Twisted City: (Twisted City Book 1)

by Rebekah Vasick

  Don’t be stupid, Eva. They aren’t interested in you.

  I sweep my gaze over the sea of people to discover they no longer glare at me. They were never looking at all. Once again, I allowed my imagination to run wild.

  With my fears abated, I abandon the dance floor and search for Angelo.

  I find him standing beside the bar talking to Mary. While she seductively chews on a thin red straw, Angelo leans in close to caress the side of her face with his fingertips.

  A set of cold hands, enclose around my chest, squeezing the breath from my lungs.

  How can he flirt with me on the dance floor and then flirt with Mary at the bar? He was so caring at the table. What happened?

  Alice’s voice commandeers my thoughts. He’s a player.

  A wave of fury heats my chest, melting the icy fingers. Though I can’t decide who I’m more enraged with: him or myself.

  After finishing with Mary, he turns from the bar with two drinks in his hand. In four strides, he stands before me.

  “Here you go,” he says, offering me a Coke.

  I refuse to thank him.

  He sips at his whiskey and scans the room, probably searching for the next girl to seduce.

  A wide smile emerges on his lips, while a new wave of anger floods my body, until Frankie’s voice booms. “Ange, I need to take off.” He has beads of sweat on his brow. He lowers his eyes and runs a hand through his hair. “There’s some business I need to attend to.”

  Angelo’s smile fades. “Are you gambling again?”

  Frankie chuckles nervously. “No, nothing like that.”

  “I’ll find you dead one day if you carry on like this.”

  Frankie rests a hand on Angelo’s shoulder. “You worry too much. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

  Angelo glares at his brother before swallowing the rest of his drink. Whatever silent message Angelo emitted, Frankie received it. His face is grim as his hand falls from his brother’s shoulder.

  “Call me later so I know you’re still alive,” Angelo says in a flat voice.

  “Yeah,” Frankie replies before walking away from us.

  “My brother has a gambling problem and owes some people a lot of money,” Angelo informs me with a distant gaze. “I could pay his debt, but what’s the point? He’ll be back in debt before the day’s end, and I’d still find him dead somewhere.”

  Uncertain of how to respond, I take a sip of my Coke, maintaining my focus on him. In the short time I have known him, not once has he expelled a pessimistic aura. But here I stand, fascinated by the anguish on his face. It makes him vulnerable, natural, and even more alluring.

  With tender fingers, I caress his arm. He watches my hand; I’m surprised that he can feel my touch through his jacket.

  Without uttering a word, he walks away.

  An invisible fist connects with my stomach, withdrawing all the air from my lungs. What do I do now?

  A pair of cold hands creep around me, capturing me, only to retreat the moment he glances over his shoulder.

  “You coming?” he asks.

  Those simple words thwart off the onslaught of anxiety. He wants me with him despite his discomfort.

  He waits for me to join him before slipping his hand inside mine.

  Inside the office, a light is shining somewhere, and once the door closes behind me, silence imbues the room. Angelo’s hand slips from mine as he approaches the oak desk to the right of the office. He glides his fingertips along the desktop as he circles it, disappearing around the corner.

  A creak of a desk chair reaches my ears before his voice. “Come sit,” he says.

  Before my feet obey, I survey my surroundings. The T-shaped office appears out of place compared to the club. Dark green paint dresses the walls, while worn, black carpet decks the floor. How strange, considering he spent a considerable amount of money on everything else inside the club. To my left is an open door leading into a tiny room filled with lockers and a large safe.

  With my curiosity sated, my liberated feet carry me towards the leather chair beside the desk.

  Angelo is sitting in another leather chair across from me. With the empty tumbler still in his hand, he holds it against his temple, the other hand uses his thumb and index finger to pinch the bridge of his nose.

  I ease myself into the chair and rest my glass on the desk. I look at the single black lamp on the desk with a disorganized stack of papers beside it.

  I jump at a loud bang, grateful to not have the glass in my hand, as I’d be wearing my drink. My gaze flickers towards Angelo.

