DEAD WOMAN WALKING (THE BLOOD IN MY VEINS #1)

THE OFFICE

fourteen. | THE OFFICE

FOR THE FIRST TIME IN DAYS, Mia finally enjoyed a full night's sleep. There was no screams to wake her up, or ghost footsteps, or brooding men to make her feel like the world was against her. The pillows felt like actual heaven. Although she hated it with a passion, the mafia did have its perks. Mia sunk deeper into the pillows when all of a sudden, her windows were suddenly yanked open. The sun's light flooded into the room, making the ex officer flee underneath the thick covers.

"Rise and shine!" She heard the familiar voice of the servant girl she had met yesterday. The young woman groaned. "Five more minutes." She grumbled, only to have the covers violently pulled off her body. Cool air suddenly rushed to her body, kissing her bare legs and arms. Mia yelped and curled into a ball.

"No can do, Mia." She cracked open her eyes to see the grinning face of Haiti. The female looked proud, holding her covers in her skinny hands like a trophy. "I have gotten specific orders to wake you up. You need to hurry up and get ready. You only have thirty minutes and the boss doesn't like to be kept waiting." The woman chirped, reminding Mia of the situation she was in. Mia let out a deep sigh before forcing her body up. She hade regained somewhat of her strength back, thank God. She scratched the back of her head, frowning when her fingers got stuck in the jungle that was her hair.

Haiti began folding the covers. "I left you breakfast, it's on your bedside table." Mia blinked a couple more times before turning to the said table and finding said breakfast. On the black tray was three fluffy pancakes, made to perfection. Four pieces of bacon and eggs was present on the left side of the pancakes while a cup of apple juice sat on the right. A cup of syrup sat right beside the plate with another cup of fruit. Why was she eating better in a damn mafia house than she had her entire adult life?

"I'll be back with spare clothes. The ones you have on right now are dirty and you actually look homeless." The woman said with a slight giggle. "Gee, thanks." Mia joked, picking up her fork. She didn't take offense to the statement. She was sure she did look like a crazy homeless woman. Mia began to eat while Haiti laid the folded blanket on her bed.

"You don't have to make my bed for me," Mia said, swallowing her food. "I've got it." Haiti looked surprised for a second before smiling. "If you insist."

She turned to leave before stopping a few feet from the door. She grabbed her apron nervously before turning around, facing Mia again.

"Is it true?"

"Is what true?" Mia questioned.

"I heard than on the day they, um, took you, you fought the Don?"

Mia dropped her glass of apple juice before looking at the woman in her doorway. Shit. Did everyone around here knew of how she got her ass handed to her? Talk about embarrassing. Mia felt her face flush. "Oh. Y-yeah," She said awkwardly. "It was over in like, five minutes. He beat my ass." Haiti blinked.

"You jumped on him and even punched him. I know grown men who couldn't land a hit on him for their whole lives, not to mention five minutes." She looked at the ex officer in confusion. "How are you still alive?"

Mia sighed and grabbed her cup of apple juice, wishing there was some alcohol in it. "Honestly, I don't even know my damn self." Now that she thought about it, she punched the don. A man that had killed hundreds. She had managed to get him on his back and actually land a hit! Granted, he beat her ass, drugged, starved, and left her in a basement. Haiti shook her head.

"Whatever the reason is, you should take a shower. I'll be back shortly."

Mia nodded nodded before making her way to the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror and frowned. Jesus Christ. She was correct, her hair was a jungle on her head. Her hair stuck in every which direction, making her look like she was struck by lightning. The woman who stared back at her was clearly exhausted. Her eyes reflected uncertainty and fatigue. Her once supple lips were dry and cracked. The skin on her face had leftover dried blood from when the don murdered a man with a chainsaw in the room right next to her. She shuddered. Her clothes were faded and torn in some places. Tearing her gaze away from the mirror she shedded her clothes, stepping into the expensive looking shower. The shower itself was made of glass, with not a single scratch in sight.