Author's Note: This is just another essay I had to write on. The quote's from A Million Pieces by James Frey. Yeah so enjoy.
"I wake to the drone of an airplane engine and the feeling of something warm dripping down my chin. I lift my hand to feel my face. My front four teeth are gone, I have a hole in my cheek, my nose is broken and my eyes are swollen nearly shut. I open them and I look around and I'm in the back of a plane and there's no one near me. I look at my clothed and my clothes are covered with a colorful mixture of spite, snot, urine, vomit, and blood. I reach for the call button and I find it and push it and I wait and thirty seconds later an attendant arrives."
"How can I help you?"
"Where am I going?"
"You don't know?"
"No."
"You're going to Chicago, Sir."
Chicago? But, why am I going there? Especially in this condition, I thought as I made my way into the bathroom. Glancing at the mirror, I see something shine and I turn toward the mirror and gape in horror at a ghastly creature, covered with bloody cuts and blackened bruises, who returned my stare. Mein gott, how did I get this again? Instinctively, I lift my hand to touch the hole in my cheek but quickly retreated from the pain. Furrowing my brow as I concentrated, parts of past events began to replay in my mind.
Gasping and breathing heavily for air in a dark room with pain aching in every part of my body, and the sadistic chuckle of the culprit, I continued to suffer. In the corner, the sun shone brightly on my brother, with light reflecting back from his cross necklace, as he tried to call me several times across the room. However, his cries were left unanswered as I continuously lose my consciousness and his calls silenced with a painful beating. The figment ended as a man pulled the trigger in my face, and I was back to reality, gripping my identical cross necklace tightly, as the sound of my name rang in the intercom.
"Ludwig Beilschmidt, Ludwig Beilschmidt, please see come to the staff lounge," with these instructions in mind, I forcefully tear away my gaze from the mirror and exited the restroom.
Although the passengers averted their eyes as I passed, their stares could be felt as I walk around aimlessly. A young woman, dressed in what seems to be a maid's outfit, introduced herself, "Hello, Mr. Beilschmidt, please come this way."
We walked pass several rows of seats till they become completely desolated, however we continued walking forward, only stopping at a sealed door. Making a gesture with her hand, I stayed a few meters back, cautiously waiting. Knocking softly, a few shuffling feet was heard with a click tailing, and the door opened hesitantly.
"Oh it's only you Natalia, did you bring along him with you?" in the doorway, was English gentleman, Arthur Kirkland, the head of the British mafia, he had disheveled dirty blonde hair and thick eye brows that resembled furry caterpillars. His olive eyes turned in my direction and began speaking, "Pleasure to see you again Ludwig. Please come inside, we have a few things to discuss."
Hesitantly accepting his invitation, Natalia and I enter the room, with eyes immediately responding to my entry. Whispers and glares were directed to my direction, and soon the room was engulfed with tight tension. Most of these people were my acquaintance, and I was pretty confident that I knew what the other people were as well. They were the all part of the mafia, but they weren't the mafia, they were the leaders of each mafia, the head honcho. Suddenly a figure pounce on me and we fell to the floor, temporarily knocking me unconscious due to my weaken state.
Rubbing my head to alleviate some of the pain, I look down to see a young brunette girl hugging my chest. Lifting her head from my chest, her amber eyes met my blue eyes and I recognized my attacker.
"Feliciana? What are you doing here?" I shouted in surprise, as murmurs became louder as she began to explain. Feliciana was a very close friend of mine when I visited Italy. She has brown curly hair that she puts in a ponytail, amber eyes, and a curl that sticks out to her left. She is a very dense idiot but that sometimes works out for the best when our perverted French friend comes to visit to explain the meaning of l'amour, WITH examples. Feliciana acts very child-like, despite being only nineteen. She is very garrulous and mostly spouts random rants about "pasta" while using hand motions to help her speak. On the surface she's a euphoric and genial angel, but deep down in the abyss is a demon that waits to be exploited. Angering Feliciana is a death sentence, but fortunately, her anger happens sporadically.
