Two Years Dead, He Crazed At Last

That night when I was ten years old changed everything.

BANG!

The door to our crappy apartment flew open and my father stumbled in, smelling like booze. His eyes were red and his face had bloody scratches all over it, like someone had beaten him up.

I woke up on the couch, rubbing my eyes. "Dad? What happened?"

He didn't answer. He just rushed over and grabbed my wrist. His hand was shaking, but he held on so tight it hurt.

"Elvira," his voice sounded scary and rough, "I'm sorry, baby, but I don't have a choice."

"What choice? Dad, what are you talking about?" He was acting crazy and it scared me.

Then several men in black suits walked in. They looked at me like I was something they wanted to buy.

"Is this her?" the leader asked.

My father's voice shook. "She's my daughter. Take her for the debt."

I felt like my whole world was falling apart.

"Dad!" I screamed, trying to get away, but my father held on tight. "What are you doing? Let me go!"

"I'm sorry, Elvira, I really don't have any other choice..." Tears ran down my father's face, but he wouldn't let go.

The man in black came over and pulled me away from my father. I fought and cried and screamed, but it didn't help. The last thing I saw was my father on his knees, crying.

The car drove through the night with me in the back seat. I had cried so much I had no tears left.

What's happening? Why would Dad do this to me? Where are they taking me?

After forever, the car stopped.

They brought me into a huge mansion that was so fancy it made me stare. But they didn't take me to the main house. They dragged me straight to the basement.

When they opened the heavy metal door, I smelled blood.

In the dim light, I saw him.

Eighteen-year-old Marco Rossini stood in the middle of the room, holding a silver gun against the head of a man on his knees.

"This is the bastard who killed my parents," he said, his voice cold and empty.

I had never seen anything like this. I was shaking with fear, but I couldn't look away from him. He was like a young king who could decide if people lived or died.

BANG!

The gunshot made me scream.

Marco heard me and slowly turned around. Those deep blue eyes looked surprised when he saw me.

"A kid?" He frowned. "Since when does Vincent pay his debts with kids?"

"Boss, her father gave her to pay what he owes," one of his men said.

Marco looked me up and down, then got down to my level. Up close, his eyes were beautiful, like the ocean. But they were so cold and scary I couldn't look right at him.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Elvira..." I could barely whisper.

"How old are you?"

"T-ten."

Marco stared at me for a moment, then stood up. "Take her upstairs and get her a room."

"Boss, what about Vincent's debt..."

"He's lucky he has a daughter," Marco said coldly. "But I'll deal with him later."

They led me out of that scary basement and followed an old butler to the main house. Even though I wasn't in that horrible place anymore, I didn't feel better. I knew this was just the beginning of my nightmare.

The old butler, Vito, was a nice Italian man who talked to me as we walked, trying to make me feel better.

"Don't be scared, little one. Mr. Rossini seems mean, but he's not really a bad person."

We walked through fancy hallways past one beautiful room after another, and finally stopped at a pink door.

"This is your home now," Marco's voice said behind me.

I turned and saw him holding a warm cup of milk. He came over, got down to my level, and held it out to me.

"Drink this. It'll warm you up," his voice was much nicer than it had been in the basement.

I took the milk and sipped it carefully. The warm liquid made me feel a little better.

"Don't be scared, little one," Marco gently touched my hair. "No one will hurt you here."

Then Vito came over with a small needle. "Mr. Rossini, we need to check her blood type."

I backed away scared, but Marco said softly: "It'll be quick. It won't hurt."

Vito gently took a little bit of my blood and tested it on a machine nearby. After a minute, he said, "RH negative blood!"

Marco's eyes got intense. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mr. Rossini," Vito said quietly.

I didn't understand what they were talking about, but I could tell my blood was important to them somehow.

Marco didn't say anything else, just opened the pink door.

The room was pretty, with pink curtains, a soft bed, and lots of toys. It didn't look like a prison for a kid at all. It looked like a room for someone's daughter.

"Get some sleep," Marco said as he started to leave.

"Wait!" I got brave enough to call after him. "You... you really won't hurt me?"

Marco stopped and looked back at me. His eyes had some feeling in them I couldn't understand. "No, I won't."

After he left, I looked around the room by myself. When I went to the dresser, I found an old photograph.

In the photo was a little girl about seven or eight years old, wearing a white dress and smiling. The weird thing was, this girl looked kind of like me...

I picked up the photo and stared at it, my mind full of questions.

Who is she? Why does she look like me? Why is her picture in this room?

Outside, the footsteps got quiet, and the whole house was silent. I held the photograph, curled up on the bed, and started crying again.

I didn't know what would happen tomorrow, or what would happen to me.

All I knew was that starting tonight, my life was different forever.