CHAPTER 9
MIA
I apply some ointment to new my tattoo , though it's almost fully healed at this point.
Zane says I'm pretty good at this process.
Things turned out alright in the end after Zane called Charlie using a cool device called a cell phone. She checked me out over video chat, adjusted my medication, and I felt much better after a few days.
She also referred me to Dr. Giggles, as I like to call him because he never laughs at my dry humor during our sessions.
What I love most about Los Angeles is how I can go out. Zane got me one of those phones so I can stay connected with him, but what makes me happiest is knowing he never stops me from exploring.
I avoid crowded places because they give me headaches, and being in the sun too much makes my skin burn like crazy. Charlie explained it’s due to Piebaldism, which is pretty common among patients with this condition.
Anyway, Zane got me a phone to keep track of where I am and how I’m doing, but otherwise, I’m free—and that’s really cool.
Every day I spend here, I learn a little more about this world. I just wish One were here so we could experience more of it.
I love the beach.
I love the sun.
And I love wearing beach hats.
I love the jacuzzi and I also love eating waffles for breakfast.
I discovered my favorite color is yellow, and I love wearing black sweatshirts because they’re so comfortable. So when I found a pair of yellow plaid pants and a black top, I knew I had to have them. So I bought them.
Another cool thing: I have a shopping card. Well, Zane gave it to me.
Apparently, he’s a very famous tattoo artist in demand by celebrities. I saw it on TikTok—another cool thing that distracts me sometimes.
Zane bought me a bunch of dresses, but I prefer his clothes, which makes him sigh in defeat. But he never discourages me from wearing them. It’s cute.
He still avoids me like the plague, but I’m okay with it. He needs time to get used to the fact that he’s mine now.
It’s not just me who’s learning.
Zane was right. Los Angeles is like another world, something I’ve never seen before.
The lights, the sounds, the people…everything seems to move at a frenetic, almost disconcerting pace.
The city reminds me of a mirage, something you reach for but can never quite touch.
And maybe that's what I like, something I can't quite define. I don't know what possessed me to share so many things with Zane during the trip. He's a stranger, in a way, but he listens to me like no one else has ever listened to me.
Maybe it’s the way he looks at me, like he sees through the layers, or maybe it’s because I’ve never had this chance before—to be heard.
Part of me is grateful, and part of me? Part of me is confused. The echo in my mind is louder than ever.
“So you’re a tattoo artist,” I say as Zane makes me waffles.
Ever since we arrived in Los Angeles, he’s made sure to stock the kitchen with this delicious treat, as well as ice cream.
I had even tried ice cream, but Paulina had always been strict about my diet and hadn't allowed me to eat much of it. In fact, she hadn’t allowed me anything at all.
"Yeah, just let me know if you ever need another tattoo covered up," Zane says, placing the waffles on my plate and I devour them in no time.
Then he looks at me and I can see an apprehensive look in his eyes. I’ve come to recognize it more easily since he apparently uses it a lot when he’s around me.
“Are you really okay? To go out and see people.”
“Yeah, I had some people at the brothel. I’m super used to them.”
“Oh,” he comments as if he doesn’t quite know how to respond to my statement and I stand up.
I position myself on his lap, placing one leg on either side of his waist and his eyes widen in surprise “Mia—” he murmurs as I approach.
My eyes meet his and I trace my tongue along the corner of his mouth, cleaning the tail that was left in the corner. “Sweet.”
“Mia, you can’t do this,” he says, squeezing my waist tightly, but I look at him in confusion.
“You had a little bit of syrup on the corner of your mouth.”
“A warning would be enough.”
“I just wanted to help,” I look down and his expression softens as he tugs my chin towards him.
“Are you going to help everyone like this?” he murmurs the question in a genuine tone and I smile.
“No.” My teeth are now on full display and I run my hands through his hair. “Just you. Because you’re mine.”
"Excuse me?"
“I saw you that day in the hospital and I liked you. So you’re mine.”
Zane snorts, but doesn’t argue with me. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means what I said. That you're mine. Like in the movies. They see each other and they make it happen.”
