Dorathy
"Catch her! Don't let her escape!"
Those words echoed behind me as I ran with all my might, veering down a deserted road and hiding between two buildings. Pressing myself against the wall, I struggled to catch my breath.
The men drew closer, guns raised and ready to fire. I smirked as they decided to split up.
One of them came near, his back to me. I seized the opportunity, sweeping his legs with a swift kick. He cried out and fired, but I dodged just in time the bullet missing me by inches.
I knocked the gun from his hand, and we engaged in a fierce fight. The sound of his shout alerted his partner, who rushed toward us.
Gripping the first man by the neck, I prepared to snap it when he suddenly screamed, "Fire!"
Acting on instinct, I released him and kicked him forward. His partner's bullet struck him square in the forehead. He collapsed instantly, lifeless.
The second man froze, horrified by what he'd done. But I didn't give him time to recover. Charging forward, I snatched the fallen gun and fired two quick shots clean headshots.
A victorious smile crept across my face as I picked up their weapons and concealed them on my body. Composed, I walked out of the alley as though nothing had happened.
Emerging from the secluded area, I scanned my surroundings to ensure no one had seen me. Satisfied, I hurried toward my street.
Once home, I unlocked the door, slipped inside, and locked it behind me, panting heavily.
My mother wheeled herself toward me, her face filled with fear and concern.
"Is everything alright?" she asked, her voice trembling.
I smiled and kissed her forehead gently.
"Yes, Mother. Just a little fight," I reassured her.
Cheerfully, I pushed her wheelchair toward the kitchen.
"Are you hungry?"
She nodded and offered a faint smile.
"I'll prepare something," I said, then hurried to my room, stashing the gun beneath my bed. When I came out, I washed my hands thoroughly before chopping vegetables and quickly preparing scrambled eggs with bread and orange juice.
After we ate, I cleared the table and washed the dishes. I changed out of the dress and threw it into the waste bin I wanted nothing more to do with that wealthy man. I slipped into a slim sleeved, knee length gown and went to my mother's room to help her take her medication.
As I approached the table to get her pills, I noticed her gaze fixed on me, but I brushed it off.
"Mother, you need to take your medication now," I said, popping a capsule from its sachet and handing it to her with a glass of water.
When she finished, I smiled and hugged her. She patted my back reassuringly, but when I pulled away, she gestured for me to sit on the bed.
"Mother, are you alright?" I asked, sensing her tense expression.
She let out a deep sigh.
"Where were you last night?"
My heart nearly jumped out of my chest.
I had always come home, even when working late but last night was different. My body… Why had I been so careless? Now she would think the worst.
"I was at the hotel," I replied, embarrassment washing over me as I avoided her eyes. My mother had always known me to be principled, despite the nature of my job. But today, I felt like I had truly disappointed her.
"Dorathy… where were you really?" she pressed, her voice quivering.
How could I tell her I had willingly given my body to save a man's life? It sounded absurd and shameful. I remembered her constant warnings to stay out of trouble and mind my business.
Swallowing hard, I knew there was no point hiding anymore.
"I was with a man last night," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
I hated those words. They tasted bitter.
My mother didn't say a word. She simply burst into tears, sobbing like a child.
"No, Mother, please don't cry," I pleaded. "It was an accident."
But even I didn't believe those words. I had already admitted to being with a man , calling it an accident was a pathetic excuse.
Tears welled in my eyes, sliding down my cheeks as anger churned in my chest.
Why didn't I just let that bastard die? Why did I get involved at all?
Suddenly, my mother's chest began to heave. Her breath shortened.
"No! Mother!" I cried, rushing to grab her inhaler. I helped her use it, and after a tense moment, her breathing finally steadied.
"I'm sorry, Mother. I promise I'll take full responsibility for whatever happens," I said, trying to calm her.
"I know you're an adult and wouldn't act rashly," she said softly. "But where is this man? I'd like to meet him."
Her words sent a jolt through me.
How could I explain that it had been a one night stand? My mother, who prized dignity above all else, would never understand.
"Mother, please, let's not talk about that now," I said gently, helping her lie down. "You've stressed yourself too much already."
I kissed her forehead and left the room, heading to mine across the hall.
Sitting on my bed, I reflected on how terribly my life had spiraled.
We had once been a wealthy, happy family my father, mother, sister, and I. But everything changed when a ruthless mafia leader became obsessed with me, demanding that I become his lover.
At first, he wooed me with gentle gestures cards, flowers, designer clothes, shoes, and bags. I rejected everything.
But my rejection enraged him. His obsession deepened, and he began threatening my family, vowing to kill them if I continued refusing him.
Still, I stood firm. I swore I'd never give myself to a man I despised.
So he retaliated.
He destroyed our family business, driving us into bankruptcy. And then, he went even further he murdered my father.
The tragedy shattered my mother. She suffered a stroke and became paralyzed. Our home was set ablaze, but by some miracle, my mother was rescued. Even so, she sustained severe burns and developed asthma from the toxic smoke.
Furious and heartbroken, I felt utterly powerless. He had too much influence, too many connections.
Eventually, I gave in but not without a plan.
I went to his villa, pretending I'd changed my mind. I told him I wanted to be with him alone so we could "enjoy ourselves." Like the arrogant fool he was, he believed me.
That night, I prepared him a meal laced with a paralytic drug.
After he ate, we moved to the bedroom. He was eager to have his way with me, but I stalled, kissing him just long enough for the drug to take effect.
When it did, he collapsed on the bed paralyzed and helpless.
Standing over his motionless body, I let the weight of my pain and rage flood out.
"I hope you rot in hell," I whispered.
Then, with cold precision, I stabbed him again and again watching as his life drained into a pool of blood.