One week later
It has been a week since I was nearly killed. Mario gave me the B12 shots every 12 hours, and it took about three days for the nausea to go away. Today is the first day I have woken up without feelingdizzy, so I think the worst of it is behind me. Unless of course, he tries to kill me again.
The island is about ten acres and there are few things built here. There is a house and a few smaller ones that look to only be basic accommodations. I would assume it’s likely for guests. The main house is about 3000 square feet and my room is at the end of the hallway. I’d have to pass Angelo and Mario’s room to get out. Even then, where the fuck would I go? If I could find a key to the boat, I could get away that way. I’d end up getting lost for sure, but at least I would die by myself rather than stuck with these two assholes.
Mario tries to keep me company, and for the most part, I let him. He doesn’t push for me to talk about anything and I think that is just because he realizes that I’m not going to talk. Angelo and I get into a screaming match practically every day. It has become my life goal to piss him off so badly that he just kills me. I don’t think it would take much. His father seems to be a sore spot for him, so I will push on that until he breaks.
I have noticed that he is getting increasingly angry that I’m not eating. I drink water because I don’t want to die of dehydration and Mario gives it to me in a sealed bottle, I’ll happily starve myself before I accept food from either of them.
“Lunch is ready,” Mario says from my doorway. I spend all of my time reading or drawing. The last two days I have been drawing what I saw before I passed out. I want to keep that memory alive, so I am drawing a picture of my mom holding a baby and my dad with his arms outstretched, reaching for me.
“Pass,” I say as I continue to shade.
“You need to eat,” Mario sighs.
“You need to get fucked,” I say simply.
“Clearly you are the one who needs to get fucked,” he mutters.
“Excuse me?” I ask, looking up.
“Eat, Laura,” he says.
“No. Go away,” I respond. He simply shrugs and walks out of the room.
A few minutes later, Angelo comes into the room and rips the notebook out of my hand before throwing it across the room. Next, he plucks the pencils from my hand and tosses them on the dresser. “Get up,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because I fucking said so,” he barks at me. “Get the fuck up.”
I laugh and shake my head at him before getting off the bed to stand. “Happy?”
“Come on,” he says, pointing to the door.
“No,” I say simply.
“Laura. Go,” he growls at me. Mario looks amused in the doorway. When I cross my arms over my chest. “I swear to God, if I have to make you, you’ll regret being a brat.”
“Aw. What are you gonna do, Angelo? Are you going to upgrade from poison to strangulation?” I ask. “Oh, or are you going be like your dead daddy and just shoot me in the face?”
“You’ve done it now,” Mario laughs when Angelo walks toward me. I straighten my back and keep my body language neutral when he wraps his hand around my throat and tips my head back soI’m looking up at him. He is a huge man with huge muscles. If he wasn’t such an asshole, he would be positively irresistible.
“You don’t get to talk about my father,” he says with a warning in his tone. I smile at him, and he gets visibly angry. “Wipe that fucking smile off your face.”
“God, I bet your temper tantrums are just as intense as his were,” I say. “I wonder if you’ll cry like a little bitch just like he did before he got a new hole in his head.”
“Excuse me?” he growls, tightening his grip on my throat slightly.
“Aw. Your loyal cousin didn’t tell you what I said,” I laugh.
“What is she talking about?” Angelo asks.
“She said that you don’t get to know what his last words were or how he pissed himself before he died just like her parents did,” Mario said. “I was avoiding telling you before you came in here to get her.”
“How do you know how my father died?” he asks me.
“Go fuck yourself,” I laugh dryly.