“I think in real life things work a little differently, we don’t go around shouting and calling people ours.”
“So real life sucks, let’s act like the movies,” I say convincingly.
“Mia I put you in a coma.”
“Yeah, I did some research and that’s a really bad thing,” I say. Since everyone keeps referring to the fact that I was in a coma I did some research, which I also found out from Zane when he introduced me to his computer. Apparently, what happened to me was extremely rare—not the coma part, but the fact that I was fine after being in it for so long. “But lucky for you I like you, so it’s okay.”
Paulina had one for my studies, when she took over after Katie, but I could never use it. I had no idea that you could search for anything you wanted there and not just things related to school.
It's impressive.
“You know, I thought you were repressed about sharing,” Zane comments.
“That’s when I’m with my father,” I answer honestly. “I don’t have to hold back when I’m with you, do I?”
“No Mia, you don’t have to,” he says with a smile. “Well, go get ready then. You can pick out an outfit Charlie packed in your suitcase. And then we’ll head out.”
I take my time with my bath—it’s easily my favorite part.
Back in captivity, I was never conscious during bath time. It only happened a few times a week, maybe once a week, and someone else had to clean me if my father needed me for… a service.
Being able to bathe alone when I want is a very nice thing.
I slowly turn on the shower, excited by the experience, but the water that comes out is not good, but rather hot steam.
“Ah!” I shout, drawing Zane’s presence.
“Mia?”
“Zane, help. This water is weird.”
Zane opens the shower door and turns off the water in one precise movement. I don't think, I just hold on to him, letting my heartbeat calm down.
“Hey, it’s just steam,” he says comfortingly, but I notice his body going rigid.
“Is something wrong?” I ask confused.
“Maybe I should get you a towel.”
“No, I’m not done.”
“Mia.” He calls out and I stare at him. There’s something in his green eyes that makes my heart race. Maybe it’s the way they’ve gone from light to dark. My body reacts in a strange way.
“I can’t hold you naked Mia,” he says almost as if it’s painful and I stare at him even more confused.
"Why not?"
"Because."
“There has to be a reason.”
“Because my body doesn’t understand,” he blurts in a desperate, alarming tone. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
Take advantage of me? What does that mean? I could kill him if I wanted to. Why is he so worried about taking advantage of me?
“Mia, I know very little about you, but you’ve clearly been through a lot and still have a lot to figure out. I don’t think that’s right. And I can’t control my body’s reactions even if I would never act on them. It’s just…”
“You’re hard,” I say, reaching my hand down to the bulge in his pants that’s partially wet. “Do you want some help with that?”
“Fuck my life,” he curses and looks up as if begging for something and then looks at me. “You’re beautiful…”
Why is he telling me the obvious? I know I'm beautiful.
“I know,” I reply. “You don’t have to call me pretty if you want to joke around. I’m not much of a praise kink girl.”
“No, you don’t understand me, you’re beautiful, but can’t we do this.”
“So you don’t want me to do it? I used to help this guard who was watching over my cell all the time. He said it was painful to guard it and also when the master…”
“Please, I understand,” he says with a dark expression and I wonder if I said or did something wrong.
“Fuck Mia, I wish I could kill all those motherfuckers who took advantage of you.”
“You talk as if they did something wrong.”
“Whatever they did to you is wrong. Fuck Mia, it’s wrong and fucked up on so many levels and they’ve trained you not to care.”
“ Oh,” I smiled. “It’s fine. I just had to wait until they were done. I was trained to not feel pain. At first, it hurt like hell, but after a while, I was either unconscious or trying to bargain for extra food or favors. I know men like sex, and you’re a man.”
And then Zane does something that takes me by surprise, he takes off his shirt and slides it over my body.
“Starting today, I need you to promise me one thing,” he says looking into my eyes and I nod without hesitation.
“You won’t do favors for anyone anymore. And the only people who can touch you are the ones you allow. You promise me?”
I pretend to think.
“Will you be mine? If I do what you ask. Will you be mine?”
Zane looks into my eyes for a while as if reluctantly and then nods.
“Great, then I’ll do that. Without letting people touch me.”
“Me included,” he argues.
