My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 5 Escape Read online

  MY MASTERS’ NIGHTMARE

  SEASON 1

  EPISODE 5

  “ESCAPE”

  Marita A. Hansen

  Like a television series, My Masters’ Nightmare is broken up into seasons and episodes. A new episode will be published approximately every 3 weeks until a season has ended. There will be fifteen episodes per season.

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  Recap of Episode 4

  1 Thierry

  2 Jagger

  3 Rita

  4 Frano

  About the Author

  Other Books by Marita A. Hansen

  Copyright

  My Masters’ Nightmare

  Season 1, Episode 5

  “Escape”

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2013 © Marita A. Hansen

  Edited by John Hudspith

  Cover design © Arijana Karčić, Cover It! Designs

  Cover Photography by Konrad Bąk

  and sourced from http://depositphotos.com/

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means whatsoever without the written permission of the author, nor circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. For subsidiary rights inquiries email: [email protected]

  All characters, names, places, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  In Episode 4 “Poisoned”

  Bianca confronts Alberto about what he did to Jagger, discovering he also raped Thierry, Jagger’s younger brother. Enraged, she attacks Alberto, but ends up on the receiving end of his boot. After Alberto leaves, she convinces Thierry into helping her poison him.

  Alberto heads to the House of Whores to see Jagger. While there, he runs into Matteo Donatelli, his jealous ex. Matteo blackmails Alberto into having sex with him in exchange for Jagger’s safety.

  Back at home, Bianca takes Frano his lunch, finding him asleep, naked and having a wet dream. Embarrassed, she leaves the room, making sure he is awake before she re-enters. While she is there, the Black Russian phones Frano. She goes to her own room and taps into their conversation through her phone, listening to their disagreement over the Black Russian wanting to buy Jagger. After the call ends, she returns to Frano, making sure he eats all the drugged food so he doesn’t interrupt the Donatelli meeting.

  During the meeting, Bianca gets Thierry to serve Alberto the poisoned wine. But instead, the don’s son takes the wine and ends up dying. Grief-stricken, his father has a heart attack, resulting in two deaths. Alberto finds out that Thierry is responsible and attacks him. In an attempt to save Thierry’s life, Bianca sacrifices herself, knowing that Alberto would kill her.

  Episode 5 “Escape” begins...

  1

  Thierry

  Alberto kept on hitting Bianca and I couldn’t do a thing to stop him. He was at least twice my weight and way taller, the man a terrifying nightmare. Bianca slipped down the wall as he struck her again, what I saw making me want to cry. Her face was unrecognizable, her nose smashed, and the blood ... it was everywhere: her face, her hair, her dress—and covering Alberto’s knuckles.

  Alberto yelled at her in Italian, then kicked her, making me want to scream at him to stop, stop, STOP! But I knew if I did he would do the same to me, so instead I took off up the staircase and sprinted for Frano’s room. Bianca had told me to go to him earlier, but I couldn’t think straight at the time, because I’d just killed two people, the wine that I had served them poisoned. But I didn’t want those men to die, the wine was meant for Alberto, and I also didn’t understand why the older man had died since I’d only seen Bianca poison one of the glasses. Everything was just so confusing. And although I knew the men who had died were bad, even evil, they were going to be mourned, the youngest brother’s wails heartbreaking. I could still hear them in my mind, his grief over his dead father and brother cutting me in two, his broken voice an echo of my own broken past, my maman having also passed away from poison, heroine in her case.

  Tears ran down my face as I entered Frano’s room. He was lying on his bed with a sheet up to his chest, fast asleep. He looked so perfect, the complete opposite of his brother. I didn’t understand how Frano and Alberto could be related, especially since they looked nothing alike. Alberto resembled an ugly Rodin sculpture, roughly hewn with big brows and an unpolished veneer, whereas Frano was perfect, his face hard to look away from, his black hair, his hazel eyes, and that smile he always gave me—it meant so much to me, making me feel special instead of a burden.

