Page 1 of Capuleto

1

The Awakening

Ifeel neither cold nor heat. I just have a lukewarm body.

Yes, that was it, that's how I found myself, wrapped in a state of temperance.

My stomach was churning and protesting.

I stretched my arms and legs, they felt numb, without strength.

A gentle swaying cradled me, and the scent of salt stung the back of my nostrils. I moved my neck to one side and contorted my face in a gesture of pain. The nose. I remembered the headbutt, the hotel room, and that voice that I was now not sure if it had been the product of a mental trick from the drug. I raised my fingers and, without being able to open my eyelids, gently felt the nasal septum.

Someone had treated it, there was a dressing covering it. It didn’t seem broken, surely it was just a good contusion. It wasn’t the first time I had taken a hit while training. They were usually quite noisy.

I licked my dry lips, I was thirsty. My body needed to release whatever had been administered to me. The movements I could make were not fluid but heavy; it would take a while before I was fully capable.

However, I had to move and assess my overall state. I was not tied up, which could be as good a sign as it was bad. If they hadn't done it, it was because whoever was holding me had sufficient means so that I wouldn't pose a danger. Nobody would be foolish enough to give a hostage total freedom. It took me five minutes to fully open my eyes. I found myself lying down, on a comfortable bed, the space was not gigantic, but it was large.

The furniture looked quality, and everything was covered with polished and shiny wood. My stomach flipped again. I felt the need to stand up and empty the contents somewhere.

Everything swayed around me. I put my feet on the warm floor. I barely managed to contain what my stomach wanted to expel. I grabbed a wastebasket and emptied the contents of my guts until only a dull burn remained in my esophagus.

I spit out the remnants and found an unopened bottle of water on the desk. I didn’t trust what it might contain after the incident with the glass of champagne.

I decided it was better to hold on and check if I was locked in.

The place was a cabin. I hadn't looked through the porthole window, which was covered by a circular blind, but if I had raised it, I would surely have seen the sea.

I reached the door and, against all odds, the handle offered no resistance. I peeked out. I didn’t see anyone outside, just a long corridor that continued the woodwork of the room. The vessel lurched as soon as I stepped outside the room.

My shoulder hit the side of the wall, and a grunt formed in my vocal cords. The space was not very wide, barely two meters, if that. I needed to focus and understand what was happening. I extended my arms from side to side to keep myself upright and not fall over. I came across a door on the right and opened it stealthily. I didn’t know what might be waiting for me behind it. A bathroom. I breathed a sigh of relief; it was just what I needed. I didn’t know if the water was potable, so I just rinsed my mouth without swallowing. I expelled the acidic aftertaste and took the opportunity to empty my bladder.

I was still wearing the bathrobe. Some spots of dried blood broke the whiteness of the soft terry. I got up from the toilet seat, pulled the chain out of habit, cursing myself inside because someone might have heard it.

I waited a few moments with my ear pressed against the wooden door panel. No running that would raise the alarm. Better. I stood in front of the sink and observed my reflection. I was a mess. My face had swollen under the eyes, it was bruised, and my hair looked like a bird's nest. As I had noticed earlier, someone had treated my nose.

Despite that, a cluster of small bloodied crusts clogged part of the nostrils.

I gently cleaned them. After clearing them with damp paper, I ran my nails through my hair looking for a more presentable image. Who was responsible for this? My mind sent a name that I immediately dismissed. No, no, and no. I refused to listen to that voice whispering a name so specific it would destabilize me completely. It was impossible, my subconscious had tricked me because it longed to put a face to those words I couldn't remember.

I freshened up a bit more, hoping to clear my mind completely. I needed all five senses to face whatever came next. Whoever had sent that amateur hitwoman wanted me alive; otherwise, they would have finished me off by now. The vessel made another abrupt movement, forcing me to cling with all my strength to the washbasin.

The sea was as turbulent as I was. In the morning, the wind blew harder than usual and, now, I feared it was blowing even stronger. I just hoped a storm wouldn’t break out. Which led me to the next question: how much time had passed? An hour, two, five since we left the island? It wasn’t my first time on a boat, so

I knew we were moving, but I had no idea in which direction. I took another look at myself to gather courage. The first thing was to get a handle on the environment, and the second to find something I could use to defend myself. In the bathroom, there was nothing beyond toilet paper or a shower head anchored to the ceiling.

With both options discarded, I ventured back into the hallway. Under the next door, light was seeping through. I skipped it and went straight to the staircase that went up. I passed by two more entries beyond that. I climbed several steps to reach the next floor. Upon arriving, I found a spacious lounge with several sofas, a giant screen, a bar cabinet, and an exit to an outdoor terrace with a jacuzzi.

Yacht and super-luxury went hand in hand on that vessel. The waves were intense; I wasn’t mistaken, we were sailing, and the roar of occasional thunder could already be heard.

The place was deserted; I would have to venture out and find a possible weapon, a phone, or information that would clear up the mystery drilling into my head.

I started to frantically open and close drawers.

Given the scarcity of belongings and personal items, I would say that the boat did not belong to any specific person, perhaps it was owned by a company that rented out vessels. Had they done it solely to get me out of Santorini?

Several footsteps echoed on the staircase leading to the next level of the boat.

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