C H A N E L

I wiped my tears from my face and looked in my cleaned mirror. I needed to be tough for everyone. It was how I was raised. I also wanted ice cream. I wanted to drown my sorrows and never leave my room.

I dragged myself down the two flight of stairs. "Elanese?" I called out. Elanese was our maid, she worked around the house, cleaned, cooked, helped out with everything.

She never came to me when I called and that left me confused. I sighed and opened the huge freezer department. My pale brown eyes scanned through the cold fridge, but spotted no ice cream.

I slammed the freezer door with a grunt and placed my hands on my head. I was frustrated. Today was the worst day of my life.

I noticed a paper note on the marble counter, it wrote:

Dear Miss Chanel,

I left to pick up your brother from the airport, he had landed earlier than expected. Your parents have left for an important meeting. There is dinner in the fridge. Sorry, for the inconvenience.

Best Regards,

Elanese.

Great, no ice cream.

I threw out the letter and grabbed my Louis Vuitton handbag. I took off my Chanel jacket from the gold coat rack and slipped it on overtop of my white skintight dress then headed out the door. I always had to look my best, even at a store filled with food.

My Stuart Weitzman knee-high leather boots were rattling on the glassy ground as I made my way over to the resigned black limo. There was usually a chauffeur who would drive the limo. I take a pick in to the tinted windows. No one was in the car. There was no driver. My father must've fired everyone.

The grocery store was just a few blocks from here, I'm sure I could just walk there. I tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. I groaned and hit my fist on the window violently. I sighed and continued to walk out of the driveway.

I got to the gate which guarded my house from the rest of the population and opened it.

I placed my thumbprint on the black pad beside the large gate and the door slid open. I tried to sneak past the gatekeeper because I was sure he would run off and tell my parents that I was going out late on a school night, but I wanted ice cream. That's all I needed and then I'll be right back in the house, safe and sound.

That's what I hoped would happen.

The truth was that the grocery store was in the non richest part of New York where all the crime happened. I didn't know what could happen, I could potentially be in danger.

I tried to avoid all the dirty spots on the sidewalk, but ended up walking weirdly. So, I decided to stop before people start questioning.

The sidewalk went on forever, I thought it was close, I was wrong. I still had a long way to go before making it to the store. Why does everything have to be so far from the Upper East Side?

My feet were killing me, I didn't do this often. A gust of cool wind flew my hair behind my shoulders and chill bumps raised on my skin. I shivered from the cold.

I was almost at the grocery store. So, once I made it the evening sky was already going dark. The sun started to set. I was now alone in the dark. I never thought this through.

I walked into the store and headed towards the ice cream section. Mhm, which kind should I get? There were so many stacked in the much smaller freezer than the one at home.

I tried to open the door without getting germs on me. Who knows how many people touched this same freezer?

I took out Cookies 'N' Cream ice cream tub and let the door shut behind me. I looked at my hands in disgust. This is why I never go to grocery stores.

I headed towards the cash register and pay for the ice cream. I placed the item on the conveyor belt and waited impatiently for someone to help me.

Just when I was about to complain, a good looking boy, who looked about my age, approached behind the cash register. He worked here.

I fixed my dark brown hair, which I curled today over my shoulder and smiled, seductively at him. I wanted him. "Hi!" I flashed my clean teeth at him and took out my wallet.

Oh shit! My wallet.

I patted down my jacket pockets only for it not to be there. I forgot my wallet. I cursed myself.

"Oh no!" I freaked out, slightly. I really wanted that ice cream. "I forgot my wallet," I whined. I looked up at the fairly cute boy and back at my jacket.

His hair was a beach blonde shade and messy. His lips were grinning and he looked amused at me.

"Please, just let me go get my wallet," I told him. "I'll be back in . . ." I trailed off. How long did it take for me to get here?

"When do you close?" I asked. I figured it took me about thirty minutes to get here, double that.

He looked down at his Apple watch around his wrist. "Uh, twenty minutes," he answered.

I didn't have time.

"I walked here, I won't have enough time," I complained. "I really need this ice cream."

"Tough day?" He asked.

I looked up at him, my eyes glossy and tired. I nodded.

"Here!" He handed me the ice cream and I stared at him, incredibly.

"What?" I asked.

"It's on me," he said, "I'm sorry for your day, I hope tomorrow's will be better."

I doubt it. After what my father had done. I don't think any day will be better for me.

"No!" I exclaimed. A little too loudly since everyone turned to look at me. I lowered my voice. "I can't let you do that."

"It's okay, I'll help a pretty girl out," he complimented me.

I smiled. "Oh? So if I was ugly you wouldn't help me?" I asked, teasingly.

