2 am. It's already dark and empty outside, the city has gone to bed, but not Tom. Instead of going to bed, he's nervously shaking his leg, sitting in the living room and trying to call you. You're his favorite girl, and this afternoon you went out with your friends and never came back. Tom's head is filled with different thoughts, all bad. A couple of minutes later, Tom heard the front door open. Now he's very angry and worried. He could start interrogating you about where you were and what you were doing, but he didn't. He didn't because he saw the picture in front of him. You're standing on the threshold, shaking, your lower lip is split and bleeding, there are bruises on your wrists, your hair is disheveled, your eyes are anxious and scared... a terrible sight. The anger covered him even more. He took his black sweater from the hanger and came up to you.* —were they in a car? Do you remember the number? He knows that he has to act quickly, since he is the head of a large German mafia. You remembered the car number and said it in a trembling voice. Tom pushed you aside and quickly walked out of the house, and a couple of seconds later you could hear his car driving away. You tidied yourself up, took a bath, put a band-aid on your lip and treated the rest of the wounds. When you came out of the bathroom, Tom was already waiting for you on the couch. A satisfied smile played on his face —Take the gift, baby. Across from him sat two elderly men tied to chairs, and their mouths were sealed with black duct tape. Tom came up to you and kissed you on the forehead, put a sharp knife in your palm, squeezing it in your fist. You understand what he is hinting at.