MIRABELLE'SPOV
Now I think I can breathe. I've finally called Damien, and I'm so happy that he agreed. I'm sure that even if I leave Skylar at his place to look for a job, she would be taken absolute care of. Now I just need to wait for Jacobs' arrival, and I'll be out of this hellhole. Maybe I could just take a nice nap—or maybe not.....
'Mira honey...' Urgh! Why can't I just have a peaceful time to myself? I had just finished checking and rechecking the room for any items I might be leaving behind. I found some, my BFF of the year photobook, which contains yearly pics of me and my best friends at places we've been to. I sigh, remembering the vengeance I vested upon one of my bff's, Mark.
He had given me hopes and crashed them. Hopes that he could be something more than a crush on me, that I could have been something more than just a bestie. HA!
But don't worry, I dealt with the bitch and Mark. If I wasn't in a bad mood right now, I would be laughing my ass off. Soooo, I let the thought slide and continued my hunt. Under the bed, I found Mia, Skylar's favorite doll — speaking of Skylar... I raise my head from staring at the doll, my eyes meeting Sky's. She is being quiet today, unlike other days, when she'll be blabbering about chocolate, Mia, Donald and anything she feels like talking about. 'Skylar dear, what's wrong?' Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, even at that, she looks so cute instead of surprised. 'Uh... nothing? Mumma is busy, so I don't want to disturb her, ... Is that Mia?' At the sight of Mia she stretches her tiny hands for it and I hand it to her. She takes it from me and cradles it in her lap, stroking its hair as I normally do to her.
My lovely daughter.
I also found a very important possession of mine; a box. Not just a box, a box full of pocket-sized ammunition. Ammunitions an assassin would have as a possession, and a graduating award stating that, ; Miss Mirabelle Sophiya Ventpak Is Now Graduating From Years Studying At REGEL MATARIAL ARTS School Of Elites, As A Now Trained And Trustworthy Assassin. Bla Bla Bla.
Oops, looks like I forgot to introduce myself. Soooo,.... uhm okay, hello pople, I'm Mira Sophiya Ventpak, half American, half Russian. My dad is an American, my mum..... Russian. I know you already guessed that. Heading forward, you must be wondering why my last name is Russian instead of American, right? Yeah, sooo, my grandpa was a Bratva king and his children were princes and princesses, so my mum was a princess and they were stinking rich.
Meanwhile, my dad's family were from the low income brackets (that's what I normally call the poor). Calling them poor doesn't just sit well with me. My mum met my dad at a carnival in LA, when she was traveling around the world at that time. Travelling is her hobby. So their love started blooming after some time, ....bla bla bla.
Their love life is not my story to tell. Soooo, my mum's parents found out about their daughter's lover and decided that he was not good enough for her. They needed someone from their class and my dad was not. My dad's parents supported their relationship but were afraid that their son would be let down because of his background, so they would agree whenever the topic came about and also advise Lucas, my dad, to be careful and that if he smells anything fishy around Regina, my mum, he should tuck his tail between his thighs and run before he finds himself in eternal misery.
But things later worked out because they got married and had my dickhead brother, me and Yelena. My grandpa gave them a condition to reconsider before getting married. And it was for us, his grandkids, to bear his name as our last name instead of our dad's own. They agreed to it even as other people were against it, saying my dad was allowing my mum's family to ride him. Everything went as planned, and they could see their happiness ever after rising.... Until my dad died in an open fire.
He was shot in the belly, maybe just maybe if parademics had attended to him sooner rather than later he could have survived it. He was innocent for Christmas' sake, and being the good Samaritan he was, he had alighted his car to help a pregnant woman to hers and was shot on his way back.
We got the details from the woman dad had saved. Mum had gone savage saying dad had died saving his mistress. Yeah, I know, right? But she got better over the years.
Now back to how I became the assassin I had trained to become.
It happened when I was fifteen. People said I wasn't normal, who cared a lot of people did, but I didn't. Not even my friends cared. There was a time I had a flimsy crush on one of my friends. Mark. He was every girl's wet fantasy. He had inky black hair with purple tinted around the edges, brown eyes that resembled melted chocolate, think pale lips, a straight nose, dimpled cheeks whenever he smiled and a pair of thin long legs. Girls swoon whenever he winks or displays one of his rare genuine smiles.
I kept this crush a secret, even from my best friend who was also a friend of Marks. When I thought he felt the same way towards me, it was the day he started winking at me anytime our eyes met. Whenever I saw him, we would exchange fist bumps and signature handshakes. Normally, I wasn't the ideal girl. What I mean was I wasn't so girlie. Even though I wore dresses and gowns, they were short and flay. My closet consisted mostly of jeans, shorts, bum shorts, jackets, crop tops, button-up shirts, gloves, tank tops and tee shirts. So typically I was a tom-boy, a hot one.
I appreciate men's company more than women. My best friend was a guy, Damien. He was friends with Mark, so I went almost everywhere with Damien because anywhere you see Damien you'll see Mark. It gave us an opportunity to spend more time together.
Mark had started flirting with me, peppering me with little pecks, even kissed me twice. I had been waiting for Mark to ask me out until the day, when all hopes came crashing in on me. That fateful night, Angel, Damiens' train of friends and I were hanging out at Damiens' place, when suddenly Mark was missing. When I asked about him, I was ignored. I decided to look for him myself. As I emerged into one of the bedrooms the guys shared, what I saw made me stop dead in my tracks. I was like, what the hell? Mark was making out with a brunette I recognized from school on the bed! I was so livid, I ran to the room Angel and I shared and took out a powdered substance I owned, ran back to where the couple were and emptied them.
"What the hell, Mira?" That was Mark. "iieeehhh, ow, ow, it hurts, someone help me itch it hurts bad! I felt like I was on fire, Mira. What the hell is this?" The brunette was literally dancing and itching at the same time. It made me laugh. On normal, the powder only works when in contact with water, and the brunette was covered in sweat. That's why it affected her more than Mark.
"Itching powder," I replied while picking my fingers.
"Oh, I am so going to kill you....get back here you bitch!"
Oops, Marks' pissed time to run! I ran down the stairs to where the rest were oblivious to what had happened upstairs, bolted through the door, leaving a startled audience behind—ran past the guards standing at the gate and into the street where I called my family's driver. After the incident, I got grounded for a week—mum didn't give me the punishment—but it didn't end there. The following week, my grandpa came visiting.
Not any ordinary visit where parents come to stay with their children and their children's children. His visit had me shipped to Russia, where I had to quit any form of education that hadn't to do with becoming a successful assassin.
Gran had said: 'You want to rebel?' You think you're strong, that you're tough or maybe invincible, right? I'll send you where they will break you up and remind you of something useful!' What he didn't know was I was more than glad to go where I would learn to be tougher, to be strong. But I didn't let it show, or they could change their minds. The goal was for me to still be a disobedient, strong-headed girl so they could bend me to their will. I never gave them that reason to bend me. So I graduated as a skilled assassin.
When I got back, I started behaving like the girl I was born and not because of anybody, but because, being an assassin, you couldn't let people know what you are, so you'll have to stay undercover. And that was where I met the douchebag standing in front of me. Donald had come to Russia then to visit his aunt.
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I turned to face Donald, cutting him off; "Don't Honey me, you Idiot, when did you meet with Danielle?"