NATASHA

My eyes opened. The first thing I saw was the same man in the bandana, holding a kitchen knife in his hand, pointing it between my two eyes.
"Took you long enough. Your friend here was awake an hour before you." He laughed. I peered over to the side, using my peripheral vision, and Clara was sitting next to me, her mouth duct-taped, both her hands zip tied behind her, her legs tied onto the legs of the chair she was on. Now, because I couldn't move at all, I'm guessing I was in the same situation. The knife was still pointed at my face, and a drip of sweet trailed down my neck. The man scoffed and walked towards Clara. The room was poorly lit. It was dark, I could barely see the top half of this man's face. I had no clue where we were. He took the duct tape off Clara's mouth and mine.
"Explain to sweet Natasha here what you've done. It's your last time seeing eachother anyway."
"I'm so sorry Natasha- again." She said, her voice was shaky. The man abruptly left the room chuckling.
"What did you do this time Clara."
"I can explain everything."
"Do explain."
"He set me up Natasha. Everything I said to you at the funeral; it's all true. But there was one thing that we missed. He was watching us at the funeral the entire time and when you left-" her voice broke, "when you left he came up to me to tell me what to do Natasha. He wanted us to go to the bathrooms at that bar. But I couldn't find a way to make that happen unless I cried, to find a good excuse to get us into the bathroom. I'm sorry Natasha. I had no control over this-"
"It's fine, it's fine." I sighed. I tried to contain my frustration but it was hard to, when my limbs are all frozen and tied up.
"I'm not finished. He said that- he said that I'll be- killed, after this. But not you. I'm sorry Natasha I love you I didn't mean for any of this to happen and I don't want our last memory together being, well, this."
"I love you too Clara but I don't understand why this is all happening, I don't want you to die-" The man with the black bandana walked in again.
"You done talking?" He said to Clara. She nodded without saying a word. He walked up to her quietly, his pant pockets holding scissors in them, and his hands holding a gun. A gun. He pointed the gun towards her forehead, and it she was shaking.
"Any last words love?" He said, removing his black bandana while he devilishly smiled, peering into my soul, then looking back to her. He cocked the gun, and pressed it harder onto her forehead.
"I'm sorry for everything I did I just want you to forgive me Tash-" A deep bang erupted, my eyes were shut the whole time; closed so tightly. I wouldn't be able to handle my best friend getting shot in the head like this. Her last words hurt. I'm sorry Clara. I opened my eyes, but it stung. The cold concrete floor pooled with dark blood, coming from Clara's frigid, soulless body. It hurt so bad I couldn't cry. I couldn't explain the type of anger I felt towards this man, but I was sure he deserved nothing but tragedy in his life. Some of Clara's blood was stained on my clothes, and her head tilted down. She was gone. I couldn't process it still.
"You are a fucking psychotic piece of!-" he cut me off.
"Hm. You don't want to end up like your friend here, do you? Stay quiet." His voice was threatening and demanding, but yet, he still had that pathetic smile on his face, "if you dare try to escape, you'll know exactly what your fate is, Miss Russo." He laughed, while he glanced quickly to Clara's frigid, lifeless body.
"My last name is O'Connor, smartass-"
"Stay quiet, Miss Russo." He snarled, while he pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Don't move."
The man left the room, and I was stuck in there with Clara's dead body. Even if I broke loose from this contraption, I'd be locked in this room, so there was no point. He came back into the room again, running his fingers through his thick black hair, holding scissors.

What was he going to do to me.

He tied something around my eyes, and my vision was gone. Then, he cut the zip ties around my ankles that were on the legs chair, and finally I could stand up, although my hands were still tied together.
"Stay quiet, or these scissors will be in your throat."
I stayed silent. Not even a hiccup or a gulp. He pushed me out the door, and led me somewhere. I had no idea where I was going, but importantly I had no idea who this guy was. There sound of a car door unlocking, and he tugged my shoulder. "Get in Natasha."

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

It's been thirty minutes and I'm still sitting at the backseat of a car while two men talked in front of me. I was getting so frustrated from there time to time snickers here and there. The car pivoted and came to a stop. The sound of two car doors slamming simultaneously. Then my side of the door opened. He took the blindfold off me and what I saw made my jaw drop.

