Daughter of the Damned

Mira's POV -

" Mira, do it properly. I should be able to see my face in each of them. They should be shining. "

I rolled my eyes . She should have all her mirrors replaced with these pots. She was obsessed with her utensils. She was the latest inclusion in my woe list.

This was my fifth day, working in that corner motel.

The pay wasn't that good but I wanted to work because only that way would I be able to be somewhere till my school got over.

I couldn't kill my mother by telling her that I had made up my mind to not go to that school anymore. Not after the humiliation that Braze made me suffer.

I had no idea how I would react if I saw him again. Would I break down crying again or would I kick his balls?

I had to make up very spicy excuses to satiate my mother. Luckily, she was out of town when I was knocked out in that handsome boy's house.

The offer was very tempting but somehow, I managed to trigger my stupid morality and ended up not taking the money.

Let me correct myself. I was just being stupid, there was no morality involved. That was compensation money, you idiot Mira. That lad wanted to cover his crime up.

But my main regret was not rejecting the money, it was, not even knowing his name.

I kept looking at the clock, waiting for my shift to get over and finally when it did, I ran straight inside the restroom, to change back into my school uniform.

I did that everyday, for five days straight.

I left home with my school bag , dress and shoe on. And I came back home the same way. What I did in between, I was successfully able to hide for the time being.

But being successful consecutively was suspicious for someone as unlucky as me.

The thunder clouds clapped right above me as soon as I tried getting out of the place.

I had seen people cowering here and there when they saw a lighting or heard a loud clap. For me, however, it was like a romantic ballet.

I loved the scent of the rain and the electric charge in the air when it thundered.

It felt like they talked to me , on a personal level. It felt like they knew me very well, to the level of my goosebumps.

So I just spared a glance at the sky and darted out, soaking once more.

There was another thing. It always rained when I cried or maybe, I cried when it rained.

I was walking straight up ahead, my bag tucked between my hands, pressed tightly over my chest.

I was walking straight ahead when I heard loud honking.

At first I didn't pay much attention.

But then they came closer. Their bikes splashed muddy water all over my dress. As I looked at them from the corner of my eyes, I realized the mess that I was in.

It was a gang.

I could see the one-eyed symbol on all their jackets. They reeked of alcohol and their laughs were sending a shiver down my spine.

The gangs were basically individual groups that belonged to the underworld. But unlike the mafia system, they had no principles or morals. They were so savage that even the police kept themselves aloof.

They usually didn't bother the local population. They raced, they drank, they kept themselves high on weed most of the time.

However, they sometimes went hunting.

It was like a game to them.

They did it when they were bored.

Nobody wanted to be hunted by them. We had all heard stories about the bodies that were retrieved , after they were done.

I tried keeping my head low and kept walking straight up ahead as if I didn't even know that I was being watched.

My legs were unsteady but I kept pushing.

I, even, broke into a full run. That might have been a mistake.

One of the engines roared as the bike came right in front of me, blocking my walk.

I fell a couple of steps back, but I bumped right into some of them.

I was surrounded.

This time, I looked up. I looked around.

There were half a dozen of them. The road was completely empty. There was no hope for help.

I was like a timid, helpless calf, surrounded by wild wolves, who were drooling with lust, their fangs bared, ready to attack.