Dom
I DO MY best to clean myself up in the bathroom, but I keep having to stop to hurl again. I think I have a serious concussion.
On any other day, I’d have taken my ass to the hospital to be checked over. But there are so many reasons why I can’t do that. I need to figure out a way to save Chloe, be there for my nan and make plans with Andre. Not to mention the police asking questions if I turned up at the hospital like this.
My head is muzzy and I’m struggling to stay conscious. I don’t even know how I got here, or what fucking day it is. Clearly, I’m not in a good way. I turn the shower on and over the din of the water running I hear the trill of my phone ringing. I stop, trying to pinpoint where the noise is coming from. I sway on my feet and stagger to my bedroom door. The noise stops momentarily but it starts up again just as quick. I look around swaying like a drunk and bend to lift my shorts from the floor. I don’t remember taking them off. I look down and realise I am in-fact only in my boxers. The shorts are covered in blood. Deciding this is definitely where the noise is coming from, I fumble around trying and failing to get my hand in the pocket to retrieve the phone. I try again and my head spins at around the same time my stomach flips and I lose what little I had left in my stomach leaving me dry heaving on my hands and knees.
I hurt everywhere. I’m not sure if it’s the thumping in my head, beating its own tune like the worst fucking hangover in history, or the pain in my ribs that hurts more. It could be a tie between the two. I dry heave again and groan as my head feels like it might implode. I crawl across the floor and the phone still ringing somewhere sounds further and further away as I feel myself slipping into unconsciousness.
***
I’m not sure if the noise I can hear is my blood pounding angrily around my head or it’s coming from somewhere else as I open my eyes. I blink realising only one eye is working. I feel strange like I’m not inside my own body. What the fuck is wrong with me? I push up from the floor, realising the banging is coming from downstairs and groan as pain shoots through my chest. The banging is coming from the front door to be more precise. I get up only for the room to spin, steadying myself against the wall, I try to get myself in motion.
As I get to the top of the stairs someone shouts through the letterbox. ‘Dominic it’s Andre.’ Every god damn step down the stairs pains me, and it takes at least five before I get a decent rhythm going and my feet get with the programme. I get to the door and find an angry guy, big about six feet and then some out on the front step. But as he takes me in, the anger seems to dissipate and concern etches his features.
‘What happened?’
‘I lost.’
‘I saw you fight last night you didn’t lose.’
‘Last night?’ What the fuck? ‘What time is it?’
‘It’s almost lunch time, I’ve been calling your phone all morning.’
‘Shit, wait…’ I close my one functioning eye as the pain ramps up a notch and my brain tries to fight through the foggy events of last night. I don’t like what I remember. My hands go out to grasp for the doorframe and Andre steps forward and holds me up.
‘You need to lay down.’ He holds me up and helps me to the living room. I fall onto the sofa and my head spins. Andre makes a phone call while I try to gather my thoughts and not throw up over Andre’s shoes. I try leaning forward on my knees but the room spins and my head thumps the back of the sofa. Ouch. ‘Fuuuck.’ I try and listen to Andre’s conversation but the thumping in my head takes precedence. And the rest is white noise.
I must pass out because when I’m hauled up and pulled to standing Andre slaps me around the face. ‘Come on you’re seeing the doc.’
‘No… no, they’ll call the police.’
‘Not that kinda doc, I know a guy.’
I’m put in a car and taken… well, I’m not sure where. I lean my head against the glass and the motion of the car hurts my head. Jesus fucking Christ I’m a mess.
***
When I wake I have a drip attached to my arm. I sit up and expect the dizziness to take hold but it doesn’t. Looking around I try to orientate myself. I’m in someone’s bedroom. Looks a lot like my nans, there’s frilly shit all over the place. Sitting up I find my feet and clamber up. The drip is attached to a stand which I roll along with me to the door. I open it and listen. I’m pretty sure I can hear someone down the stairs. I move slowly because I’m stiff, really stiff and not in a good way. It’s the hit by a fucking freight train kind of stiff, not the I had a good workout kind. Pain radiates upward toward my head with every fucking step I take. I get to the top of the stairs and realise I can’t go down with this stand. So I shout.
