Waking up in Vegas pt-2

For a week it’s been quiet. A little too quiet? The finest fragments of hair stood up on the back of my neck. The universe unbalanced and my fear of the unknown stayed at a heightened state of alert. God, why does anxiety have to choose me for its victim? All my life, well, since the age of 11 this has haunted me. Since the moment I realized that my time on this earth was limited, and in a blink of an eye, I would be gone.

A casino is a safe place, right? Security everywhere, there is no way one could get away with anything, right? Wrong! Money talks, bullshit walks, and when you have old family money, people tend to overlook things.

“I’ll be there in 15 minutes. No later,” those were the words I spoke before my world stopped spinning. Breathless, my anxiety was high when I walked out that door. Little did I know I was walking into the devil’s den and I was on the menu.
“Don’t say a fucking word. Got it,” boom, that voice from behind almost buckled my knees. I couldn’t breathe. I knew what a gun felt like. God, I knew it so well. Ribs pinched, he pushed it deep into my flesh, a searing pain radiated through my body.

“Walk and you won’t stain the carpet of this fine establishment,” his voice gruff and filled with authority.

For a brief second, I thought about screaming and running. Chances are he would shoot me, but that would alert too many people. It was the young pregnant couple that walked down the hall that stopped me. I didn’t want them to take the bullet for me. I could never live with myself if someone innocent died because of me.

Every step felt like walking the green mile. One more. Just take one more step, then another, and another. I felt the closer when got to the elevator, the more I was going to vomit. My head spinning, stomach-churning, and the taste of bile hitting the back of my throat. I couldn’t vomit. I was sure he would shoot me if I ruined those expensive shoes he wore. So far, it was the only part of him I saw, and that was because I kept my eyes to the floor. If I can’t ID him, maybe I will live. I knew that was a longshot, but right now, I am trying for anything just to wake one more day.

My heart raced as we stepped into the little box that suddenly seemed smaller than it ever had. I’m a bit on the claustrophobic side, so elevators are my downfall.




Doors opened to the sound of money, pain, lust, and anguish. Bells and whistles chimed, and the stench of cigarette smoke burned my nose. Whoever this was, he was big. Not fat, but his body built like that of a bodybuilder, or a security guard. No way he was one of my Father’s men. I knew them and they had that roll of fine living around their waist. This one didn’t.

Shuffled through the front doors of the place, the black stretch limo waited, my body thrust forward with no regard to my well being. Hitting the floor of the car, rolled into the fetal position, I could have protected my face, but my body was my concern. I knew the first place they would hit, and unless I was passed out, that wasn’t happening.

“Well, look at you. Your father is right. I’m going to have a lot of fun with you tonight.”

Part 3 coming soon.

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