't be seeing anybody with this blindfold on, but I figured it wouldn't be the best way to start off our relationship.

..................

Well that took a surprisingly long time. Google translate out here saving lives.

Do you know how long I've been procrastinating this book? I know it started off kind of fast, but I'm terrible at writing beginnings.

Anyways, hope you liked it Ɛ>

-SB