I blindly believe that there wasn't a single day when Ângelo Fontana, that shitty bastard, didn't make me cry. Whether it was begging for mercy on that dark night when he fucked me as if I were a whore who accepted everything, or the day when the old hag auctioned me off to spend the night with three men, including him, or when he gave me the greatest joy of my life by rescuing my brother and granting me freedom. There wasn't a single day when this man didn't make me cry for real.
And today would be no different.
I swear I'm in shock, almost fainting in tears over what just happened inside that restaurant. I should forget all the bad things I used to call this devil. Perverse, cruel, psychopath, and lunatic...
I stare at the ground as this sicko drags me to his car waiting at the restaurant's entrance. It's impossible not to burst out laughing at the absurdity I heard and witnessed.
"You're a lunatic... a real sadist," I say, scandalized. *He made the madam eat the cooked flesh of her own son.*
Despite everything, he opened the car door and practically threw me inside as if I were a pliable doll. Then he showed his irritation by slamming the door hard, walking around the car, getting in, and buckling his seatbelt.
He stared at me with monstrous fury.
"I believe your indignation is because I let the old hag escape," he assumed, seemingly genuinely convinced that I was horrified because he allowed the crying old woman to flee.
I shake my head, shifting my attention and trying to unlock the door to get away from this lunatic.
"What the fuck did you do?" I can't normalize what I witnessed, my God... it was terrifying.
"I agree. We should've chopped her up too and, since we were in a restaurant, had her meat prepared while we danced to a beautiful Beethoven sonata." The maniac touched my knee and squeezed it. I shudder. "I never forgot that this bitch made me rape you."
I shake my head, tears in my eyes.
"You didn't rape me. It was my job... Whether rough, gentle, or whatever, I was in that brothel to serve you or any other client who paid my price." I rip his hand off my knee and throw my hands to my face, desperate and wanting to kill him for finding out that Ângelo Fontana tortured himself over this.
The car sped off, and I wondered if he wasn't trying to kill us with the way he zigzagged, overtaking all the cars on the road. But no... the lunatic was just venting his rage at the world on the wet pavement.
"Now the cat-and-mouse race begins."
I hear him say and blink my wet eyes, confused.
"Explain that shit." My mind is a mess. Too much terror for one night.
"The madam, she knows we're going to kill her. I let her escape because we need to find out who the big shots are behind her dirty business. We'd only get to them if she's alive."
"And where does the cat-and-mouse race you're talking about come in?"
"We're going to scare her, show her we're on her tail, torture her, and in the end..." Shifting gears in the car, he looked into my eyes. "We'll send a mother to the kingdom of hell to embrace her beloved son." He accelerated the car, and I saw the rancorous, relentless smile on his damned lips.
It's obvious he's going to send the madam to the kingdom of hell... he's the devil himself.
Now I understand why I was always afraid of him... the guy is the devil incarnate.
I still want to know what's wrong with my damn head to ally myself with him... I think it was the worst choice I've ever made in my life.
"Is it a hobby of yours to make people fear you?" I ask, frightened.
"No. But it's a nice distraction to see you looking at me with fear."
"Are you doing all this for me, to scare me?"
He laughed with a lot of irony.
"Who are you trying to fool, Lavínia?" He didn't look at me. "You can't stand knowing that some part of you miserably loves fearing me."
Immediately, I shake my head, denying this absurdity.
"Sick lunatic." I turn my face, preferring to watch the blur of the cars rather than try to understand this bastard's head.
***
My body trembled uncontrollably when I slammed the car door and saw a massive headquarters. Even though Ângelo had driven at high speed, we spent about two hours in the car.
"Where are we?" I ask, intrigued. You can expect anything from this lunatic.
Did he hit his head when he was a kid?
He activated his car's alarm and came to my side. An impenetrable expression, a thick shell without remorse or any feeling. Sometimes I feel like a cockroach next to this man.
"Do you really think I made you look this delicious just to not show you off to my clan?" His two fingers touched my chin, and he smiled with a damned depreciation that made me sick.
I push him away.
Curious about what he's saying, I look at the massive headquarters again. So this was where his clan of killers gathered to scheme, organize, and orchestrate all the murders and crimes they committed?
"What's the reason for me being here?" I look at him with disdain.