‘Hello?’
Andre comes into sight and walks up the stairs, passing me and going into the room I just came from. I follow sitting back on the bed while Andre takes a seat in a pink flowery chair.
‘Where are we?’
‘A friend’s house, she tended to you, checked you over and cleaned you up.’
‘Well thanks. I guess I’m still a mess.’ He nods not saying much else. ‘I need to get Chloe and my nan is still in the hospital, do you have a phone?’ He nods reaching into his pocket. I take it realising I don’t have Zoe’s number to memory.
‘How long have I been here?’ Please only say one night I look up the hospitals number and dial as he answers.
‘Two days.’
‘Fuck that long?’
‘You were in a bad way. You had a severe concussion and you have broken ribs and some other things I don’t remember the names for.’
‘I’m supposed to fight every night, they have Chloe they took her.’ I stop talking and hold my hand up as the phone is finally picked up at the other end. I explain when I’m put through to my Nan’s ward who I am and why I’m calling. The nurse goes off and gets Zoe.
‘Dom? where the fuck have you been?’
‘Zoe I’m so fucking sorry, Chloe was taken and I was beat up real bad. I’ve only just come around a few minutes ago.’
‘Oh my god, Dom what do you mean she was ‘taken’, what the hell is going on with you? You’re scaring me.’
‘Zoe, I swear everything will be okay, I’m so sorry about everything, is my nan okay?’
‘She’s good Dom she should be able to go home sooner than expected, she’s talking and eating really well.’ Relief floods me at Zoe’s words.
‘Thank you, Zoe, so fucking much I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
‘Just get your ass here stat I need a damn shower I stink.’ She laughs.
‘Listen I’ll get there as soon as I can, but I’m attached to a drip at the minute—’
‘Are you serious? It was that bad? Oh god, Dom, I’ll be here however long I’m needed just get better real quick! And keep in touch!’
‘You’re the best.’ I sigh in relief knowing Nan is in good hands.
‘I know there’s stuff you’re not telling me, but please tell me Chloe is okay?’
‘She will be.’ I tell her as honestly as I can. And just the thought of anything happening to Chloe guts me. I hang up the phone and Andre clears his throat. I look his way and hold out his phone.
‘We need to discuss the business of Patrick Smith.’
‘Yes, yes we fucking do.’ This motherfucker has to die.
***
Chloe
‘Get up, girl.’ I’m jostled awake by someone kicking my leg. ‘We’re moving you today.’ He says as he pulls me up off the floor by the bindings behind my back. Patrick popped his head in yesterday and told them to let me off the chair but to keep the ropes tied around my wrists. I thought maybe something was about to happen but after hours of sitting against the wall, my eyes finally drifted closed.
Dom’s wellbeing is the last thought on my mind before sleep takes me and the first thing as I wake. I’ve been in this room for what I think is about a week. With no windows or a way to keep track of time, I just don’t know. I tried to do that whole draw lines on the wall thing like you see in prison movies but after the third attempt of trying to do it behind my back, tied to a chair, I gave up. Especially when my nail broke half way down from trying, I could feel the blood dripping down my finger. Luckily none of the assholes were in here to see the tears roll down my cheeks from the pain. They would have loved that.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask hoping he’ll give me an answer, already knowing that he probably won’t. Anxiety settles in when I realize that Dom isn’t going to know where I’m at anymore. ‘Are we leaving the building? Isn’t there still a day or two on the deadline Patrick gave my father? Where are you taking me? Dammit let go of me.’ I struggle against the grip he has on my shoulder, but it does me no good. His nails dig into my skin and I shrink down from the pain. ‘Please just tell me something.’ I plead with him, not getting anywhere. He pushes me out the door and immediately turns right, heading in the direction of the exit sign. God please don’t let them take me any further from Dom.