“That’s unfair,” I pout. “I want you, angel.”
I can't be without my new toy.
“Real life isn’t fair, now let me teach you how to turn on that shower properly,” he says, leaving no room for discussion.
The convention lights were too bright , flashing neon as the sound of tattoo needles vibrated around me. I was still getting used to it all—the chaos, the people, the whispers.
“Good to see you’re wearing clothes today,” Houseboy Carter comments, his tone already cold, not hiding the disdain in his voice.
I blink, momentarily confused. “Uh, thanks? I mean, what else would I wear? I thought this was the normal thing to do,” I say, trying to keep it light, though his attitude makes the air a little tense.
Carter doesn't seem impressed. "Right. Normal," he mutters, his eyes scanning me like he's already bored.
I can’t help but laugh quietly, more to myself than him. “Well, if you were expecting something else, I’m afraid you're out of luck,” I say, still trying to keep it playful, but his glare tells me he’s not interested in my version of humor.
He just looks away, his disinterest palpable, and I shake my head, deciding it’s probably best to move on.
Weird boy.
I like the noise of music.
But I really don't like the noise of people.
Go to a quiet place.
But then I saw Zane. He looked so calm, so focused, his hands steady as he drew the art on the skin of the girl in front of him.
There was something almost hypnotic about watching him work, as if nothing else around him mattered.
Until she laughed.
The high-pitched sound of her laughter pierced my ears, and my eyes narrowed immediately. The girl, blonde and thin, was leaning forward in her chair, looking at him with an expression that made me stiffen. She bit her lip in a way that… wasn’t right. I knew what she was doing.
"You're really good with your hands, aren't you?" she said, her voice too honeyed. "I don't think I've ever been tattooed by someone so... talented."
My heart began to beat faster, each beat seeming to echo in my head.
The voices whispered, telling me what I already knew. She's flirting with him. She wants him.
They are here, the voices have not left me. Sometimes I need to concentrate to stay in touch with my reality, but those occasions do not happen as often as the voices. The voices are always there.
Because we protect you.
My vision blurred for a second, and all I could see was the way she was looking at him. My body moved before I could control it.
I was standing next to the tattoo table, and my hand gripped her wrist tightly, harder than I intended. Her fake smile instantly disappeared, replaced by a look of pain and surprise. I liked Zane and wanted to keep him for myself, I didn’t like the idea of people touching what was mine.
I always hated sharing. One always used to annoy me about it. He would purposely take my things. Only because he liked it when I got out of control. Because if I did it would mean there would be blood. But Katie hated it when we made each other bleed.
And I hated seeing Katie sad.
"Let him go," I said, my voice low but thick with anger.
Zane stopped tattooing instantly, his eyes flicking up to me in alarm. “Mia, what are you doing?”
The girl tried to pull her arm away, but I didn't let her. I could feel the blood pulsing in my hands, I could feel the fear and despair growing in every part of the girl's body and it was kind of funny.
I miss playing. People who touch things they don't deserve should be punished.
"Mia, let her go," Zane said more firmly, but his voice was still calm, trying to reach me. I could see the tension in his shoulders, like he was trying not to scare me anymore.
He never could.
“She’s touching you,” I replied, the words coming out harsh, almost like a growl. “They can’t touch you.”
Zane put down the tattoo machine and stood, approaching me cautiously, as if he were approaching a cornered animal. “Mia, she’s not doing anything. She’s just a client. You can’t… you can’t hurt people like that.”
I squeezed the girl’s wrist once more before letting go. My breathing was rapid, and my head was spinning from the noise around me. Zane’s gaze was fixed on me, not with anger, but with concern.
"I know this sounds weird," he continued, his voice low, just for me, "but you have to trust me. No one here is going to hurt you. And you can't attack people.”
I stood there for a moment, trying to make sense of it. The girl was holding her wrist, her eyes wide, like she didn’t know whether to cry or scream. And the voices… they were still there, telling me that Zane was wrong, that I was right.
But for some reason, I wanted to believe him.
"Let's get out of here for a while," Zane suggested, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Get some air."
I nodded, still not completely trusting my hands, or the voices.