Not her

I was made to go wash myself and get dressed up in beautiful clothings. After that, I was walked back into the medical room where I'm made to sit on one of the beds for a quick check up.

I still didn't know the nature of this mission and what I'm supposed too do with this Gregory Silverado man. Would he be sleeping with me or asking me to do his dirty jobs for him? Killing his counterparts, that he was very good at. A corrupt man.

"This is going to hurt a little bit, Melanie." the doctor says as he approaches me, a syringe full of some liquid in between his fingers.

"What's that?" I asked him, my eyes watching his movements.

" It's sedative." he replied. Before I could register what he said, there's a sharp pain my my arm as he injected me with the needle.

Instantly, as the sedative speed through my bloodstream, I started feeling dizzy. My eyes are Getty heavy and my body getting weak.

I tried to open my eyes but they were shutting faster. The last thing I remembered was falling over the soft bed, my subconsciousness falling into deep darkness.

                   >>> Flashback <<<

    I was five years old. I'm dressed in my favorite shimmering pale blue satin mixed with lace dress. My mocca brown hair is tied up into a neat donut on the center of my head as I always loved it done by my mother. I'm seated on the translucent marbled floor, legs folded underneath me. I watched straight ahead as my mother stretched on the handrail. A gentle song is playing from a sterio tape she always sets down on the draw table right below the window.

    At the far corner of my left stood the magical floor length mirrors that kept reflecting my little pale body. But I was too distracted watching my mother moving her slim body in her ballet flats, and her shimmering pink dress to take interest in my countless mirror reflections yet.

    I was mesmerized by the idea of dancing on your tiptoes, having the world cheer at your feet like we always watched on the TV by some french performers.

    I loved that my mother owned a big ballet house in the middle of Chicago avenue streets, having tall and small children come in every afternoon to practice the art of dancing. I loved everything. I loved the subtle art of colors and movements. Every night, I waited to grow up so I could dance like her.

    My mother thinks I'm still too young and can't handle a broken toe. I was skinny and nobody wanted to watch me dance without fearing I may break a toe and that was okay. For now, I was okay watching her do all the dance steps.

    It's an early busy morning. Daddy had left after planting a kiss on my forehead. He needed to catch a train to Moscow for a business. I missed him already. Mother had dressed me up so we'd come into the ballet hall. The hall is wide enough, attached to the front of our house. You'd barely know that we lived in the fragment of this large hall at the back. I loved our home. It was small and beautiful. I loved my parents, they were always wearing a smile. I couldn't wait to grow up.

    I watched my mother pirouette around the handrail, turning her back to me. That was when the light caught my eyes. From the corner where you could easily see the room before stepping in, from the spot where the shoes are left behind before stepping into the dance hall. I squinted, catching the eyes of a man. He has a grin on, his leathered hand beckoning for me to come over. Distractedly, I stood up and after taking three steps was standing right in front of a man who was apparently squatting. As soon as I was in his level, he rose up. He's wearing a wide brown hat with a rectangular red lid on it.

    My father had left dressed like that, like the typical local Chicago men did. Brown long coats with matching or mismatched trousers, long shiny boots and a wide hat. For a split second there, I'd thought it was my father but everything soon unraveled in my eyes.

    He wasn't my father. He was a complete stranger. I felt his big hands grab me, stealing me from there and leaving me to watch my mother's back as she disappeared from my eyes, his other hand pressed down on my mouth, muffling my upcoming screams, his other hand holding me against his chest.

    And that was it. I'd ...... I'd....

    I felt the life seeping back into my body as the memory became foggy, the back of my mother that has seemingly been part of my being even after so many years fading away. Again.

    My body felt numb. It was like I could hear the silence. I tried to open my eyes but all I saw where blurry whites and wet eyelashes sticking out above my eyes.

    I saw a vision of a woman hovering over me, her voice coming after. " Melanie? " She calls, as she carefully helps me sit up on the bed.

I don't know this woman and didn't know where I was. But I felt the soft white bed underneath me.

I looked around the room and could feel nothing but pain around my body. The room is dashingly beautiful, classy and modern.

" You need to get ready for the young master " she says as she helps me to my feet.

" Young master? " I asked, confused.

" Alpha Nikolas " she provides.

Alpha Nikolas?

Where was I? I remembered getting sedated back in the lab and that was it. Now I'm waking up in this fancy bedroom. It's hardly what I was expecting.

As I walked into the bathroom with this woman, I began to wonder if my fate lead me here. If I was fated to be some alpha's prostitute.