"Ve~ Lovi needed to talk to Alfred so I came along to help out," Lovina is the eldest daughter of the Vargas family. Lovina and Feliciana are twins but there are a few ways to differentiate them. Lovina's hair is a darker shade than Feliciana's, Lovina's hair is down and her curl sticks up to the right. Lovina is very pugnacious, obstinate and over-protective. She would always curse insults even if she doesn't truly believe in them. For some reason, she doesn't like me and my brother much, but then again, the way she speaks to everyone, you'd think she'd hate the world. "Luddy, what happened to your face?"
"Erm…. There was …an accident," I said, explaining the situation in a vague and euphemistic way. Tilting her head, she begins to question my response until her sister detaches us.
"What the hell are you doing to Feli you bastardo? Don't touch her!" Lovina yelled, making everyone in the room cringe. In an attempt to calm the furious Italian down, Antonio, Lovina's boyfriend, slips behind her and hugs her waist, making her direct her anger towards the Spainard. "What the hell are you doing tomato b*stard? F*ck, let go of me!"
Lovina's struggling is interrupted when a blonde American, sitting in the corner of the room, clapped, gaining everyone's attention. He was wearing a bomber jacket and thick glasses. "It's nice to know that everyone's getting along. Since everyone's here, let the meeting commence. I'm Alfred F. Jones, boss of the American Mafia. Just call me 'America' because I'm the hero." Being the head of a mafia is hazardous so many heads keep their identity hidden with nicknames, usually being the country of the mafia. I was called Germany, and Gilbert was called Prussia. Feliciana is called "Northern Italy" or "Veneziano" and Lovina is called "Southern Italy" or "Romano". Antonio is called "Spain" and Arthur is known as "England" or "Britian".
Considering that America was the 3rd most feared mafia in the world, complete silence was considered a common reaction, with the exception of Lovina, smirking. She emitted out an ominous aura, as she stated threateningly, "You shouldn't act so arrogant, hamburger b*stard. After all, the mafia originated from Italy, "Morte Alla Francia Italia Anelia", they'll gladly obey us."
"Heh heh, yeah we know Lovina, that's why you and Feli are so important in this meeting," Alfred stated nervously. Despite Feli's euphoric personality, which is incongruous to her job, she is one of the most dangerous people. She shares the power of the Italian Mafia with her sister, "Anyway, presently the Russian mafia is becoming more active in other nations. They allied themselves with the Chinese, Turkish and Belarusian Mafia and control the Lithuanian, Estonian, and Latvian mafia. Ivan Braginski is the head of the Russian Mafia. He's nefarious for being inhumanly cruel. Ivan's a demon and has the mind of a twisted child. He demands that we also ally ourselves with them, otherwise we'd be punished and killed in the most torturous way. We have our proof of evidence right here, isn't that right, Ludwig?"
All of the attention Alfred had was directed to me again. His words poured ice cold water down my back as I felt conscious of the cuts and bruises with a burning sensation. I started to have flashes of our 'treatment' with the Russian mafia. A few weeks ago, my brother, Gilbert, and I received a letter stating an alliance with the Russian Mafia. Like Lovina and Feliciana, they split the Italian mafia into two regions, Northern and Southern Italy; we divided the German mafia into the Eastern and Western Germany.
When we both refused the offer, they ambushed us and gave us a very special treatment. We suffered their beatings weekly, each time something more horrifying than the last. As each day waved goodbye, we continue to suffer more, as we become destitute in their care. Gilbert's pale skin was covered in black and purple bruises, red lines spilled blood. Gilbert suffered from his albinism, and so he became a pariah, but it also worked as a way to torture him. They would put him in a sun-light spot, causing him to burn in the light. We became nothing but empty shells of ourselves as we continue to stay in a stupor.