  I closed the door behind me and ran over to Frano, shaking his shoulders. He remained fast asleep. I shook him harder. “Frano, wake up.”

  Alberto’s booming voice came from downstairs, making me jump, my heart stopping as he yelled out my name. I froze, utterly terrified as he hollered it again along with profanities, one of them sounding similar to the French word for shit: “Merde” but with an ‘a’ at the end, although all I could think about was what it sounded like in English—murder.

  “I’m going to fucking kill you!” Alberto hollered, his voice drawing closer. It sounded like he was walking up the staircase, the boom, boom, boom of his heavy step matching my heart beat. Doors started slamming, telling me he was searching all of the rooms. “Where are you, fenucca?!” he yelled, calling me a faggot, something I’d learned while walking through the market.

  Snapping out of my frozen state, I shook Frano again, desperate for him to wake up. “Frano, please wake up, pleeease...” I said into his ear, too scared to raise my voice.

  Alberto’s voice drew even closer. I looked over at the door, realizing I hadn’t locked it. Another door slammed, this one belonging to the adjacent room. My eyes shot to the bathroom, wondering if I could hide in there. No, he’d look, I was sure of it, then he’d kill me. My gaze moved to the window, remembering the fire escape ladder outside, every bedroom having one. With my heart in my throat, I ran to the window and opened it wide, then ran back to the bed, quickly crawling underneath it.

  The door opened a second later, then heavy footsteps filled the room, so loud, but not as loud as my pounding heart. I touched my chin to the floor and peered out from under the bed, praying that Alberto didn’t look down, because if he did he would see me, the sheet not hanging over the bed low enough.

  He walked to the window, his curses telling me he thought I’d climbed out. He then went into the bathroom, the sound of water following. I imagined him washing Bianca’s blood off his hands, the red-colored water swirling down the plughole, absolving him of her murder... No, I had to hope she wasn’t dead, that she was just knocked out, and if he left then I could make Frano wake up, so he could help her, because I couldn’t help anyone, let alone myself.

  I sucked in a breath as Alberto exited the bathroom. He headed for the bed, making me fearful he’d spotted me, but instead he spoke his brother’s name. The mattress went down, Alberto sitting right above me, the monster for once not under the bed.

  Alberto started talking, his voice thick with emotion. “I could’ve died tonight,” he said to the sleeping Frano, “luck my only savior, but things are still bad. Don Donatelli and Lucky are dead, Bianca and Thierry responsible. I’d finally progressed with negotiations, gotten them by the balls, then those two bitches fucked it all up. Bianca has paid for what she did, and when I get my hands on Thierry I will crucify
the little fenucca.” He paused, then barked out a laugh. “No, I have a better punishment for him. I’ll trade him for Jagger, after all they do look similar, plus the Padre likes boys and Jagger is all man.” The sound of a kiss followed, then Alberto stood up and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  I stayed under the bed for I don’t know how long, too scared to move, because I wasn’t sure if he was tricking me. I imagined him standing by the door, just waiting for me to crawl out so he could grab me, then punch me over and over again, smashing my face in like he did to Bianca.

  Bianca!

  I need to stop being the bambino they all called me and start being a man, because she needed my help. I poked my head out from under the bed, searching for any sign of Alberto. When I didn’t see him, I crawled out and peeked over the bed, making absolutely sure he wasn’t still in the room. Relieved he was gone, I pushed up and started shaking Frano again, but again, he wouldn’t wake up, the man dead to the world. The thought of him being dead made my heart miss a beat, the memory of the two dead men, the poison, their stillness... Oh mon Dieu! Not Frano! He couldn’t be dead, he couldn’t be! Bianca wouldn’t have done that, NOT to Frano!

  I placed my ear to his chest, the steady beat of his heart the most beautiful sound ever. I wanted to cry out with joy, but kept silent, still too afraid that Alberto would hear me.

