One Life To Live

Two men were holding me in place, but I pushed with all my might to break their grasp. My biceps tensed and I heaved mercilessly against them again and again. I wheezed in effort, and I could feel the cuts on my arms re-opening; liquid oozing over my dark skin. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her, and neither could she. Her eye pierced as she stared at me and I could just guess what she was thinking. Though, all I could do was stare right back, remorse filling my features. She had to know I was sorry – sorrier than I ever felt in all my life. I just wanted to kick everyone’s ass that even laid a finger on her, throw her over my shoulder and get her the fuck outta here.

Ed paced lazily over to her, an evil smirk on his face. He leaned in, brushing his fingers over the sensitive skin on her cheek. Her whole figure cringed, her tormented eyes closing momentarily. That was it for me. “NO!” I growled, heaving my weight forward ready to take his head off. Paul proceeded for me. He came in hot pursuit toward Ed, raising his gun. His voice was a deadly calm. “Eh, now. We don’t touch your women, do we, you sick bastard?”

He sneered at Paul, and waved his gun away, even though Conti and Romano were coiled and ready to spring. Ed peered over at me, and purred; “Now I see why you’re so obsessed with her, Lance. She is just a doll.” He stroked her cheek once more, lingering at her chin. My body could only tremble; all energy was gone from my muscles. I watched with wild eyes. He continued, “So soft, so delicate.” His gaze was still on hers, but I saw a twitch of anger in his eyes. He laughed, his voice sounding like sand paper, “Women. Such persuasive little things, don’t you think? If you were smart, Lance, you would’ve gotten rid of her when I had Marino come after her.”

“You fucking—” I seethed through my teeth.

“Yes, yes, oh I know.” He smiled, processing a thought in his mind. “Even Greg Luca came about perfectly to help my cause.”

Paul now stared at Ed. “Greg—”

Ed shook his head. “No. No, Greg would never have the guts to go against you Capra’s. He just got so caught up by her,” he toyed with a lock of Melanie’s hair, “that he too was devastated when poor Melanie gave him the news tonight. Quite the heartbreaker.” He grinned at Mel, and she gave him a disgusted look. “Anyway,” he said conversationally, “now that I’ve finally got you Capra’s where you need to be—”

There was a rustling of men, and before I knew it, Tony Macharelli and Vinny were coming toward the circle, guns raised. You knew things were getting serious when they showed up. Instantly, Conti and Romano spun around and raised their guns as well. We were at a standoff – 50/50. Tony Macharelli spoke first, in his grisly voice, “I’d release the girl if I were you, Rossi.”

“But why? We were just about to have so much fun.” He said, still amused.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “I’m warnin’ you. We got more guys coming – you’ll all be outmatched.”

“And what if we have back-up, too? Did you ever think of that?” Ed reproached, crossing his arms.

Tony clicked a bullet into his chamber and pointed it straight at Ed. He stared at him until Ed finally broke away, signaling to the man who had Melanie trapped in his arms. “You know what to do, DeVitto.”

The man slipped a knife out of his pocket agilely and placed it under Mel’s throat. I went into a scary trance as I watched him cut into the soft, supple skin of her throat – blood leaking down to her collarbone.

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I winced, my hands trembling as I inched as far away from the sharp blade as I could. A burning sting followed after, and I felt a tear escape my eye. Hot, wet liquid spilled down my neck and blossomed into a bigger stain as it touched my shirt. I breathed deeply, willing the pain to go away.

“STOP! STOP!” Lance screamed, shattering the zombie-like composure he exhibited a second before. His voice tormented, wild. Watching his beaten and battered form did more to hurt me than the cut had even tried to. Of course it stung like mad, but I had never seen Lance so at odds before. His body was taxed physically – I knew he was waging a war within himself.

Ed Rossi, the awful man Lance and Paul were talking to, looked back at the man – DeVitto – who had instituted the cut, and nodded his head once, his palm raised. DeVitto, whose arms were still around my waist, twisted his form so that the knife lay tight against my ribs. Any movement and I knew it would pierce through my shirt.

“See boys?” Ed said, his voice nasally. “That’s what happens when you try to mess up my plans. I was just about to explain how…”

I zoned out for a moment. I must’ve been losing more blood than I thought I was. My head dropped down so that I could glimpse at my shirt. Bad idea. My cut stung worse than before, and I was sure any amount of clotting that had taken place was now gone, but my curiosity overwhelmed me. My shirt was stained with blood – all the way down to the bottom of my bust line. I gulped, gritting my teeth. It was a good thing I wasn’t afraid of blood.

It was also a good thing that I was a doctor-in-training.

Before I knew it, I was flooding my brain with what I learned of pressure points, biggest weak spots of the body, and what Ziggy had taught me in my boxing lessons. Who knew they would eventually come to good use? With the angular structure of DeVitto’s body, and the holes in his entrapments, I could very well go for the peroneal nerve, as well as a good jab into his stomach.

I strategically planned all it out in my mind – his reactions to my hits, where the knife would land once his hold would loosen, where best to place the knife, everything. There was no way with the equal standoffs that Paul or even Vinny were going to get the upper hand. I had to do something.

I drooped my head, feigning loss of blood (which wasn’t hard at all since it was more than true), and leaned my shoulders back against DeVitto, so that he’d have to shift his body in order to keep me in his grasp. Just as I had guessed, DeVitto cussed, and loosened his hold to keep me upright. As he did so, I slammed my elbow back in the soft area of his abdomen, and he let out a rough, Ooof! I now had attracted some attention from the group as I could feel their gazes turning toward me. I knew I had to be quick. The knife dropped next to my left foot, and I swooped down and curled it tightly into my hand.

I punched my fist into DeVitto’s thigh for extra insurance, watching as the pressure-point-hit made his leg spasm and his frame lurched forward simultaneously. I pulled him back, however, and pressed the razor-sharp blade against his carotid artery in his neck.

There was stillness among the crowd, and I could feel their heated stares. I could hear a pin drop. With mouths agape, they looked at me. Trying the most throaty and deadly voice I could manage, I spoke, “I would drop your weapons, if I were you. I know where the carotid artery is. He would be dead in one slice.”

I couldn’t afford to look at Lance. My resolve would be shattered. Instead, I stared right into Ed Rossi’s beady eyes – my mouth forming a grim line. He laughed, breaking the silence. “You don’t have the guts, little Melanie.”

I twitched my head to the right, eyeing him as steadily as I could manage. “Really?” I pressed the blade hard enough to pierce skin on DeVitto’s neck, and he yelled. Ed blanched, and his hands tightened into fists. I then faintly heard the battle cry of Paul, and the harsh bang of gunshot that ensued. I saw a swirl of burly men collapsing on each other, and my grasp on the knife went lack.

My body fell back, and the last thing I saw was white.