Suddenly, I became conscious of the silence in the room, and return the stares of the other members. Not waiting for a response, Alfred continues, "As you can see, Ludwig refused their deal and was severely tortured along with his brother-" my mind snaps in realization, that Gilbert was also tortured. "- so we have an offer, that we join a coalition together and fight against the Russian mafia. If we all join forces, we could certainly defeat them-"
A phone suddenly rings, and everything becomes silent, including Alfred. Reaching toward his pocket, he checks his phone, with many others following his example, but when that proved to be fruitless, he looked amongst the crowd for the source of the sound. In the other corner of the room, opposite to where we were standing, a telephone shakes violently as it waits to be picked up.
Alfred stood up, and walked toward the phone cautiously and picked it up. Setting the tone to speaker, we were able to listen to their conversation.
"Hello, America, since you've paid a visit to my place, decorated it and took my guest, I consider negotiations off. However, I'll give you another chance if you give the phone to Germany," before Alfred could respond to the Russian, I take the phone from his hands and speak.
"What the hell do you want, Arshlotch?" I asked with venom.
"I'm just giving you a second chance to become one with me and Mother Russia, da? Well, if you don't we still have your precious older bruder here, so if you don't he suffers, da?" I could hear some struggling in the background, then silence. A few seconds later, we continued the negotiations, "If you join us, then we won't do anything bad to your bruder, agreed? But you can have 6 hours to decide, da?"
"Verdammt! West don't listen to this b*stard! I'm fine so don't-" the words of my brother were cut off with a painful slap and the man continued to speak. "As you can see he's doing well, don't you think? Remember, 6 hours to join us. Otherwise, like the hunter and prey, I will hunt you all down like deer. Even if we play cats and mice, we will eventually catch the mice. до свидания we'll see each other in Chicago then."
A click was heard, and the called ended. Alfred walked up and patted my shoulder as sympathy, whispering, "Don't worry dude, the hero will get your brother back. We've got plenty of time, plus I have a plan," facing the rest of the group, "Alright, here's the plan: the Italies gives up without a struggle. Spain will send us your tomatoes and create a Tomatina to draw their attention, from me. Britian'll go in suicidal! And as for me, I'll be the hero-" Arthur interrupts Alfred by smacking him.
"You bloody git! When are you going to stop with these frivolous jokes and be serious, you make us question your sobriety!" yelled the angry Brit.
"Ahah, sorry dude just wanted to lighten the mood. Anyway, I do have a plan," Alfred said, "But we all need to work together. Right now, its 12:34pm, we'll be in Chicago in a few hours. We'll check in the hotel and discuss our plans there. Right now, we're all tense about that call, so let's just relax till we reach Chicago."
With that, the meeting concluded to an end and most of the leaders leave the meeting room, except for Feliciana, Lovina, Antonio and I. Walking toward me, Feliciana held both my hands, and looked me in the eye, "Ludwig, it's alright. We'll save him no matter what happens," then extending her pinky she continues, "It's a pinky promise. If we break it we'll have to cut off our pinky. We'll protect each other from any harm and stay together forever, ok?"
Surprised, and obviously embarrassed, I stutter, "Y- you know we're too old for pinky promises," but despite myself, I extend my pinky and we entwine our pinkies together and seal the pact with our thumbs.
Giggling innocently, she replies, "It's a promise," and runs to meet her sister, who stared at me accusingly. Sighing, I exit the meeting room and walk around till I see an empty seat. I sit in it, debating on whom I should ally myself with, Ivan or Alfred. My mind started to drift and I became worried about Gilbert, will he actually be alright if I chose to be with Feliciana and the others? Somewhere along my thoughts, I lost consciousness and slept my worries away.
A faint bump was felt as we land into the Chicago airport, waking me up from my slumber. We quickly leave the airport and head into a hotel. I was still mindless of my surroundings as I continue my conflict with myself.
"Hey Ludwig, you still have some time to decide, we won't be in the lounge till 5, so rest in your room and come out when you're ready to choose," Alfred said, and then he left me alone.
As I entered my room, I kept thinking who I should join, but my thoughts opinions reached a stalemate so I decided the most productive thing I could do right now, was to clean myself up. As I enter the bathroom, one glance in the mirror sent me into a trip to the toilet, as I become light-headed and nauseas.
