What's in Venice?

Cat’s eyes couldn’t stop looking at her boots. Tattered and filthy with scratches and scuffs of mud, they were bound to leave a trail that led to her getaway route at the train station. With all the mental energy she had left, she hoped that the trail would just blend in with the rest of the civilian life behind her, masking the scent of her escape both quickly and efficiently enough just for her to get far, far away. She couldn’t stop wondering if she was still being pursued. She began to consider the fact that cameras everywhere would be her final enemy, leading whoever she was running away from right to her without a struggle.

She would be spotted soon... 

Attempting to calm herself, she kicked her feet under the train seat and raised her eyes from the floor. Immediately, she caught the eyes of a child. Someone’s son. He couldn’t have been over six years old. With khaki shorts and a white collared shirt on, he sat beside his mother who paid no attention to him. With one hand she held one of his little hands and with her other she gripped a book in which her face was fixated on. The title was too small to read from across the train but the binding was thin. A short story maybe? Or one of those self-improvement guides. The book couldn't have been over a hundred pages--a quick read here and there and finished in a week.

While lost in her curious thoughts, she realized that the little boy was still staring at her. It took a second, but she knew why his eyes lingered on her face. Her left hand slowly went up and touched her eyebrow. There. She felt it still. A cicatrix holding the terrible memory of what felt like the previous night.

She winced at the contact of her own finger and pulled the black hood further over her head, lowering her eyes once again. Instantly, she noticed a couple tears in her black pants. The number of lacerated slits made her anxious again. She fiddled with one of the tears with her thumb and tried her best not to remember the activities that had led to the violent ripping of the fabric.

With each flash of memory Cat closed her eyes harder. She clenched her jaw tighter. She balled her fists up. Her chest was pounding and her throat dry. She wasn’t breathing. She let out a loud gasp she didn’t know she was holding.

She peeked out of her hoodie and saw a couple eyes peering in her direction in confusion. The boy’s mother had looked up from her book with a slight frown on her face–irritated at the inconvenience of being distracted from her reading. She let go of her son’s hand and put her arm around his waist pulling him closer to her. Her hand then went to his head and softly guided him down to lay in her lap. The boy swung his little legs on top of the seat and laid down as his mother immediately went back to her reading.

Cat hung her head low once again. Partially because she didn’t want to be seen but mainly because she was tired.

Her eyes opened and she looked up to see that the little boy was gone. His mom and her short book weren’t anywhere to be seen.

Cat froze and realized that she wasn’t on the train anymore. Her cold lips and breeze-filled air confirmed she wasn’t dreaming. Everything in front of her was dark while below her, there seemed to be a bright illumination that she was almost scared to look down at.

Where she was sitting, her back was propped up against something. When she turned, she saw that she had been leaning on the leg of a statue. The statue was exceptionally tall. And although it was tall, the building behind it stood at an even more dramatic height. The base of the building was partially lit, but the top of the building was so high it blended in with the darkness.

“That’s Oceanus.” A loud voice echoed slightly.

Her head turned swiftly, scanning the area but seeing no one.

“Standing arrogantly on his seahorse-led chariot, the view is astounding. Don’t you think?” The invisible voice continued.

She wondered if it was a recording, one that played for the entertainment of tourists that came to see whatever the statue behind her was. She blinked hard four or five times before her eyes were awake enough to dart around at her surroundings. She turned her head again, taking in the view of the statue. Once again, her eyes wandered to the height of the structure behind it.

“I see you’re exceptionally captivated by the grand scale of the fountain. Eighty-five feet. That’s how high it is.”

She froze. The voice was live. Someone was watching her!

She could feel her cheeks red hot with anxiety as her head continued to swivel, searching for whoever had her attention. The voice hadn’t stopped spewing out information about the fountain, but the light echo made it hard to tell where it was coming from.

“–the two seahorses are quite opposites. While one is tamed and docile, the other ravishes roughly and wild...just like the personalities of the oceans.”

It then clicked in her mind. 

Trevi Fountain. This is where she had meant to go.

But she didn’t go there on her own. Someone who knew her anticipation finished the journey for her. Was it the man talking to her through the speaker system? How long had he been watching her?

She considered the fact that this could actually be all in her head. The voice, the personified seahorses, the structure that scratched the heavens. Because why in the world would she actually be in the fountain?

“According to myth, a coin that is thrown into this fountain is bound to return to Rome. The myth even goes to the extent that throwing a second coin would bring true love.” The man babbled continuously. “Sadly, you only have one coin for right now.”

She halted.

For some seconds everything went silent. She felt something in her hand. Perplexed, she sat there distracted by her thoughts. In her mind was nothing but anxiety. Inhaling deeply, she decided to count to three.

One.

Two.

Three.

She opened her hand palm up and stared.