  I hugged Frano, so happy that Bianca hadn’t killed him. I knew she didn’t like Frano, but he didn’t deserve to die, not at all, because he was the loveliest man I had ever met. No one was kinder to me than Frano, not even my own brother. Jagger was nice, but I hardly saw him since he was constantly flying to New York for work, unlike Frano, whose office was downstairs, where I often found him asleep at his desk, the man so hard-working.

  I pulled back. “Please wake up, Frano.”

  He remained asleep, his expression peaceful, a complete contrast to the fury I’d seen on Alberto’s face earlier. I wondered where Alberto was now, probably still searching for me. I shook Frano again, frustrated that he wouldn’t wake. I didn’t want to hit him, I didn’t, but I couldn’t think of anything else that would wake him, so I slapped his cheek, but it must have been too soft, because he didn’t react, so I breathed in deep and slapped him harder, cringing as I did it.

  He moaned, but his eyes remained closed, making me feel bad that I had hurt him, although his moan still gave me hope.

  “Frano, please wake up.” I shook him, then slapped him again. He moaned longer this time, but still didn’t wake.

  I started crying, everything too much. It almost made me wish I was back at La Dame Bleue, the brothel in France where my mother and I had worked. I laid my head on Frano’s chest and hugged him. I wanted him to hug me back and to tell me that everything was going to be alright, that Bianca wasn’t dead and that Alberto would never touch me again.

  A hand landed on my back, jolting me upright. I stared down at the Frano’s sleepy face. “What are you doing, ragazzo?” he said, his hand slipping down to land on the bed.

  I went speechless, something I often did around him, because he always took my breath away. Although my mind raced ahead, thinking about everything I needed to tell him, but my mouth refused to utter a single word.

  Frano touched my cheek, using his thumb to wipe away the tears, the concern on his face taking over his sleepy expression. I had thought he’d yell at me for coming into his bedroom, but then again, I didn’t know why I would think such a thing since he’d never yelled at me before—just everyone else. It was a relief, because back at La Dame Bleue yelling always led to me being hurt. Once I had said no to blowing a fat client’s cock, his stomach so big that it covered it completely. The brothel owner had been furious with me, yelling that I was an ungrateful imbecile, then she’d slapped me over and over again before kicking me out on the street. My maman had begged her to take me back, saying she would service the man herself, but she didn’t have what he wanted, so I was made to do it anyway, taking a strapping afterwards for being disobedient.

  “What’s wrong, Thierry?” Frano asked, pushing into a sitting position.

  I leaned in and hugged him, just crying my eyes out, because even though I wanted him to save Bianca, deep down I knew it was too late. His arms wrapped around me, hugging me back. He said something in Italian that I didn’t understand, other than ragazzo, the word for boy, but the tone of his voice was gentle and soothing, his hand stroking my hair, making me want to stay in his arms forever, because he always made me feel safe. He treated me like a son, often calling me a sweet kid. Normally I hated being called sweet, because the men who bought my services at La Dame Bleue liked sweet, but it didn’t have the same connotations coming from Frano. He never asked anything of me, giving me board and food for free, although I did as much as I could, cleaning his house and other such duties, just so grateful for his kindness.

  “Ragazzo, what’s happened?” Frano asked.

  “Alberto killed Bianca.”

  “What?!”

  I pulled back, not wanting to say my next words because I knew he’d hate me for them, but knowing I had no choice. “She-she tried to poison him, and, and she wanted me to-to help her. I didn’t want to, but Alberto is-is raping my brother and he also forced me.” Ashamed, I dropped my gaze, knowing Frano would be disgusted with me, because that was how people usually reacted when they found out men fucked me. I was only a prostituée to them, a nobody born to be used, which was why I’d never fought Alberto. It was my job, it would always be my job, and I shouldn’t complain. And if I was prepared well enough it didn’t hurt. But whenever Alberto came for me, he took me too fast, never allowing me time to prepare, so it always hurt. And he was so disgusting and big, and I hated him, hated his smell, his cock, the way he touched me, kissed me, it was disgusting, and he always smelled of food, and his belly was too big. I hated him! He was more disgusting than me, he was!

