Chapter Thirty-Two
ROME
“Well, shit,” I mumbled as I watched the building light up in flames. I hadn’t expected it to be so… flammable.
I had managed to start a fire with the zipper on the jeans Andi had given me, and the paper trays that had held my food. I took that little fire and set light to everything else in my little cage. It was impulsive and a bit stupid, but I wasn’t known for making the best decisions. I would argue I was notorious for doing the exact opposite.
I couldn’t be locked in that cage for a minute more. I needed to get out to see my family… to see Bec. I didn’t want them to go one more day thinking I was gone. I needed them to know I was here, fighting to get back to them. Nothing would stop me, not Andi, not William Sr., and not the stupid cage that had been my prison.
The locking mechanism was impossible to pick, but the fire was enough to set off the alarms and the safety measures. The sound of the lock clicking open, finally setting me free, was music to my ears.
It had taken longer than I had expected for the lock to disengage. The fire was growing in my cage, and I could feel it singeing my skin. The door had opened, just in the nick of time. I had been blinded by the smoke, and my throat was raw from breathing it in.
The problem with an abandoned building, is that it usually isn’t up to code, and it seemed neither was this one. The moment that door was opened, I ran. Every bit of energy left in me, and the anger that had been pulsing through my veins after everything… it all kept me going as I desperately searched for a way out. When the sun finally hit my skin, the light of the world blinded my vision as my feet hit the pavement. I knew that I had made it.
I caught my breath on the sidewalk across from the building. It was now engulfed, flames spilling from the windows, and the heat blistering in the cool, winter air. It had snowed while I had been in there, the sidewalk was icy and piles of grey snow lined the streets from the plows. I just stared, watching the building burn. Within minutes, sirens were sounding in the air—at least someone had the wherewithal to call the fire department. The red trucks came screeching around the corner, as the sirens echoed through the air and bounced off the buildings around us.
After months of being isolated from the world, the sights and sounds around me were overwhelming. I wasn’t sure where to focus… every sound was pulling my attention, but only for a moment before I was distracted by something else.
The firefighters jumped into action upon their arrival at the scene. They assessed the building and began working to contain the fire. I had a feeling they wouldn’t be able to stop it, but they could prevent it from spreading.
One of the men in the back quickly glanced over his shoulder. The sight of me must have drawn his attention, as he did a double-take before turning fully towards me, with a concerned look on his face.
“Hey, man, are you okay?” He called from across the street.
I scrubbed a hand down my jaw. I had grown a short beard in the last few months, and the feeling of the hair was unfamiliar against my hand. “I have no idea.”
“Were you in there?” He asked and pointed to the building as he crossed the street to speak to me.
“Yeah,” I muttered.
He looked me up and down. I knew I looked like a complete wreck. I was still dressed in my black suit that Bec had relentlessly made fun of, but it had become the only connection I had to my life outside of that glass hellhole. The suit jacket was somewhere in the building, probably on fire. I had a feeling I reeked. I remember feeling like I smelled gross about two months ago, but I had somehow gotten used to it. Andi had given me baby wipes a few times, so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.
“How long?” The firefighter asked. “How long were you in there?”
“What day is it?” I knew I was in shock. My mind was having difficulty accepting the reality that I was out. I continued to stare at the building. The firefighters were now spraying waterthrough the air, trying to stop it from spreading. I didn’t want them to. I wanted it to be destroyed.
The firefighters' eyes grew wide, “January 14th.”
I swallowed hard, counting the days quickly in my head. “Ninety-two days. I was in there for ninety-two days.”
“Fuck,” he mumbled and called over his shoulder to what I assumed were the paramedics before turning back to me, “I have a feeling you weren’t in there willingly?”
I shook my head and braced my hands on my knees. My breathing began to speed up, coming in quick, short bursts. My heart pounded against my chest, like it was trying to escape.
Ninety-two days. I had spent ninety-two days locked in a fucking cage by a psychopath. My family thought I was dead. Bec thought I had abandoned her. My breathing increased, my vision tunneling as it all came crashing down.
I had been held captive for ninety-two days.
Suddenly, there was a flurry of people around me. I could hear voices, but it sounded as if they were underwater. While I was acutely aware of the people trying to help me, I couldn’t focus on them. I couldn’t focus on anything.
“You lost around thirty pounds, Mr. Cipriani,” the doctor explained. “You’re dehydrated, your vitamin D levels are low, but considering all that happened, you’re doing exceptionally well.”
I nodded, “Thank you.”
After my panic attack on the street, I was put in an ambulance and driven to the hospital. I could barely remember the drive; I just remember asking for my family repeatedly. When we got to the hospital, they pumped me with some anti-anxiety meds and did an initial evaluation. Detectives and police officers had been attempting to question me the entire time, but I wasn’t even sure where to begin. They were still having a hard time believing I was actuallytheRome Cipriani, since their records showed I had been dead for months.
“Sir, is there anything else you can provide us?” The detective in the corner of the hospital room asked again. The doctor shot him a glare, clearly upset by the disruption.
