<-I-L-A-<<< "Give me an hour," Marcella said as we walked into the dining room.

I grabbed another one of the finger sandwiches. "Sounds good."

Marcella was whisked away by people who need to talk to her and I took the chance to head to my room. As I waited in the elevator to take me up to my floor, I unlocked my phone to check my notifications.

I found it odd that I didn't receive one text message. I expected at least Charlotte was going to be my biggest problem. It was her that I was planning to meet on the day Matteo basically kidnapped me. She would have seen my car and noticed I wasn't around and probably would have freaked out if I didn't answer my phone. I thought if I were ever to get my phone back that it would be filled by unread text messages and missed calls from Charlotte and I would have needed to come up with a crazy explanation to cover up the fact that I'm now in organized crime.

I made it to my room by the time I went into the message app. I laid down on my bed when I went to Charlotte's chat. My jaw dropped as I read the lengthy conversation.

Charlotte: I see your car but I don't see you. Where are you?

Charlotte: Ila, are you okay? Where are you?

Charlotte: Is it because you don't want to pay?

Charlotte: I already ordered and paid for your drink. You can come out now.

Charlotte: Ila Emmie Archer, this is not funny.

Me (Ila): Hey, sorry. My phone was on silent and in my purse.

Charlotte: Where are you?

Me (Ila): Just when I got into the donut shop, I got a call from my mother. It was urgent and I had to go but there wasn't enough gas in my car to take me so I called a cab.

Charlotte: You're going to California??? What happened?? Is she alright??

Me (Ila): She is, but my dad isn't. He's in the hospital and the doctors don't know why.

I frowned. It looks like I didn't need a cover-up story since Aurelio got it covered. I scrolled down reading the newest of the message, from three days ago.

Charlotte: PROSTATE CANCER?!?

Me (Ila): I know! I can't believe it! What am I going to do?

I pinched the bridge of my nose as I sighed. Aurelio's creativity took it too far. His excuse as to why he couldn't pick up her phone calls was that he, pretending to be me, had caught a case of a sore throat when accidentally taking a drink of water that belonged to the passenger next to me on the plane ride to California.

Seeing the Aurelio was meddling with my phone, I decided to look through my phone log. It showed that I had declined calls from my mother. Was Aurelio trying to get me killed? It's one thing to miss a call from my mom but it's another when I decline them.

I went back to my text messages and went to my mom's chat, hoping that he had given her a reason.

Mom: Why aren't you answering my calls?

Me (Ila): My phone is glitching. It won't let me answer any calls.

Mom: What is glitching?

Me (Ila): It's kind of like a malfunction.

Mom: Have you tried telling Siri to make it stop?

I chuckled. I bet Aurelio, being the savvy tech he is, got a laugh out of that.

I got out of messages and went to my emails. Other than subscriptions, most of my unread emails were about the Walking Patient incident.

Not wanting to bring my mood down, I left them unread and went on Instagram until Marcella knocked on my door.

"It's open," I yelled out from my bed.

Marcella let herself in. "Get off the bed."

"Why?" I asked, getting off the bed.

Marcella ripped the blankets off the bed and threw the pillows onto the floor. "We need to get these to the laundry room to clean out the cooties."

I laughed. I haven't heard the word "cooties" since elementary school.

Once my made bed was stripped down to the white mattress, we left my bedroom with blankets and pillows in our hands. Marcella and I brought them into the laundry room.

It was a large room filled with every type of laundry detergent for everyone's preferences and 10 pairs of washers and dryers. The layout still made the room feel spacey event with all the stuff inside. Lined up against the wall, the washers stacked over the dryers. Dividing them from the next pair of machines were shelves that displayed the laundry soap and bleaches. In the middle of the walking space, a big and long island with a bunch of big sinks stood.

Marcella shoved the blankets into one washer while I threw the pillows into another. After we got the washers washing, I walked further into the room and opened the two doors that led to the big closet that consisted of bed sets. Bed sheets with matching pillowcases and blankets can be found in any color of the rainbow from vivid yellow to pastel purple.

