No one is allowed to judge me for whatever happens in this chapter, okay?
You may yell at me (cuz honestly it's entertaining), but no judging.
Also, if you know me in real life...no you don't.
Ayla/Dove's POV
Age: 10
Location: Parking Lot of IMS (Italian Mafia School), New York
TW: torture
I groan tiredly as I climb into Dante's car. Dylan echoes my exhaustion from the seat next to mine.
Too sleepy to fight the stupid car seat, I let him buckle me in.
Goosebumps dot my skin as the doors of the car close, shutting out the cold winter wind and replacing it with toasty warm air.
Dante turns on the engine and carefully pulls out of his parking spot.
The roads are slippery and icy because of the recent snowfalls. Mama is always telling him and Dad to be careful on the roads.
I wince every time we drive over a speed bump or make sudden stops. Every movement of the car seems to exacerbate the pain from my bruises.
"Training was that bad?" Daniel asks when he catches me wincing over a particularly bad speed bump.
Too tired to verbally respond, I simply nod.
After going almost two months without training, my recent training session with Donna and the others was brutal. Both my body and pride are now bruised.
Despite the other distractions throughout the day, like accidentally triggering the fire alarm during Chemistry, I can't seem to shake the eerie chill that has been following me.
Even after I told Donna about my dream, and after she acknowledged it, something still feels wrong. Almost like I need to do something, but I don't know what.
What if the feeling I can't shake is my gut? Ella always says to listen to your intuition. Is this what my intuition feels like?
If it is, what is it trying to tell me?
By the time we get home a million questions has gone through my brain and swirled around.
"I'm going to take a nap before dinner," I announce before running up the stairs to the solitude of my bedroom.
I drop my backpack on the floor and collapse onto my bed, wincing as every bone in my body seems to rattle.
My muscles are screaming angrily at me, probably demanding to know why I'm using them so suddenly.
I don't know either muscles.
I pull the blankets over me and snuggle into the warmth of my bed.
My eyes get heavy quickly and let myself fall asleep, resting my tired body and mind.
Ayla/Dove's POV
Age: 5
Location: Base
TW until end of dream
I pout at Ella as she tries to convince me to listen to the guards.
Again, it's two newbies. Unlike the other guards that have been here a while, they have more patience for me.
YOU ARE READING
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 ✍︎
General Fiction[ONGOING] [NOT EDITED] 𝑭𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍, 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓. Dove was raised in an Assassination Program. Kidnapped at only six months old from her loving family. She's only known a life of abuse and imprisonment. Little doe...
