Page 11 of The Freedom in Captivity

Shortly after Rozelyn left, I dropped out of high school. I was only attending because I was legally forced to, but her sudden absence in my life had me questioning its purpose. Attending class became worth it to see her smile. But once she left, she took the meaning with her. Why would I return home to be smacked around, when she wouldn’t be able to heal me the next day?

The same day she said goodbye, I wandered the city, reflecting on everything her and I ever spoke about, dissecting her final words. That night, I only went home for a bag of supplies, but never again.

Never returned to that place, or to school, and my father clearly never bothered to report me missing. Dropped-out and lived on the streets, hiding in alleys at night, stealing food when necessary.

It was months later when Lorenzo and Caterina Corsetti found me camped between two buildings, one of which happened to be a club they owned. Hiding behind a dumpster, counting the money I had snatched from a pedestrian earlier that day, Caterina spotted me.

“Holy fuck, you’re just a kid,” she breathes, her knowing eyes scanning me, right down to the clothing that needs a wash. “What are you doing out here?”

I don’t answer.

“Enzo, get over here.” She pulls at the man standing beside her before approaching me slowly, her rich heels striking against the dirty alleyway.

I shy away, tucking my money into my pocket as I push to my feet. From my boot, I snatch my pocket knife, lifting it to eye height in warning for them to stay away.

“Wrong choice.” The man shoves his wife aside, a gun immediately in his hand, directed right at me.

I falter, leaning into the brick at my back. They block the entrance, and the alley’s a dead-end, which means there’s no escape. A knife against a gun won’t win. Given his mass and healthy demeanour, compared to my half-starved, weakened state, I won’t win in a hand-to-hand fight either.

The woman nudges his arm out of the way, forcing the gun toward the ground. “Enzo,” she chastises, “he’s a kid. He’s scared.”

“He threatened you.”

“To keep himself safe.” Turning to me, she takes another step forward, her hands held up, palms out in a submissive signal. “We won’t hurt you. Can you tell me your name?”

“So what then?” Rozelyn’s voice cuts through the memory, bringing me back to the present.

It’s okay though because it was yet another reminder of my reality. Rozelyn’s absence drove me to the streets, but Caterina saved me. It started with revealing my name, and then them getting me assistance. A place to stay that night, some food, a shower, and new clothing.

And then an offer. I still don’t know why. Why me, a random kid from the streets. All Caterina has ever admitted was she saw something in me that day. They gave me a home, a new purpose in life, and I never looked back, even when they forced me to get my GED, ensuring I at least had my high school education under me.

“You’re going to stay down here?” Rozelyn asks snidely.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be. Watching you fall apart sounds pretty fucking appealing.”

“Fuck you. It’ll be a long few days then because I told you, I have my own plans, and they include shutting my mouth for the time being. It’s for your boss’s own good.”

Her words make no sense. She’s always spoken in riddles. Always used words that implied she had a richer education than she ever let on. Like she had come from another life, but never mentioned details. Always avoided my questions when I knew there was something more to her.

“What’s that mean?”

She doesn’t respond, but honestly, I don’t really care.

With a deep sigh, I stretch my legs out in front of me and lean against the brick wall. It’s gonna be a long night.

Rozelyn never could handle silence for long, and apparently that habit remains all these years later. “Are you seriously going to keep me chained in this chair?”

Staring through the room toward her, I wonder how much of me she can make out. “Yep.”

She grunts. “Getting out of this damn chair would be great. Ever get stabbed in the leg and forced to be upright before? If you haven’t, it fuckingsucks. Find me a bed.”

So demanding. De Falco certainly trained her to take no shit.

I laugh humourlessly. “Why would I do that?”

“Because if you want me strong for your torture, I need proper rest.”

She’s right, but she’s still not getting it. “Suffer.”

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