"I'll call someone to get those to your room," Marcella said. She looked at her watch, "We should get going. I have exactly an hour."

"What got you busy?" I asked as we walked out of the laundry room.

"I have some people to threaten."

I nodded, leaving the conversation at where it was at.

>>>-M-A-T-T-E-O-> I took a sip of my whiskey as I looked out of the plane's window. I was thousands of feet up in the air and no matter how many times I've taken a plane to travel all over the world, I'll never get used to turbulence.

I took my phone out and looked at the lock screen. I have changed it this morning after I took the picture I had switched it to. Before the phone call, I got from my father, I was already awake and I had woken up to a beautiful sight.



The screen showed Ila. She was fast asleep with her bare back facing me. Her long brown hair draped over and down her shoulders. Before taking the lovely photo, I moved the blanket to cover her lower half to keep her from being too exposed.

I grinned as I took another sip of my drink.

Both the picture on my phone and the view outside my plane window were comparably breathtaking.

<-I-L-A-<<< "Why aren't we going to the gym?" I asked as I buckled my seatbelt.

Marcella smiled. "Today's training is special."

Instead of driving into the city, we drove in the opposite direction. As we passed Aurelio's house, the landscape of soft rolling green hills changed into what looked like a camping ground.

"Training for surviving in the woods?" I asked.

Marcella laughed, "No."

I let out a breath of relief as I heard the answer I was hoping for. Marcella droved off the road onto a dirt trail that led to a gravel parking spot surrounded by dry, yellow grass and almost dead trees that barely had any green on them.

We got out of the car and Marcella went to the back of the car. From the trunk, she took out a duffle bag.

"Am I burying a dead body?" I asked, mortified.

"Follow me." She said, tossing the bag over her shoulder. I worried since she ignored my question.

I trailed after her. "Mar, I'm not burying anyone."

"Calm down, notice that I don't have any shovels."

She led me to a path that brought us to a small clearing. A squirrel in a nearby bush quickly turned around, after spotting us, and ran away.

Far ahead in the distance, I spotted some shooting targets. They varied from bullseyes to mannequins.

Beside me, Marcella dropped the bag to the floor. She tied her hair with the hairband on her wrist. When she was done, she bent down to unzip the bag. She pulled apart the flap, revealing a variety of guns and ammunition. I spotted shotguns, rifles and other shooting weapons.

"I'm going to teach you how to use this bad boy." Marcella pulled out a black pistol. I watched her quickly load it as if this was 100th time doing so. "You need to get used to shooting this because, other than me, it'll be your best friend. This guy seriously comes in handy."

When she was done, she stretched her arm to hand it to me. I nudge her hand away. I made sure that I didn't touch the gun as I did.

"I'm a doctor. I save lives, not take them." I told her.

"But it's for self-defense." She said, trying to convince me. "And you'll be shooting at the targets today, not humans."

"Let's head back home," I told her, walking toward the direction we came from.

"Ila." She said, grabbing my arm and turning me to face her, "Mafia business is nasty. If you get put in a situation, you have to think it's either your life or their life."

Living with the mafia, so far, hasn't been as problematic as the people made it seem. Besides, I'm the doctor. It's not my role to do the dirty work. All I have to do is stay at the mafia house and wait for someone to get injured badly enough for them to come into my office. If they decide to bring me to their meets, I'll just wait in the car until they need my assistance.

In other words, learning how to shoot a gun was a waste of time for me. Even so, I don't think I have a strong enough mentality to pull the trigger.

I shook my head, "There won't be a time for that. I won't have to shoot a gun."

Reluctantly, Marcella gave in. She put the black pistol back into the bag and zipped it up.

"Okay, fine," Marcella said, hoisting the duffle bag over her shoulder and walking past by me. "I don't know how you are going to tell your boyfriend."

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Guys... My laptop isn't working anymore, gah!