  He’s set the tumbler on the desk with his clenched fist resting beside it. The sorrow on his face deepens as he stares into the abyss of his empty glass.

  “Angelo?” I whisper.

  His eyes swivel towards me. “I’m sorry Frankie ruined our night.”

  “It’s okay,” I say.

  A heavy silence imbues the room.

  I rest my hands in my lap, allowing them to find comfort in one another.

  He drums his fingertips intermittently on the desk, exhaling a heavy sigh. “I should take you home. I need to find Frankie,” he mutters, and I’m unsure if he’s talking to me or himself.

  A minute passes before he rises from his chair and heads towards the exit.

  I abandon the glass on the desk as nausea infiltrates my stomach. I hug my elbows. When he brought me to the club, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I didn’t expect him to take me home so soon.

  Like a well-trained puppy, I follow him out into the chilled night air and rub warmth into my bare arms.

  The shiny blue Shelby Mustang glistens in the moonlight from the droplets of chilled air resting on its body. The ride here was exhilarating. However, I know the ride home will be far from it.

  In silence, he opens the passenger door for me but soon departs for the other side of the car.

  The cold leather seat chills me further and I cup my hands together as I raise them to my lips, blowing hot breath into them. I watch him circle the car. His face remains just as morose as before.

  Neither of us says a word as he slides into the driver’s seat. Only the roar of the engine breaks the silence. The sorrow weeps from him, soaking into my skin. I don’t find this new characteristic of his beguiling. It doesn’t suit him at all.

  I miss the cocky, flirtatious man he once was. Will that man ever return?

  The seat belt tightens around my body as Angelo skids the car to a halt outside my building.

  After readjusting myself, I whisper, “Thanks for the ride home.”

  He remains morose, keeping his focus on the road. “Yeah. I’ll see you on your next shift?” he asks.

  “Yes, of course,” I sigh.

  With no more words to exchange, I unbuckle my seat belt and exit the car.

  Angelo gives me little time to close the door before he speeds away, leaving me standing to watch the taillights merge with the heavy traffic. The wind howls, tousling my hair and biting at my naked arms. Yet I continue staring at the traffic, replaying the events that transpired tonight.

  The unique couple who instilled fear in my soul, and the flirtatious advances from Angelo that dissipated just as quickly as they arose. If only I could get inside his head, maybe I could understand what’s going on between us. If there is anything going on between us.

  With heavy feet and an even heavier heart, I drift towards the front door, fumbling through my bag to retrieve my keys. They snag on the delicate fabric inside the bag, and as I yank at them, the fabric tears. A few more tugs liberate them, along with long strands of cotton.

  I squeeze my eyes tight and let out an anguished groan before attempting to disentangle the bird’s nest from the building key. I shove it into the lock and push the door open, only to discover the key sticks inside the lock.

  “Come on, you stupid thing,” I cry out.

  “Everything okay, love?” the soft voice of a man I recognize asks.

  I swipe away the ro
gue tears before glancing over my shoulder to find Mr. Thompson, one of my neighbors, standing behind me. He’s an elderly gentleman with thin wisps of white hair and soft gray eyes that glimmer. As usual, he wears a black pair of sweatpants with a red plaid shirt. His thin, wrinkled face reminds me of a detailed book of his life, showing every laugh line, every smile, every worry he’s ever had.

  “I can’t get my key out of the door. It’s stuck,” my voice quivers, as I step back.

  With kind eyes and a warm smile, he removes the key with ease. He cradles my keys in my open hand.

  “Thank you, Mr. Thompson.” I force a smile, suppressing the emerging tears.

  He pats my hand before shuffling inside the building.

  Though Mr. Thompson shares the same floor as me, he remains on the ground floor, allowing me to ascend the two flights of stairs in solitude.

  As usual, our apartment resembles an oven. The elderly residents insist on keeping their heating on high throughout the year, heating our apartment too. After closing the front door, I wander over to my bedroom. I kick off my shoes and toss my bag onto my bed before heading over to the sofa.

