"Really? Out of so many things to call me, you decided to call me a junkie?" Nathaniel said, crossing his arms.

You are a simple person, you go from the apartment to work, from work to college, and this happens every day, except Sunday.

You wonder how you ended up here, just a few minutes ago you were riding your bike home, and somehow you were pulled into this underworld of the mafia.

Now you're in this man's bed who was the last thing you saw before you passed out. He doesn't seem to have messed with you, you're still wearing the same clothes, you're just a little disheveled.

"Okay, cutie. You're going to tell me everything you saw in that alley and you're not going to hide anything. And if you do, I'm going to know." Nathaniel pulled out a chair and sat in front of him.

"You can start." He crossed his arms. He looked at you like that, as if he knew you. Like he knows everything about you, but you're pretty sure you've never seen him before.