My cuts and bruises gotten worse, the bruises darkened and the cuts became swollen, red with infection and covered in thick yellow pus. In the places where I got burned, blisters full of liquid pus began to develop under my skin, threatening to explode and release the disgusting liquid. After a few minutes, I recovered, and stood up, careful to avoid the mirror, I relieved myself of the sticky and filthy clothing like a caterpillar emerging from a cocoon.
As the warm water rushed down my back, I felt a stinging sensation. Holding on my cross necklace, I pray in hopes that my bruder would be alive, that it wouldn't be too late to save him and that if it was possible to save him. After a few minutes of cleaning the filth off, I get outside and change. Looking at the clock, I confirm that its 4:43pm, indicating that I still have less than two hours left. Exhausted from all of the mental pressure, I lay on the bed in fatigue and doze off again.
Opening my eyes, I stayed into a stupor, unaware of what was happening. In sudden realization, I sit up and examine the time, 5:27pm, and run out to the lobby. A gunshot was heard and screams soon came after, making me stop right before I exposed myself to the awaiting crowd. Some struggling was heard before a family accent spoke.
"Hello America," piped a Russian accent, "It's been a while since we seen each other hasn't it?" The sound of something metallic was heard hitting something, and another hysterical whimper was followed. Hiding behind the wall, I slowly look to see a Russian man with silver white hair and violet eyes holding a water lead pipe, now stained crimson, chuckling to himself. On the floor, was a bloody America, straining himself to stand. Behind him, were the rest of the leaders of the mafia, tied up and gagged.
As I continue to watch, I felt the cool metal against the back of my neck. Slowly turning, I see Natalia, holding a knife. "Do what I tell you to do or I'll slit your throat. Give me your hands," as I obeyed her command, she tied my eyes with a thick rope and then pushed me into the lobby.
"Belarus! What are you doing here?"said the Russian man with a bit of fear and nervousness. With every step Belarus took, Russia walked back, in fear. It was amazing how a giant and strong man could be so fearful of a little girl.
"What's wrong bruder, don't you want to become one?" said the Belarusian with a terrifying face. The Russian man, still fearful, tried covering up his fear and spoke to his sister with much nervousness, "Eh heh, this isn't the time and place Belarus. We'll talk about it when we get home, right now; we have to negotiate with them ok?"
Impatient, Natalia walked toward a couch and sat, staring at the Russian man to hurry up with negotiations. Watching the Belarusian anxiously, Ivan began to continue his "negotiations", "Well now that you're here Germany, I'm going to ask you again, are you going to join us or decline our generous offer again? If you need help deciding then I'll help you decide."
A muffling sound could be heard as box was carried in front of us. Ivan bent down and opened the box, inside, was Gilbert chained up like an animal. His wounds were much worse than mine since he couldn't clean his infections. His already pale skin, became a sickly pale white with a tinge of green, and spotted with a colorful array of bruises. His cuts were bleeding with yellow pus; some even solidified and became a second layer of skin. His fingers were smashed and broken in different angles, his ankle swollen, and his shoulder dislocated.
Pulling Gilbert up by his short snow hair, I could see the full extent of damage done to his face, making me nauseas again. His eyes were swollen shut and were at least double its healthy size, his nose was broken in an angle, and infected cuts were all over his face. Across his neck, was his cross necklace, stained from all the blood and cracked. I knew that if Gilbert didn't receive immediate medical attention, he would surely suffer a painful and slow death.
"So are you convinced now?" Russia stated sadistically as I continued to stare at Gilbert, dumfound. Taking out a gun from his pocket, he points it at Gilbert and continues,"Join us, or he will continue to suffer and die by my hands. Not only him but everyone here who has allied themselves with America."
I had a choice, either to join Ivan and watch all Feliciana and the rest of my friends die a slow and painful death with no guarantee of or I could take a chance to keep it all and stay with Feliciana. Well whatever choice I choose, I'll have to live with it, with no regrets.