‘Get out the door.’ He nudges my back with his elbow and I barely catch myself from tripping over the door trim. My eyes immediately squeeze closed as the light from outside hits them. The sun is beating down, but once my eyes start to adjust, I focus and see a decked out black Bentley in front of me, right where the man is heading. The door pops open. As I try to cautiously peep inside, fucking goonface pushes me in and I land face down on the black cold leather.
‘Owww.’
‘Get the fuck in.’ Is all he says in return. I adjust myself and try wiggling into the seat as best I can with my arms still restrained.
‘How are you doing today, Chloe?’ Looking over, I come face to face with Patrick Smith, number one asshole himself.
‘Can you tell me where we’re going? I thought you agreed a week with my dad?’ I rapid fire the questions at him. Really hoping to get some answers. I learned the first time they took me that he’s always the chattier of the bunch of kidnappers.
‘Gotta move ya, toots. I did agree for a week, but we can’t take no chances with keeping you there when Dom knows where it is. And since none of the people I sent to check on his whereabouts have been able to find him, I’m taking every precaution. Stupid guy hasn’t even shown up for his fights, and he knows what happens if he doesn’t.’ He pulls a flask out of his pocket and takes a swig, returning it right where he got it from. ‘Couldn’t even find him in any hospital. I think he’s bailed on you. I wouldn’t blame him if he did. But he’s a part of this now and he owes me now just as you and your father do.’
‘Was he in your debt before I came along?’ I question him while trying to think up ways to get Dom off the hook.
‘Nope. He just showed up, fought his fights, which he always won. Took his money and left. Always predictable with him. He’s been pretty consistent over the last few years. Brings in the big bucks for me too.’
‘So, if he wants out, why don’t you just let him out?’
‘Cuz he stuck his nose in the wrong man’s business and took something that didn’t belong to him. No one crosses me and gets away with it.’ Out comes the flask again, but this time he angles it towards me after he takes a drink, I shake my head no.
‘So, it’s all my fault? My dad’s fault, that you’re going after him and his family?’
‘Yep, don’t that just make you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. Your little fuckbuddy is involved ‘cause he tried to help you.’ He laughs out loud at himself. ‘God lord almighty, I hope that was some good ass pussy he got in return.’ He continues to laugh.
I have no response for his, my heart feels like it’s breaking in a million pieces. I turn my head toward the window for the rest of the drive, trying to figure out where we’re at. But it’s pointless. I haven’t explored London much since moving here, mostly have just stayed near my apartment. We pass an Italian restaurant named Gregorio’s and I take note to try to at least remember it in case it comes in use. The vehicle starts to slow and I try to look around more, noticing where we could be. But as I stare out the window I’m entrenched into pure blackness. A bag of some sort of canvas material is pulled over my head.
‘Is this necessary? You’ve not put it on the whole way here.’ I enquire.
‘Yes.’ That’s all he says. I hear the door pop open and I’m pulled down from the seat. I’m thrown over someone’s shoulder and I can tell we’re heading up some sort of steps. The atmosphere changes as we enter the place. Loud, swishing noises and people talking in a different language. I’m not sure but I think it’s Chinese or Japanese. The sounds cease off in the distance and the man stops walking.
‘Fuck.’ I yell as I’m thrown down on my butt and the bag is roughly torn from my head, taking some of my hair with it. ‘Do you need to be so damn rough?’ I try to rub my head with my shoulder to soothe the ache of where my hair got pulled but after a minute I give up because there’s no way I can reach it. Patrick opens the door and enters the room. I crane my head to see out of the door before it closes and there’s lines of tables with men working at them, money counting machines in front of them.
‘What is this place? A drug house?’ My eyebrow raises at Patrick as he shakes his head at me.
‘No, it’s not a fucking drug house. What kinda man do you take me for?’ I huff out a laugh at him but he continues without giving me the chance to respond. ‘Just stay here a bit. Your dad has a couple more days to get back to me. Who knows, you could be outta here before you know it.’
Both the men exit the room, leaving me all alone. My hands are still bound behind my back but at least I’m not tied to a chair this time. Bright side, right? I send a silent prayer up to God, please let this nightmare end soon.