CHAPTER 2
MIA
“I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks Charlie, what the fuck?” Zane huffs, walking towards her.
“Well, you stopped trying because I had to take the news that Mia had woken up from someone else.” Her voice comes out all business like she’s testing my name in her mouth.
She and Zane seem close, like they know each other beyond this hospital.
Zane seems irritated. Or maybe he's just really rude to people in general.
Not with me, though.
He was strange, yes—off in a way I couldn’t quite place—but never rude.
Their voices dissolve into the background, a murmur I can't untangle, as my eyes catch the mirror across the room. I’m drawn to it, almost reluctantly, like approaching something I’m afraid to touch but can’t resist.
When I step closer, the image that stares back at me is both foreign and familiar. It’s the first time in years I’ve seen myself, truly seen myself, and the face reflected is a stranger's.
My eyes—blue and green, like shards of ice meeting moss—feel darker than I remember, framed by deep shadows that weren’t there before. They’re sharp now, almost piercing, as if trying to see through me.
I reach up, brushing trembling fingers over my skin. It’s pale, nearly translucent, as though I’ve spent too long hidden from the world. My cheeks are hollow, my jawline sharper than I recall. But then, I barely remember anything about myself from before.
My gaze travels upward, and there it is—the lock of white in my hair, a stark streak against the darker strands. Piebaldism, Paulina called it once, though her explanation was clinical, devoid of sentiment. Father didn’t care to explain it. He only called it a blemish, something to cover, something to make me less noticeable.
But now, it stands out starkly, cutting through the wild mess of hair that falls around my face. It’s untamed, much like me, and a part of me wonders if this streak is the truest thing about my reflection.
This is me.
But it’s also not.
The girl in the mirror is a product of her cage. I stare at the doctor and for a moment I am mesmerized. Her serpentine eyes and heart-shaped mouth are a perfect match for her delicate yet lethal face.
She is beautiful.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell the blonde doctor, because it’s true. She is indeed beautiful. Her eyes curve into a gentle smile and I stare into her orbs for a few seconds, momentarily distracted by her reflection.
I can see him, through her eyes.
My little angel.
I catch myself staring too long, my chest tightening with a feeling I can’t quite name. It’s foreign and warm, like a fluttering deep inside that spreads through me before I can stop it.
I’ve never seen anyone like him. Ever.
I want to keep looking, to trace every detail of his face with my eyes—the slight curve of his lips, the way his jawline is just sharp enough to make him seem both soft and strong. I wonder what it would feel like to touch his hair, to let the soft curls wrap around my fingers.
For the first time, I’m not thinking about control, about reading someone to gain the upper hand. I’m just... here, caught in his orbit, feeling like the world narrowed to him and the way he somehow makes it seem a little brighter.
I feel weird and I’m not sure I like it.
“You must be feeling very confused wondering how you ended up here,” she assumes, but I smile.
“Not really,” I mutter. Confusion is definitely not what I’m feeling right now.
I wasn't raised to feel these things out of curiosity. Father would be angry simply for my appearance to show it. And so would my master. But there isn’t much room for feelings when you’ve been molded into a hollow shell, raised to be the quiet, obedient girl with nothing inside. Just empty. Just dead. Feelings were a luxury I was never meant to have—a weakness carved out of me long before I could understand what it meant to truly be alive.
He always wanted me sweet. Lethal. A weapon to be used against his enemies when needed.
But in reality, I gained a completely fucked up brain. Making me somewhat useless to their plans.
I was bored, I always get bored when it comes to business.
“No?” The restless voice doesn’t come from Charlie but from the boy next to her, my little angel.
"No."
“Can you check on her? She might have some after-effects from the accident.”
“I feel fine,” I tell him, and then look into his lost green eyes. They’re beautiful but look tired. “You don’t look well. Can I help you with something?”
“You’re the person in the hospital bed. Why are you asking if I need help?” He looks at me, somewhat amused.
Shit, I have a crush.
Katie said she had never felt a crush on a man. But there was this girl Ellie, who she admired a lot. She had a crush. But sometimes I imagine that Ellie is a made-up person in her head, I've been there.
I can't help the way his confused looks make me blush.
He is beautiful. I have never seen anyone so beautiful.
Maybe because you're used to looking at old, disgusting men, Father made a point of it.
But he is not like that.
Maybe Father forgot. He was always very careful not to let men “my age” near me.
I've always been treated like a dangerous monster. Maybe because I am one.
I know that.
Is he real?
And her?
Please let him be real. Please.
“You don’t have any questions?” Charlie looks at me suspiciously and I shake my head.
What's the point in asking questions? It's not like anything will change.
Wait.
“Actually, I do have one.” My voice comes out as such a hushed whisper that I wonder if she actually heard it, but her expression changes to one of caring and I continue.
"Is the angel real?" I ask the same question I asked Zane before.
“The angel?”
“Zane,” I say with a smile. “Tell me if he’s real.”
Charlie looks at me as if she senses something in my words and then nods.
“Zane is real, unfortunately.” Her voice is filled with something I can’t quite decipher.
Maybe joy? I think I read about that feeling in a book before.
No, maybe not exactly that.
“What’s wrong with her?” Zane asks Charlie.
“Well, she just woke up from a three-year coma, so she's obviously a little disoriented.”
“Okay, then my work here is done,” he turns to Charlie. “I’ll be heading back to my seat.”
