The Bull of New York

It was a starry night in New York City and Janice Dunken was waiting on the subway for a train to take her home. After a long day in the office, the idea of going home to a nice warm bed and burying herself underneath the covers was a dream that could not come soon enough.

The iconic city bustle and the smell of urgency in the New York atmosphere had intoxicated her lungs enough for the day. Since embarking on her quest to find romance, success, and prosperity in the concrete jungle had reached the inevitable stage called: the grind.

Four am starts, competing through traffic, impressing executives whilst satisfying social expectations were all part of her weekly experience. On weekends, she worked two extra jobs, at a cafe in the morning serving up brunches and lattes to the elite portion of the city. Friday and Saturday nights she worked at a bar, serving cocktails and spirits.

Mid-week, she found herself getting on board a train at 9 pm at night. Her boss had made her stay back to finish the monthly reports. Now, exhausted and completely devoid of energy, her only interest was accumulating enough hours of sleep before the next four-am start.

Janice arrived home to her tiny, little shoe-box apartment, opened up her blue-painted front door, and entered to find a silent, cold room. Everything seemed ordinary, except for a cold chill running down Janice’s back. She walked through her apartment slowly, inspecting the room. As she stretched out her hand to reach the light, she felt someone’s hand intersect hers and then cover her gaping mouth with the other free hand.

She felt herself being dragged backward, unable to see her captor but feeling his arms tie her up from behind and attaching her to a chair.

“Who are you?” she yelled.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he replied in what sounded like a Spanish accent.

“Then why am I here?” she shouted. “I have nothing you could possibly want.”

“I know. I don’t want anything from you,” he replied.

The captor stood in front of her wearing a black t-shirt with a picture of a bull’s head on it. Janice quivered in her chair, with her arms wrapped behind her. Her eyes welling with tears and her hair becoming a mess.

“It’s not you that I want things from, it’s your ex-boyfriend, “ he replied in his exotic accent.

Taking a good look at his face, Janice examined his chiseled jawline and high cheekbones. He was tall and fit with dark hair. He was an attractive-looking man. It seemed like he was going to use this to get what he wanted.

“And, what exactly do you want from him? Why are you coming to me?” she pressed.

“Your ex-boyfriend, Jason, and I used to be blood brothers. We called ourselves the Torros. We grew up together. Then, he went ahead, built his business, and left me behind,” he explained to Janice.

Janice took a moment to process what she had heard before she responded: “So, are you after money?”

“Yes. You see we were meant to be in business together. I know for a fact that he would not be the million-dollar man that he is today without my help.”

“Well, Jason never mentioned you. I don’t know who you are,” piped Janice.

The man started cackling. “Why am I not surprised?” he answered.

“So, do you mind telling me who you are? Maybe there’s another way we can do this,” rationalized Janice.

“There is no other way. And, I can’t tell you who I am yet. Just call me T,” he replied.

"Well, how do you know about me?" asked Janice.

"I've been keeping tabs on my rich little blood brother, don't you worry. He's not going to get away with what he has done," T explained.

"Are you going to hurt him?" she inquisitioned.

"Not if he is complicit," replied T.

"Complicit, how? What are you going to ask of him?" Janice was beginning to get worked up.

"Please, T, don't hurt him. I'm sure there's an explanation. Just, don't hurt J, please," Janice begged.

"You will understand, eventually. Right now, I need you to be quiet, while I continue with my plan," said T. He took a roll of black tape that was in his bag, ripped off a piece, and as he was placing it on Janice's mouth said: "You see, I've just spent eight years behind bars for a crime we both committed, and now he's going to get his eight years of pain."

Janice whimpered in her chair, tears streaming down her eyes, the whites of her eyes turning red and becoming increasingly restless.

Why was this happening to her?

T stood up and went over to the corner where had a suitcase. Out of the front pocket, he took out a bag of dog treats and took a key from on top of the cabinet. He went into the bathroom, unlocked the door, and called "Roja, come!"

Out of the bathroom on a lead came a black dog. He walked into the living area where Janice was tied to the chair and he sat in front of her. T gave Roja a treat and whispered in his ear. He then turned to Janice.

"Don't even think of going anywhere. He's trained to attack escaping prisoners," warned T. "I'll be back soon."

He then left through the front entrance and turned off the light. Janice, frightened and helpless sat still in her chair, bracing for what was to come next.

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