  With a heavy sigh, I slump down and stare at the black screen of the TV. Ordinarily, I switch it on for companionship. Tonight, however, I remain seated, staring into the blackness, allowing it to consume my thoughts.

  After a while, the loathsome memories of tonight intrude my mind. The strange couple that looked so much like the ghosts from my past. Even their demeanor spoke to me.

  Though my scars remain hidden under the fabric of my dress, I rest my hands on my thighs and trace their outlines with my fingertips. As the world around me fades, the memories of the heinous acts inflicted upon me infiltrate my mind. Without my consent, I’m transported back to the horrific life I left behind.

  Though she hides her hands behind her back, I know she’s holding a knife. Her glazed, dark eyes narrow while her lip curls, baring her tobacco-stained teeth. The stench of alcohol imbues my nostrils, churning my stomach. I know better than to turn away from her.

  “Come here, you little brat,” she spits.

  With quivering limbs, I slide my feet backwards while maintaining my fearful stare on her.

  She grabs my arm, yanking me towards her.

  Long ago, I knew my screams were pointless. If anything, they only heightened their twisted pleasure. I even learned to withhold my tears until I reached my room, where I could scream into my pillow. Never would I allow them to indulge in my pain.

  She strikes my face with her palm, knocking me to the ground.

  “When I tell you to come, you come!” she shrieks.

  With wide eyes, I watch the shiny blade of the knife as she brings it closer to my bare legs. Before the blade reaches my skin, I implore my spirit to leave my body and witness the blade slice into my tender flesh, drawing a fresh line of blood.

  A cruel smile slinks across her lips, only to disperse when I offer her no satisfaction. By lying here, silent and unwavering, I infuriate her.

  She pushes me away before rising to her feet. “Go to your room,” she hisses.

  I blink to abolish the memory, liberating a tear to make a hasty retreat down my cheek, and leap from my chin to its freedom.

  As my eyes focus on the blackness of the TV screen, I draw in a shuddered breath. The silence that permeates the room becomes overbearing, and I snatch up the remote to banish the demons of my past. Though I can’t concentrate the images on the screen, the sound soothes my troubled mind. I lie down on the sofa, curling my knees into my chest, and embrace myself.

  Angelo’s aftershave imbues my nostrils. I gather a lock of hair and inhale to discover I’m drenched in his scent, something I would have relished in only a few hours ago. But now, it only intensifies the ache in my heart.

  Two hours pass before Alice returns home. As she balances herself against the door to remove her shoes, I notice the Cheshire cat grin plastered across her face.

  “Fun night at work?” I ask.

  “Yeah, you could say that.” She wobbles her way over to the sofa.

  “Are you drunk?”

  “No. A little tipsy, maybe. I went for a drink with a girl from work.”

  Once she sits beside me, she examines my clothing. “Did you go out tonight or is this a new nightgown?”

  “Angelo called and wanted me to come in,” I explain.

  “And you what? Caved and went in?”

  “No, he came to the apartment when I told him I wouldn’t go.”

  She arches her eyebrows. “Wow. He’s persistent, isn’t he? So what’s the deal with you and Angelo now?”

  The memory of our time on the dance floor, of his lips pressed against my neck, trickles through my mind, sending a flurry of butterflies to flutter around my stomach.

  “Nothing. The night was quite boring, actually,” I lie.

  She narrows her eyes.

  I rise from the sofa to escape her inquisition. “I’m getting a drink. Want one?”

  “No thanks. What happened then? What did you do?”

  “Nothing. We just talked.” As I approach the breakfast bar, her phone chirps from inside her bag, alerting her to a text message. “Want me to bring it to you?” I ask over my shoulder.

  “No, I’ll get it,” she says as she hurtles towards me like a stampede of wild animals, snatching her bag and rummaging through it to extract her phone. She turns her back towards me and giggles.