Silver, round and flat. Jagged edged. The inscription REPVBBLICA ITALIANA. She could do nothing but gasp.

She doubted the coin had been in her hand previously but she was too shocked to be sure. Her fingers wrapped around the coin as she clenched her hand into a fist. She opened her fist and was shocked when the coin was still there. She closed and opened her palm one last time. The coin remained face up in the crevice of her thin and dirty palm.

“You’re not supposed to be on that statue, young lady.” A lady’s voice said loud enough to cross the water and reach her ears.

She looked up and finally saw people; a lady and a tall man. The lady was beautiful and the man handsome; they wore the formal attire of a dress and a suit, respectively. They stood straight with exemplary posture and matching suspicious faces.

Leaning a little bit forward and squinting, she was able to make out their faces. For a second she completely disregarded the lady. Her eyes met the man’s. Something about him was emphatically familiar and the gash in his right cheek only intensified his look. Her mind associated his face with animosity. But also disquietude and she feared him and whatever he was capable of. His stare stopped her breath and his grin sped up her heartbeat.

She caught her attention back and returned her gaze at the lady.

“Young lady, please come down.”

She didn’t move. Too many thoughts formed too many questions in her mind. How did she get to her location? Whose coin was she holding and when did it get into her hand? Why did she just realize that the big voice had stopped talking? Who were these two people?

The lady looked at the guy and said something too quiet to be heard by anyone who wasn’t supposed to hear. He nodded and took off the jacket of his suit. He carelessly dropped it to the floor and made his way closer to the fountain.

Without a thought, he entered the water and was moving quickly. He waddled but made progress at a terrifying speed.

Cat looked around for a place to run to but couldn’t see a clear exit out of the situation.

There was no way to go but she had to get up. She wouldn’t sit down and let herself see what would happen if she was caught. Bracing herself with her hands, she pulled the lower half of her body up and stood beside the statue. She tried to be careful but slipped. Reaching out quickly, she was able to grab onto one of Oceanus’ legs and hold on.

She heard a plop! in the water. Still grasping onto the calf, she peered over the ledge into the water.

A small sliver of shimmering gold seemed to shrink smaller and smaller as it descended to the bottom.

The coin!

Then she heard her name.

“Catalaya! Catalaya, wake up!”

The pitch black sky frightened her and she closed her eyes shut, trying her hardest to bite her lip and hold back her tears of fear and confusion.

“Wake up! Catalaya!”

No, she didn’t want to.

“Please, you need to wake up!”

The terror had taken over and she shut her eyes even tighter, horrified at the ominous voice looming over her.

She shook her head, wanting to wake up from this nightmare. The tears had begun streaming down, and her mouth was crying out but making no sound. She didn’t want to move, she didn’t want to open her eyes. The monstrous man would be getting too close to her now for her to make any move.

She wanted to give up.

“Catalaya, wake up!”

She realized this time, she recognized the voice.

Her eyes opened and saw her father’s face. It was filled with worry, which concerned her because she had never seen him look so scared.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the bed. Out the room, through the living room, through the kitchen and out the sliding doors, they barged through the backyard.

Catalaya still could not tell what was going on. And before she could get any sign, the two of them were blindsided and hit the floor. Her father rolled a bit further than she did, separating the two of them by too many feet.

Catalaya sat up on the grass. Her new black jeans were dirty and covered in grass stains.

She heard grumbling and looked up  to see her father wrestling a man. And as soon as she stood up, another man appeared and grabbed her. Instinct from her self-defense training caused her to kick, scream and scratch while the man tried to maintain his grip on her. A hard and final kick in between his legs sent him stumbling back.

She tried to run to her father but was grabbed and turned. For a split second she stared at the man. There was a scar on the right side of his face, on his cheek. Before she knew it, his hand went up and came down fast sending a hard backhand to her cheek.

Her father tackled the man and sent one hard punch before dashing back to his daughter. He picked her up and continued running. They got to the driveway and he opened the back door of the Jeep. He placed her down and the door closed behind her with daddy on the other side.

“Daddy?” She whispered.

The car engine started.

The person in the driver’s seat was her family’s driver.

“Miss Catalaya, your father will be fine.” He assured her without a drop of conviction in his voice. “He left you everything you need for right now.”

Looking on the seat beside her she saw a plane ticket, a train ticket, and a coin. She picked up the items and stared at them. The plane ticket was a departure from her city’s airport to Italy. The train ticket was to Venice. The coin had something written in a foreign language. The three items were all strange to her but she held on to them so tight that she began to smother the two tickets into a wrinkle.

She couldn’t stop thinking of her father. She had left him back at the house with the two random, violent men. He had to fight them off by himself.

She hoped and prayed that he could.

With a deep sigh and a tear on her cheek, she looked at the tickets again with questions.

The biggest one being what was in Venice?