  “Where is he?!” Frano growled.

  I flinched, then covered my face, knowing he must hate me for trying to kill his brother. “I’m so sorry, so sorry,” I muttered.

  “This isn’t your fault, bambino,” Frano said, placing a hand softly on my head.

  I jolted as Alberto’s voice traveled through the house.

  Frano let out a growl. “Move, ragazzo.”

  I got off the bed. He went to get up but fell back onto the mattress, appearing a bit dazed, then he shook his head and pushed up again, muttering Italian swearwords. Without looking at me, he headed around the bed, yelling out: “You sick fuck, Alberto!!” at the top of his lungs. “Get here. Now!”

  I remained still, terrified of seeing Alberto. Frano yelled again, making me curse myself for being such a scared bambino. I ran out of the room, catching up with him by the staircase. He was staring down at Bianca, her face a mangled mess. I covered my mouth, unable to stop the sob. Frano glanced back at me, his face sad, then he turned and headed down the staircase, going to Bianca, who was lying next to the kitchen’s entrance. I followed him, unable to look at her straight, what Alberto had done horrifying.

  Frano bobbed down and felt her neck, then placed his ear to her chest. “She’s breathing,” he said, pulling back, “but barely. Call for an ambulance.”

  Huge relief washed over me. I ran for the phone and dialed the emergency number, quickly rattling off Bianca’s condition and our address. Once done, I put the phone back in its cradle, then froze, my eyes locking onto the main entrance, where Alberto had just entered. His gaze instantly snapped to me, the anger and violence rippling off him making me scream. In the blink of an eye, he charged at me, hollering, “You little merda!”

  Frano shot in front of me, taking the full impact of Alberto’s attack. He fell back into me, knocking both of us to the floor, then jumped up and rammed into Alberto, screaming, “I remember!”

  Alberto stumbled backwards, his expression now fearful. “You don’t understand—”

  “You raped Thierry and Jagger, what is there to understand?�
�� Frano spat.

  “Thierry let me—”

  Frano swung out at Alberto, punching him in the face, the sound of bone cracking loud to my ears. “You don’t touch famiglia!” he hollered.

  Alberto cried out, his hands instantly going to his nose.

  Frano shoved him, making Alberto stumble backwards, the big man not so big in his brother’s presence. “How could you do that? How?!” Frano yelled at him.

  “It wasn’t rape,” Alberto said, his voice sounding pained.

  “Liar!” Frano swung at his brother again, hitting Alberto in the side of the head. Alberto fell against the staircase, crying out as Frano kicked one of his knees, sending him crashing to the floor. “You deserve to die, not Bianca,” Frano spat. “I should smash your face in until you’re no longer breathing.”

  Alberto lifted an arm. “You can’t, you’re my brother.”

  Frano leaned over Alberto, his profile vicious. “I know, but I can banish you. You are to pack your bags and leave instantly.”

  “No, I’m the one wronged,” Alberto said, still covering his nose, the blood from it dripping onto the floor. “Bianca and Thierry tried to murder me.”

  “Of which they had every right to. How could you do that to Jagger and Thierry? How? They are blood.”

  “Cousins only.” Alberto grabbed the staircase and struggled to his feet, his blood now dripping onto his white shirt. “And Thierry never fought me; that is the honest truth.”

  “Of course he didn’t, he’s a child and you’re twice his size.”

  “He’s not a child.”

  “He is to me, and as long as he lives, he’s under my protection.”

  “Which won’t be for long.”

  Frano stepped closer to Alberto. “If you touch him again I will forget we are brothers.”

  “So, you side with a common puttano over me?”