  With my curiosity piqued, I ask, “Who’s that?”

  She peers over her shoulder. “What? Oh, a colleague from work sent me something funny.” She stretches out her arms and pretends to yawn. “It’s been a long day. I think I’ll go to bed now. Night, Eva.”

  Without waiting for my response, she scuttles to her room.

  She’s clearly hiding something from me. However, I’m too exhausted to question what. Besides, I have my own secrets to process.

  Living in the bustling city may not be my dream, but it has its benefits. Shops and other amenities are within walking distance and both Alice and I take full advantage of this. As usual, my purse is empty, but the bright sun invites me to join it outside, nonetheless. With no particular route in mind, I point my feet in one direction and walk.

  The hectic street subdues as cars disperse, leaving the road barren. How strange, as this is the main road.

  I ignore the oddity and continue on my path.

  Before long, the street darkens as the joyous sun hides behind angered clouds. The air around me chills. I wish I had brought a light jacket with me, instead of opting to wear nothing but jeans and a t-shirt.

  The first drops of rain fall and I change my direction for home. As the drops become heavier, I throw my arms around myself to preserve what little heat I have, while lowering my face to protect it from the pelting rain.

  Once I’m convinced I’m beside my apartment building, I raise my head only to discover I recognize none of my surroundings. How can that be possible, considering I walked in a straight line, crossing no main streets?

  The high-rises, hotels, and office buildings show this is somewhere in the city’s heart, somewhere I’ve yet to venture. Stranger still, the street is empty. Where did everyone go?

  While shielding my eyes from the heavy downpour, I glance around to find my bearings, but to no avail. I’m completely lost with no one around to ask for directions.

  Despite my predicament, I continue walking, keeping my head up this time, despite the rain obscuring my vision.

  A few yards ahead of me, a couple stands huddled together under a large, black umbrella. At last, I can ask for directions, or at least find my location.

  As I close the gap between us, a compelling voice within my mind cautions me.

  Careful, Eva. They’re dangerous.

  Though eager to escape the rain, I listen to my inner voice and tiptoe towards them, all the while trying to capture a glimpse of their features and demeanor.

  Once I’m close enough to see the
m clearly, my eyes widen and my body quivers. My heart pounds against my chest and my breathing becomes erratic.

  For now, the couple remains with their backs towards me. However, as I attempt a hasty retreat, they turn, training their fierce stares on me.

  Frozen fingers grip my body, holding me in place.

  The slight, built woman wears her bottle-red hair in a messy bob. Her dark eyes narrow as her thin lips contort into a sneer. She’s dressed all in black, as is her companion: a tall, skinny man with a closely shaved head. His ice-blue eyes grow large as he recognizes me. The lit cigarette he holds between his lips hangs low as his jaw drops. The gray smoke snakes around the pair, intimidating me further.

  Without removing the cigarette, he greets me with a chilling voice I’ve grown to loathe over the years. “Hello, princess. We’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

  As they approach, I part my lips to scream, but the sound catches in my throat. My uncooperative feet refrain from moving, though my mind compels them to run.

  “We missed you, princess,” the man continues, blowing a stream of smoke into my face.

  The heavy raindrops mingle with my tears that slither down my cheeks.

  The man grips my face between his thumb and fingertips, drawing his face close to mine. “I love to watch you cry,” he hisses.

  My nose wrinkles from his rancid breath.

  “Leave me alone,” I whisper.

  He releases my face, but then I feel the sting of a slap.

  “Don’t you talk to him like that!” the woman shrieks.

  The man grabs my shoulder with steel fingers, yanking me towards him. “You can’t run away again, princess.”

  “Let me go!” I scream. “Help me! Someone, please help me!”

  “Look around, princess. It’s just us. No one’s coming to help you.” He grabs my other shoulder, digging his steel fingers into my tender flesh. “I can’t wait till we’re home.”

  “No! You can’t hurt me anymore!” I shriek, flailing my arms around as I ward off my attacker.