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Stockholm Syndrome: Chapter 1

        Karen had the perfect life. She was married to her high school sweetheart. She was the executive assistant to Marc Sant’ Andrea, the up and coming fashion designer for Hollywood celebrities. Jason, her husband, was the principal for Doubleday Preparatory, an all-girls private school, and the head coach for the fifth grade volleyball team. 

They were the sweetest and most loving couple, or so they were told, repeatedly by friends and strangers alike. Karen thought she had it all alongside Jason. They had traveled all over the world, but when it came to having children, they both found out they were both infertile. 

But that didn’t stop them. They planned to adopt. It was no big deal. She loved Jason and he loved her. She never thought that this would be her life. 

But yet, Karen longed for more. 
Much more.


Karen walked into the boutique. Marc would send her to do monthly check-ins to the four shops he had in California and the six he had in Europe.  Today, she happened to be in Rome, Italy.

“Alright, I’ll talk to you tonight. I’m about to walk in,” She said. She had her Bluetooth on while she texted Marc.

“Sounds good, you’ll be back Friday, right? I found this new Mexican restaurant. Like Authentic Mexican. None of this Tex-Mex bullshit,” Jason cheerfully said.

“Great, that sounds amazing,” She smiled as she stopped in front of the door, not noticing the surrounding areas, “I can’t believe I left without saying goodbye to you,”

“Well, what can you do? When duty calls, you answer it. But you did kiss me while I was asleep. That counts. I love you, ugly duckling,”

“Love you, too. Muah,” She hung up the phone and walked right in.

As soon as Karen walked in, she saw Greta, Sofia and Leonardo on the floor with tape over their mouths. Their hands zip tied in front of them. They had been blindfolded. The curtains were closed.

“Cosa sta succedendo?” Karen asked out loud. (What is going on?)

She suddenly felt pressure on her left temple. She knew it was a gun to her head. Karen’s heart rate rose. 

“Se fossi in te, Mi chiuderei di bocca aperta e mi siedo! Vogliamo solo i soldi!” the burglar yelled at her. (If I were you, I'd shut the fuck up and sit down. We just want the money)

Karen quickly sat down, and begged,
“Per favore, non farci del male,” (Please don’t hurt us.)

As her words came from her lips, Sofia was crying. Greta had her hands together in what seemed to be in prayer and Leonardo held Sofia’s hand.

The burglar zip tied her and put tape over her mouth. As he was going to blindfold her, the Mastermind stepped from out of the back office with three other men. They all carried AR-15’s from what she could see. All but the Mastermind hid their faces. 
He had a strong jaw line and defining cheek bones. She could see that under his dark attire, his muscles bulged out and defined the clothes he wore. He had a jagged scar above his eye, and a dark brown and red beard. 

He bent down and analyzed her, pleased with what he saw. He saw the fear in her eyes and removed the tape from her mouth,

“Your Italian, it’s great, but not that good,” He said.

“Just take the money. Please let us go. They didn’t see anything. We won’t say anything” she gasped.

“Correct, Mrs. Warren. But you did,” He smiled.

“I won’t say anything. I swear it,” she pleaded.

“And I know that. But how do my men know that? They don’t. You have very beautiful lips, Mrs. Warren. Very red, and pumped with so much blood, they are as full as the moon,” He smiled as he touched her lips.

She backed away and turned her head from him as her eyes darted away hoping they met the eyes of someone who would save her. But there was no one. 

“I suggest you use those plump lips to tell me where Count’s money is,”
Confused, She stared at him.

“Your boss is in bed with some very mean people, Mrs. Warren. Who don’t give a fuck about you, Jason, Sofia, Greta, her son Lorenzo. No one. Not even this fucking twat over there,”
He pointed at Leonardo,

“Look at him squirm like the coward he is,”

“The only coward I see is you,” Karen blurted out, “You and your party of four”

The Mastermind laughed as he looked at the men in the back and said, in Russian,

“Oна у нее больше шаров, чем у этого парня!”(She has more balls than that guy over there).

He turned back and looked at her,

“I think the more appropriate response would have been is how We know who Jason is,”

Now feeling the heat of rage she looked at him with livid eyes and irately whispered,

 “Don’t you dare touch him,”

“Oh, I won’t. But I don’t know about these guys’ or the Count. So once more, Mrs. Warren, where is his money?”

“I have no fucking idea what the fuck you’re talking about,” she yelled at the top of her lungs. 

The Mastermind backhanded her across the face and in the smoothest voice said,

“Well that wasn’t lady like, now was it?”

Karen, helpless on the floor, heard the muffled cries from the other three employees grow hysterically. She saw Sofia tremble and try to get up and leave the danger, but one of the henchmen kicked her back in place. Karen looked back at the mastermind.

“For the last time, Karen, where is the money?” the mastermind asked. 

Karen closed her eyes and for what seemed eternity, went back in time to Friday morning. She lay in bed next to Jason as he slept with his arm over his head, and his fingers touching her shoulder.

She opened her eyes and wished she would have taken her time to watch him sleep in bliss. How she wished for once in her life she would have been irresponsible and missed her flight. What would have happened if she did, lose her job? That seemed like the best option, given the circumstances. She looked at the Mastermind and responded by head butting him.

He didn’t even lose his balance, he just felt the blood flow down his nose as he let it drip down unto the floor,

“She’s a fighter,” he said and head butted her back. 

Karen fell to the floor unconscious. 

The Mastermind, in Italian, told the men to raid the whole shop and take any and everything of value.

“Che ne pensi di loro?” one of his men asked, pointing in the direction of the hysterical victims. (What about them?)

“Uccidili tutti,” he commanded. (Kill them all)

As the sounds of bullets and muffled screams of unsuspecting victims filled the air, the Mastermind picked Karen up and threw her over his shoulder.

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