He froze. "What? No, that's not what I meant? I treat everyone equally," he freaked out.

I laughed. "I'm just playing," I told him.

"Oh," he sighed. He looked relieved.

"Thank you so much for the ice cream!" I held the ice cream in my grasp and walked out the store. "I really appreciate it."

He nodded his head, a faint blush on his cheeks. The doors automatically opened for me as I walked through. I looked down at the ice cream and saw a ripped piece of paper on top.

Call me,

917 555 ****

I sighed. I was so used to guys giving me their number. To be honest it was getting old.

I tossed away the piece of paper in the garbage bin and walk back up the sidewalk I got here from.

I was too focused on the ice cream that I didn't realize I took a wrong turn somewhere. Now, I was lost and didn't know where I was.

"Where is my money?" I heard a rough voice ask. My heart raced and my palms grew sweaty. This was why my parents never allowed me to walk downtown. Lost of sketchy things happened.

I was now in a alley way and noticed a guy held at gunpoint by a guy with tattoos and muscles. He scared me.

I tried to quiet down, but my shoes were making a loud noises on the ground from the heels.

"I told you, I don't have it," the other man said. He sounded scared, but yet again, he had a gun on his head.

"I've given you many chances to get my money," the tattoo man said. His voice was extremely calm and that scared me.

I never came back downtown ever since my father prohibited me from doing so from the last time.

Nothing bad happened to me since expect from when I got robbed in my house. I had to get stitches since the pushed me and I hit my head on a sharp part of an expensive wood table. At least I didn't break the table.

He was about to pull the trigger. I closed my eyes shut and tried to walk back from the alleyway. When he shot the bullet through his head, I jumped back and hit a garbage can. The ringing ran through my eardrums.

The garbage can rolled on the ground and beside was my ice cream. My ice cream was splattered all over the ground, he made me drop my ice cream.

The murderers head snapped up. He met my gaze. He looked awfully young to be a criminal, but criminals come in any shapes and sizes.

His green eyes darkened and pierced in mine. I hesitated, I shook with fear. I froze. Just like I did that night.

The man clutches the gun in his hand and approached me.

I stepped back from him. My heart clutching in fear. My heels got caught in the sidewalk crack and I fell back, my whole backside fell to the ground.

I winced, yelling in pain, everything hurt. Now, I gave him an advantage to kill me.

"Please, don't hurt me," I cried. I felt tears in my eyes, I didn't want to cry in front of this stranger. He was attractive. His black hair fell in front of his head and his eyes head murder . . . literally.

"I won't tell anyone," I negotiated. He continued to come towards me. I panicked and tried to get up, but he crouched down, pulling me back down. "I promise."

He roughly lifted me off the ground and I swear I could hear my bones crack that was how hard his grip was.

"Hey, let go of me!" I protested, yelling. "I didn't allow you to let a hand on me, what makes you think you can do so?"

"Help!" I shouted, maybe if I made lots of noise someone would see and call the police. "Help me, somebody! Rape!"

The murderer covered his dirty hand over my mouth and muffled my screams for help. "Shut up," he growled.

I squeezed my eyes shut, tears rolled down my face and I wished he would let me go.

He grabbed my arm, harshly and I winced in pain. His hand was still over my mouth as he dragged me down the scary alleyway. What would he do to me? Kill me? Rape me? Rape me, then kill me?

I shivered in disgust and fear. I couldn't understand how people can do that to someone.

Once we made it to the end of the alleyway. I struggled against him. I wasn't going to get raped this time. I would fight.

He pushed me against the wall and I screamed in pain. He released his hand from over my mouth and put his knee on my leg to stop me from moving. I tensed.

"No," I cried. "Don't."

"You will keep quiet unless you want the next bullet to be in between that pretty little head of yours," he hissed. I flinched at his threat. He had an Italian accent, which made me weak in the knees.

"Are you threatening me?" I asked, furious. What the hell?

"My moms crazy enough to name me after a luxury company . . . I'm pretty sure I can handle a crazy criminal," I scoffed at him.

This guys got some nerves. He grabbed me and dragged me towards his car. There was no way I would allow him to kidnap me.

"Who do you think you are? You can't just kidnap me! Do you know who I am? Do you know who my father is?" I shouted at him. Thrashing in his strong grip, tears staining my cheeks.

He was attractive, but that was the least of my worries. He made me drop my ice cream. I knew I should've just stayed at home and forgot about my annual Sunday Sundae.

I was stuck in a difficult situation with a man who just killed someone, a human being. He could kill me without hesitation.

I was also stuck in a trunk . . . of a Maserati car . . . with a psychotic gang leader from Italy.