"You're part of this now. You need to know the heart of the thing." He winked and turned his back, buttoning his suit. I stand still by the car, furious and looking around to see if there's a kind soul to give me a ride and get me away from this son of a bitch. "Don't even try, Lavínia. A place where so many deaths happen, it's expected that no one passes by their destination." The bastard spoke as if he read my thoughts.
Fearful, I move my feet and follow him.
Suddenly, he used his biometrics at every device on the gray metal doors we entered. The place was extremely secure, with alarms and lasers everywhere. It was a fortress...
At the last steel door, the largest of all at the end of a hallway with matte black, spotless walls, I saw the door slide to the side automatically and robotically.
"Good to see you again, Mr. Fontana." The red LED panel spoke. A panel above the steel door spoke... it simply spoke to Ângelo.
His hand firmly held my waist, and the bastard urged me to walk with him into the room. My eyes widened at the door. The entire wall around, from ceiling to floor, had thousands of small squares with images of people going about their daily lives.
"Who are these people?" I ask in a low tone so as not to disturb the uniformed men moving back and forth with iPads in their hands.
"Future cemetery residents." Ângelo answered without showing any emotion and removed his hand from my waist, walking to the center of the room, placing his hands on the wide black table, leaning his shoulders forward, and observing the computers.
I swallowed hard, incredulous that this place was the true meaning of stalking future victims of death. They monitored, in a violent, intimate, and predatory way, all those condemned to death, obsessively watching their daily routines. That headquarters was used to repeatedly invade the victims' private spheres, so they'd know where, how, and when was the right time to kill.
With a loud alarm noise, a terrifying siren, I jumped and had to touch my chest, my heart racing like that disturbing siren. Looking fearfully at the images on the walls, I saw many squares with the victims, one after another, making a terrifying sound and going black, with the description in red in the middle of the screen: *dead user*...
I shuddered, knowing that meant a dead user.
With my heart pounding in my throat, I looked at Ângelo, who looked at the panel descending from the ceiling, showing the number of dead victims in red and the living ones in green. His gaze shifted back to the walls with images, and I saw him press some button on the computer. Then, I noticed the previously black screens light up again with images of new people.
The panel went back into the ceiling, and stunned, I stared at Ângelo.
Everything here was automated to not miss a second of the victims.
For some hired killers, that headquarters was an Olympus.
I saw Ângelo's gaze change completely with something behind me, and by the sound of footsteps, I sensed someone approaching. It wasn't seconds before Ângelo squared his shoulders and, with one hand in his pocket, came toward me.
"To what do we owe the honor of your visit?" A deep, masculine voice spoke, and I knew it was for Ângelo. Tempted to know who had just arrived, I looked back and caught the gaze of a tall, strong redheaded man falling on me. "Damn, I was expecting a snack, and you brought a feast."
Ângelo's firm hand touched my waist. I shift my eyes to him, not understanding what the hell is going on.
"Knowing you're a misogynistic son of a bitch, I couldn't miss coming here and seeing your defeated face when I told you that this feast will start giving you orders." He declared with traces of ecstasy, and I was so stunned that I couldn't feel anything below my feet anymore.
"You wouldn't be crazy enough to put a woman in charge." The redheaded man was foaming at the mouth.
"I'm not putting her in charge; the command will always be mine. She's just going to start giving you orders. I've been very tense, and this will serve as a distraction." Ângelo let go of my waist, and I saw him take his cigarette pack from his suit, pull out a cigarette, place it between his lips, put the pack away, and slowly light the cigarette in his mouth.
I sigh, not because of this idiot but because I find myself with no way out. There's a man who apparently hates him, and Ângelo feels the same, doubled, for both me and the redhead.
"And who is this woman?" The redhead asked, intrigued.
I raise my eyes to the darkness of Ângelo's gaze, who took my hand and brought his face close to the redhead's, removing the cigarette from his mouth and speaking, blowing smoke in the man's face. He's the embodiment of defiance.
"She's the new leader of your clan here in Switzerland."
I shudder, my heart now in my hand.
"You can't do that."
"Of course I can. It's all my shit. If you're not satisfied, get the hell out." Delivering the final blow, Ângelo bumped shoulders with the man and pulled me with him, walking out with me hand in hand from the only room in the world that fed the cemetery.
I smile, squeezing his hand.
"You're really good at lying," I whisper.
He looked at me while puffing on his cigarette.
"When did I say I was lying?"
My smile dies.
What do you mean I became the leader of a clan of killers?
He must be bluffing.