Bullet

The pounding of my head forces me awake, "Good afternoon, Kid. I kind of realized I didn't know your name, mine is Ezekiel." The green-eyed man smiles at me. "I'm Alexander…" He approaches the side of my bed and helps me in a sitting position. Ezekiel reaches over and grabs a plate of food. It looks as though nothing of a typical hospital's food.

My stomach lets out a ravenous growl as I blush. "Dig in Alex, I had it prepared for you after all." With a soft nod, I shovel the food in my mouth gaining warnings to slow down. The corn is warm and buttery as I moan in spoonfuls. Chicken drumsticks perfectly made along with a huge baked potato.

Not long after, I had the whole plate wiped clean of food, besides the bone of the chicken left behind. After being handed a glass of water my body stutters with hiccups. "Awwe, I told you to slow down, now you have the hiccups." I slightly glare at the man, no true anger behind it.

The 'hics' escape my mouth, occasionally in painful bursts. I distract myself by fiddling with my fingers. Though soon after my hiccups cease the man decided to speak. His words forcing me to freeze and turn numb.

"I know who you are boy." His tone is dark and menacing, nothing like before. "Wh-What do you mean?" I anxiously stutter out looking at him with wide eyes. My form is rigid, "You married that damned fucking man!" He screamed at me, his face red from anger forcing me to cower away.

"You married the devil of fucking Mafia's!" His snarl turned to a devilish smirk, "You'll bring my Mafia so much luck sweetheart~" He purrs out in a sadistic manner. My heart races, the monitor simulating it as his smirks grows only wider.

In one swift motion I pull everything off and away from me as I make move to dart but he reacts like a trained Mafia leader. He tears his gun from its hidden spot and lodges a bullet in my calf. I fall to the tile floor, a scream ripping through my throat.

A psychopathic laugh cuts through the air as he forces a foot down on my pained calf. I scream, the blood following effortlessly out of the bullet hole. "No! No! You're a psychopath!" I screech, terrified for my life as he picks me up by the throat.

Clawing at his hands he slams me into the wall pointing the gun to my head. I stop in my tracks and widen my eyes. "Look what Damien dragged you into… my poor innocent boy." He smirks, licking a long streak of saliva up my cheek. I flinch and refrain from gagging as he drops me harshly to the floor.

"As being one of the most powerful Mafia leaders in the world you'd think he'd have you on lock and key. I'll make sure to not make the same mistakes." He walks out without a second glance towards me, locking the door behind him.

Tears well in my pale blue eyes, or are they grey today? Perhaps that's the least of my worries. I gradually stand and refrain from screaming like hell. Cascading tears rush down my boney face. I make no move to wipe them away as I limp over to the counter stationed in most doctors' rooms. I dig through the drawers and grab a pair of tweezers, falling to the floor, I grit my teeth.

I begin to work on getting the bullet out, not caring to silence my yells and hollers. The waterfall of tears rushes down my face as blood pours from the wound at an alarming pace. With slow but jagged movements, I take my time in pulling the bullet out of the place it once called home. I let out a final ear-piercing scream as the bullet breaks free of its spot. I drop the bullet and tweezers to the floor, the soft clanging of metal hitting the tile floor keeps me from closing my eyes.

I refocus on my mission, grabbing a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. I pour it on my wound and almost faint from the sheer pain. Mom always said this never hurt, what a damn fucking lie! After that, I grab a towel from the drawer and hold it to my wound. I cry silently, I wish my parents had never fucking sold me. I could have grown up with my siblings and gone to a college at a submissive role school. I could have gotten a job and a wife, along with kids and a dog.

Yet I’m stuck in a faux hospital room making sure I don’t kill myself because a psychopathic Mafia leader put a bullet in my calf! My life in the span of 3 months went from normal to a demonic hell. Last I saw myself I was already boney and frail, I wonder what I look like now. A bullet in my thigh, my bones exposed, not enough sleep…

I was in better care as a submissive lower class role in American society. Now I’m in Puerto Rico alone with my thoughts as I cry about my troubles. Where is the arrogant fucking asshole when I need him? And where is Venus!

My heartbeat increases tenfold as I think of all the things they could have done to the innocent dog. Ezekiel put a bullet in me, what would he do to my own dog? I begin to panic, if I could fucking walk I'd be pacing. I slowly stand with the help of the counter, proceeding to keep the towel on my leg.

Panting I make my way to the bed and climb up with yelps and howls of pain. The excruciating throb of my leg makes me light-headed. I thought this.. hospital, felt homey but now all I can feel is dread.

The feeling of impending dooms flows through my veins like a poison on its way to my heart. The blood flow restricts as my mind panics and my heart slows. Tears well in my eyes, the thoughts momentarily pausing the pain that my brain allows me to process. Now back in action I softly cry in pain.

I was sold with no scars yet here I am in this hellhole, with a bullet wound in my thigh. Crumbling into the bed I shake and my bottom lip quivers. I let out strangled whimpers. My eyes struggle to stay open, all the past adrenaline wearing me down.

Damien.. please help me…