Survival mode
1052 Words
Vanora Campbell
I’ve seen my mother die—felt her last breath against my skin as she bled out in my arms. But watching someone get shot, right in front of me, for my sake? That was different. That was worse.
I knew these people were dangerous. The moment I realized I had been thrown into the world of the mafia, I knew my chances of survival were slim. My father had always hated me, resented me for looking like the woman he murdered. But instead of putting a bullet in my head like he did to her, he found another way to erase me from his life—by handing me over to the devil himself.
I pressed my back against the wall, curling into myself, my face buried between my knees. I had to keep it together. I knew I looked strong, fearless even, but inside? Watching someone die like that had cracked something inside me.
That bastard.
That monster.
How could he be so calm after killing an innocent girl?
The door creaked open. Heavy footsteps. My entire body tensed before I lifted my gaze. And there he was. Zavi Covillie.
He towered over me, a joint between his fingers, his other hand tucked casually into his pocket like he hadn’t just murdered someone in cold blood. His frigid blue eyes cut right through me.
“Get up.” The command was sharp, absolute.
I didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Instead, I met his gaze with all the defiance I had left in me.
“You motherfucking, blood-sucking demon,” I spat through gritted teeth, biting my lip to keep myself from cursing him further.
He smirked, a slow, taunting thing, as he strode across the room. Lowering himself to my level, he gripped my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes.
“You won’t end well if you keep talking to me like that.” His voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it—a warning.
I smirked right back. “I’m not afraid of you.”
His grin didn’t reach his eyes. “No? But you’re afraid of death.”
I froze. My breath hitched.
His fingers loosened, and he pulled back slightly, watching the flicker of fear in my eyes with satisfaction. Bastard.
“But you didn’t have to kill that girl,” I said, voice quieter but still sharp. “She did nothing.”
“She covered for you,” he replied with a shrug, like it was nothing.
“But I didn’t kill him! There was nothing to cover up.”
He sighed dramatically, flicking the ash off his joint. “Oh, dear. He’s dead.”
I felt my stomach drop. My fingers clenched into the fabric of my dress. I killed someone.
“You look surprised,” he mused, almost amused. “You’ll get used to it. You’ll have to. You need to learn how to kill.”
I shook my head, my nails digging into my palm. “Never.”
He exhaled a thin stream of smoke, his lips curling into a dark smile. “Then I’ll kill you and everyone you’ve ever loved. You better learn how to survive, Vanora.”
His gaze flicked down to my ankle. “I’ll have the family doctor look at that.”
And just like that, he turned and left.
Tears burned my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. So this is what my life had become? A tool to be used, trained into a killer?
No.
I wouldn’t let them break me.
---
I was already awake when the door creaked open again.
A young red-haired woman stepped inside, carrying a first aid kit. She scanned the room before spotting me on the floor.
"Hi, my name is Davina. I'm a doctor," she introduced herself, her voice soft.
I stared at her. Like I gave a damn.
She approached and crouched in front of me. "Ma’am, you'll need to sit on the bed so I can check your wound."
"My name’s Vanora," I muttered, my voice flat. "And I can take care of myself."
"Alright, Nora.” She tested the name like she was trying it out. “But the boss will kill me if I don’t make sure you’re okay before tomorrow."
Something in her voice made me look at her again. Her brown eyes were pleading, earnest.
I sighed and pushed myself up. She took my arm, steadying me, and guided me to the bed with surprising gentleness.
“I know you’re going through a lot,” she said as she knelt in front of me, carefully lifting my leg onto her lap, “but if you do what the boss says, you’ll be fine. It’s the only way to survive here.”
I didn’t answer.
She examined my ankle, pressing lightly. “Well, it’s not swelling, so that’s a good sign. But I’ll give you a pain reliever and some ice packs just in case. You’ll be okay.”
I pulled my leg back from her lap, watching as she packed up her supplies.
“Thank you,” I mumbled, barely realizing I had said it until she smiled at me.
For the first time in years, I had thanked someone.
She had a kind smile, warm despite the sadness in her eyes. Her short red hair framed her face perfectly, and for a moment, I wondered how someone like her had ended up here.
"I'm always here if you need something," she reassured me. "Everything’s going to be fine."
Strangely, her words soothed me.
“I’ll check on you in the morning. In the meantime, I’ll send the meds through the cook. Get some rest, okay?"
With one last kind smile, she turned and left.
And just like that, she became the first decent person I had met in this godforsaken place.
Well, besides Daisy. Wait—was that her name? Hell if I knew. But I did remember Zavi—the devil—and Wallace, his right-hand demon.
They had kidnapped me. Held me against my will.
If they thought I would break, that I would become one of them, they were dead wrong.
Because I would escape.
And before I did, I was going to kill Zavi Covillie.
He had asked for it.
- Writer
