A Real One

Chapter 1

Myrtle

The loud crash outside wakes me up from my sleep. But then again, even a whisper would be enough these days.

What follows is the sound of people scurrying outside. I can see their shadows move across my window.

I sit up huddled underneath my sheets, hugging a pillow for extra protection. The digital clock on the bedside table reads 1:58. The last time I checked, probably right before I began to drift asleep, it was 12:43.

I can’t push the gnawing curiosity in my stomach away. Slowly, I walk to the door.

After making sure that the door chain is locked tight, I peer out. It proves useless though. I can only push half my cheek through the gap.

“Excuse me,” I call out to a man before he passes through my door. “What’s going on?”

“Car crash across the street. No need to worry. Police are on their way.”

“Oh, thank you,” I reply.

He gives a reassuring smile before walking away, probably to lock himself back in his room three doors away. But I don’t feel any better.

I’ve been in this motel for less than a week, my third for this month alone. On the rare occasions that I go out, I’d usually run past him as he gets ice from the machine near the front office.

The man seems nice enough. He’s always ready to say a quick hello and walk away afterward, never a word out of place.

Does he have things to run away from like I do? Why is he here? And for how long now?

I don’t think he lives with anyone. I’ve only ever seen him go in or out from his unit.

Five days ago, when I first got the key to this room, I happened to chance upon him just getting out of his room. I tried to dodge his gaze, but his cheery smile reaches me first, and I can’t stop myself from smiling back, albeit a much more reserved one than his.

Six weeks ago, I started motel hopping, leaving my apartment in the city to a subletter. It was easier than asking a friend who might ask too many questions. It was hard to leave, but peace of mind comes at a price.

I couldn’t stay there anymore. Ivano keeps popping out of nowhere.

I thought he’d give it a rest when I talked to him the day before my flight home from Italy. I didn’t even ask him to come by. He just popped up at my hotel room for absolutely no reason.

When I got back to New York, things got worse as I realized he followed me all the way across the ocean, even bringing along his goons to scare me.

Ivano’s part of a long line of mafia kings. His father, his father’s father, even his father’s mother (at one point), all came to be called Don. Now, it’s Ivano who gets to hold that power and abuse it until he has his way with me.

My first few days back, I’d walk out of the apartment and find big, burly men looking at me from across the street. Sometimes, I’d even see them at my favorite restaurant when I went to grab lunch with my friends.

I’ve been keeping my curtains closed the whole time I was home. The fact that I was living on the building’s eighth floor did nothing to reassure me. They could be watching from the building next door, for all I know.

The police aren’t much help, telling me they can’t actually do anything since I’ve never been harmed physically.

“So, you fucking want me to get stabbed first or something before you actually do anything?” I ask in a mix of fright and rage.

No, I don’t think anyone can help me at this point.

My family doesn’t know. And they still call me like everything’s fine with them back at home.

Good, I think. At least he hasn’t gotten to them yet.

Yet.

The thought of it happening soon scares me.

And just like that, my thoughts keep me awake until the crack of dawn. The clock beside me beeps for its 6:30 alarm.

I decided to call my best friend.

“Babe! How have you been? I couldn’t reach you,” she says as soon as she picks up on the first ring.

“I got a new burner phone.”
“You get a new one every two weeks.”
“I know. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Silence.

“So, how are you? Where are you?” she finally asks.

“A new motel.”

“You still haven’t told your parents?”
“No. Andrea, you’re the only one I can talk to about this.”

“Well, they’re gonna get suspicious sooner or later.”
“I hope not,” I reply meekly.

It’s like all the hope in me has faded away. I can’t believe a dream vacation in Italy three months ago has now come to this.

“Babe…” I start to say.

“Hmm?”

Andrea knows to not drop the call even through fits of silence. She knows how much I just need to know there’s someone on the other end.

I’m lucky she’s my best friend.

“I can’t do this anymore.” Tears start forming in the corner of my eyes. My voice even cracks.

“Oh, sweetie. Don’t cry. Hey, hey! Listen. We’ll get you out of this mess.”

“How?” I wipe the snot falling from my nose.

“My cousin.” Her tone seems all at once unsure yet proud of the sudden revelation. “My cousin of course! He’s an ex-navy SEAL.”

“And?”

“He lives somewhere in the outskirts of New York. Beautiful little town. I mean, I’ve never been there, but Mom and Dad talk about it sometimes. ‘Beautiful little town’ is what my dad would always say.”

“He lives there?”

“Alone, yeah. Bit of a recluse, really. But I’m pretty sure he’d be happy to help. I’ll give him a call today.”

I nod furiously and only mumble a small “m-hmm” when I realized Andrea doesn’t have any clue of my response.

After a while, I tell her I need to get some stuff done.

It’s a lie though. I don’t have anything to do at all. But Andrea doesn’t have the heart to drop the call, so I’m always the one who has to say goodbye first.

“Love you, babe!” she shouts.

“Love you, too.”