Multiple private hangars each with expensive jets in them. One stood out, and it was parked outside the hangar. It was golden and white, very elegant. When you think of somebody drugging you, knocking you out, then leaving you in a random basement until you woke up beside your bestfriend, then watching that same bestfriend getting shot in the head by the same man who's currently parked outside multiple private jets? In seems unreal; fake. Who was this man?
"Follow me." He said, as I followed him walking towards the private jet that was outside of the hangar. It was windy, my hair was going all over my face, but there was nothing I could do except suck it up. Soon, the stairs flung open from the private jet, and the man standing at the door made a hand gesture to the man I was walking behind. That must be the pilot. I couldn't ask him where we were going since he would probably shoot me with the Luger situated in his right pocket. I took a good look at the man in front of me. He was dressed in a black full sleeve jumper, and beige linen pleated pants. His hair was slicked back and it looked wet; but not too wet, and he had an expensive watch around his wrist. He walked up the stairs and I followed him in hesitantly. I wasn't too mad I was following this stranger into a private jet since I'd never stepped foot into one; nonetheless never thought I'd step foot into a jet with my hands zip tied behind me. But when I walked in, I had to take a double look at who I'd found inside.

My father, my mother, and- Dane??

They were all kidnapped by this very same guy. Weird.
"Sit, Natasha." He said, his eyes locking onto the empty seat next to Dane. Great. I wonder how long this'll take. I sat down, and the mystery kidnapper with a scar across his cheek, cut the zip ties, and tied new ones around the hand rests of the seat. I heard footsteps behind me, and was greeted with a middle aged man that came over to buckle my seatbelt. I felt like a dumb child.
"He took my parents too, but they're not on board which means that-" Dane was interrupted.
The man came close to Dane, holding a pocket knife. "Stay quiet." He stood back, and pasted a fake smile across his face.
"We welcome Natasha Russo onboard!" He grinned mischievously.
"No that's not my-"
"Yes it is." He said, his deep-set, downturned sunken green eyes darkening as he peered into me, "right mother?"
I looked over to mum, she was flushed, looking down at her feet. What does he mean by mother.
"Right mother?" He said, this time a little more aggressive and demanding.
"Yes." She said, quickly trying to avoid my eyes.
He is my brother. The same eyes, same hair, same features. I only realised just now. If the definition of "jaw dropped" was literal, my jaw would've fallen off, sitting on the ground. This psychotic, sociopathic, and narcissistic bitch was my brother. Suddenly I wanted to remove my genes and swap them with someone else's because I did not want to be affiliated with such a person. Dad was sitting on the seat next to mum rethinking his life decisions. I couldn't blame him.
"Well you're all probably wondering who I am," he chuckled and grinned widely, looking over to Dane, "I'm Niklaus, Russo"
Danes eyebrows furrowed and his fists tightened. It was obvious Dane was trying to look for Niklaus this entire time.
"How were the notes Dane?"
"Fuck you" Dane said, furiously.
"Aw, hush." He chuckled, stepping back getting closer to the cockpit of the plane, "enjoy the flight."

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

Where were we going? I had no idea. Judging by the wealth of my "brother" it should be nice. Or maybe he's taking us somewhere nice, to then proceed to shoot us in the head with his Luger.
"When is this dude gonna unziptie our hands? It's not like we would jump off the plane or anything." Dane said, clearly getting annoyed at the fact that our hands haven't moved positions in hours, nonetheless we haven't even gotten food. Seriously?
Mum and Dad were talking amongst themselves. But then I remembered something. I remembered that baby romper in my room. Was it his? What happened to him? Maybe he's just misunderstood.

Or maybe he's just a bitch in general.

Niklaus walked into our section of the private jet, as the jets door burst open, and the stairs flew down.
"Put the blindfolds on them. Now." He clicked. 4 men walked up the flight of stairs, and came around all of us, put blind folds on us.
Seriously what was the point of the blind folds.
The men clenched our forearms so right that I probably would've lost full circulation to the lower half of my hand if he didn't let go for more than 5 minutes. I didn't even know where we were going. He was keeping it a secret from us so that we wouldn't have any idea of which direction to go if we escaped.

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

The man took the blindfold off me, and the others. I was astounded to see what I saw.
It was beautiful; large chandelier, two flights of long stairs, black marble ground, elevators, it was amazing. But the situation I'm in to reach to this point was not so amazing.
"This is the Marchetti Mansion." Niklaus said, mischievously smiling at Dane.
"Niklaus I've had enough," Dane scoffed, "what does this whole Marchetti thing have to do with me-"
A lady wearing black formal attire approaches us, she grins, putting her two hands together. "Is this Carlos's son?"
"Yes." Niklaus answered, "Dane, this is your father's good friend, Alma."
"How do you know my Dad?" Dane said frowning his eyebrows.
"He used to be the-" Alma was interrupted.
"We'll talk later." Niklaus said, patting Danes back.