The heaven? Is that where he comes from?
“No you won’t, stop being such an asshole.”
“If I’m an asshole you’d know it,” Zane snaps. “Charlie girl.”
“Stop being such a boring brat.”
“When you stop acting like a grumpy old woman I will.”
“You put the girl in a coma, the least you can do is stay with her while she adjusts.”
“I don’t mind if you stay,” I interject with a smile and Charlie smiles, as if she finds my stance funny.
“She likes you,” Charlie observes and Zane rolls his eyes.
“She must be mistaking me for someone else.”
“I would never confuse you, little angel.”
And I look at Charlie and smile back, because I can't help but smile, the girl is mesmerizing.
“Angel?” Zane’s voice comes out more confused than ever. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
Shit, I said that out loud.
Master would punish you with three days in solitary confinement for letting your intrusive thoughts run wild, foolish girl.
I see him, One, he's here trying to talk to me. How did he get here?
To be quite honest, I don't really like the evil version of One.
Shut up, I don't need your comments right now, crybaby.
You know I hate it when you call me that.
So learn your place, ha!
He disappeared.
I really didn't want him to disappear.
I like it when my other half visits me.
I don’t know what he looks like—my mind doesn’t work that way.
People aren’t people in my head, not really. They’re characters, fragmented versions of who they might be, and One? He’s one of them.
A piece of me that whispers advice, though he often ends up being a pain in the ass.
Reality, for me, is slippery, shaped by the fractured lens through which I see the world. I wouldn’t say I’m insane—just misunderstood. Other people don’t get the way my reality works, and that’s where the problems start.
“Are you listening?” The boy—Zane—repeats himself, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I blink, realizing I’ve been staring at nothing. “No?” I offer with a smile. “Do you work with my Father ? Is he coming soon?”
Zane looks confused, but it’s the blonde doctor, Charlie, who speaks, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “Your father? Who’s your father, honey?”
The question makes me flinch, my stomach twisting. Father always said never to tell strangers personal things. If they don’t know who he is, that makes them enemies, and I can’t betray Father to the enemy.
But despite my wariness, there’s a strange relief bubbling in my chest. I’m not locked up anymore.
I hate punishment.
And punishment is inevitable when you behead your supposed fiancé.
Uncle James would’ve laughed at the humor, but he’s dead now. Father? He’s not the type to find jokes funny.
“Mia?” My angel’s voice pulls me back, soft and melodic.
I turn to him with another smile. “I’m feeling much better, thank you.”
Pulling the wires off my body, I stand up. Charlie watches me closely, but Zane’s brows furrow deeper, his confusion practically tangible .
“Should she be doing that?” he asks, glancing at Charlie.
“She can do whatever she wants,” Charlie replies coolly. “I’m not keeping her prisoner.”
I smile at the exchange. My excitement builds with every step toward the door. For the first time in my life, I’m about to see the world beyond the walls that caged me.
The moment my feet hit the cold concrete outside, I stop, overwhelmed. It’s vast—so much bigger than I ever imagined. Katie’s stories never prepared me for this.
I wander aimlessly, letting my feet guide me until the smell of something unfamiliar but delicious makes my stomach growl.
If you eat without your father’s permission, he’ll punish you.
Let him.
Following the scent, I step into a small restaurant. The cold floor chills my bare feet, and heads turn as I walk in. Their eyes linger too long, drinking in the sight of my disheveled hair, the white streaks standing out like scars against the dark. The thin hospital gown clings to my body, revealing too much, but I don’t care.
My attention is locked on a plate of golden, net-like food dripping with a rich, brown syrup and topped with a dollop of white cream. My mouth waters. I grab a handful and devour it, the sweet, buttery flavor exploding on my tongue.
“Hey!” a man shouts, his voice thick with irritation. “That’s mine, sweetheart. If you’re going to eat it, you’ll have to pay.”
I ignore him and take another bite, savoring the warmth.
“Cat got your tongue, darling?” He steps closer, his hand settling on my waist.
Big mistake.
I turn my head slowly, meeting his gaze with a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “You shouldn’t have done that. You’re not part of my protocol. You didn’t pay for me, and you definitely don’t have my father’s permission to touch me.”
“You ate my food. You pay,” he growls.
I tilt my head, mocking innocence. “That’s not very chivalrous. Where are your manners?”
With a quick motion, I grab his hand, twisting it until the sickening crack of breaking bones fills the air. The sound is satisfying, calming.
“Crazy bitch!” he howls, clutching his wrist.
“It’s bad to swear,” I chastise, my voice dripping with faux sweetness. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”
I grab a knife from the table, pressing it to his throat. His face pales as he pleads.
“Please, please, take whatever you want! Just don’t kill me!”
I smile wider, the blade steady in my hand. “But then how would I have fun?”
“Ma’am,” the server stammers, his voice shaking, “I need you to put the knife down. You’re scaring the customers.”
I turn to him, my eyes narrowing. “And no one was scared when he touched me without permission?”
The man looks down, shame coloring his features.
“Mia!” My angel’s voice cuts through the tension, and I look up to see him standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of worry and frustration.
My heart stumbles in my chest. He came for me.
“Hi,” I say softly, dropping the knife and smoothing my gown as if it will make me presentable.
My pulse quickens as he approaches, and I can’t help the small, shy smile tugging at my lips.