Midnight Angel H.S COMPLETED

03

I lay awake, tired, in my bed, trying to keep my eyes open.

It turns out six hours of sleep isn't enough.

Although I'd much rather sleep all day, I need to hand the proof to my mum down at her office.

Without moving, I look for the camera with all the information inside. Almost immediately, I find it peeking out of my bag where I left it last night.

I lazily reach to get up but collapse back into the warm sheets of my bed.

I groan and wait, keeping my eyes closed.

I need more sleep.

Finally, I manage to roll out of the warm blankets and then meander to my wardrobe. I swing open the doors and see various different outfits.

In our organisation, we are somewhat limited on what we can wear. Surprisingly, we can wear short skirts but you'd have to wear long socks or tights to cover the skin. Colours are allowed inside the bakery only. But, mum prefers people to be sensibly dressed before entering her clean office. I'm not an exception.

I wear a plain white top and deep blue jeans before swiping the camera and then I leave my bedroom.

I make my way down to her office, slightly rushing. Mum always complains about me being late to send her stuff, which I understand. The latest I've ever been was three seconds.

Rule number 135: Never be late.

I walk down the hallway, looking down at the camera, watching the proof back.

"The girl back at your Paris chatau?"

Who is the girl?

I think it may be the missing girl.

Just because I'm the daughter of the bakery owner, doesn't mean I know everything. I pretty much know what everyone else does.

"Miller."

And who's Miller?

None of my business.

I can't help with being curiou-

I pause, feeling myself burn up as I slowly look forward and see a muscular figure that I bumped into. The person has a cross necklace hanging down from his neck.

I then slowly look up at his face. He's frowning, his plum lips holding a cigarette in his mouth. His green eyes hold anger as he stares deeply into my soul.

"I'm sorry I-"

"Don't say sorry, darling." His accent pops. He's not from London, I can tell. And we're going to pretend he didn't call me darling. "Am I in your way?"

"No-"

"Then watch your step." He says coldly.

In confusion and embarrassment, I turn and see my mum walking out of her office.

"Hazel, you're just in time, I have a mission for you."

"Come inside!" She says politely.

The man in front of me scowls before heading inside her office. Why is he so rude? All I did was bump into him.

And I apologised!

Let alone he was smoking inside the building!

Hazel, it's okay, mum will deal with it.

I try not to let it bring me down and instead smile before sitting down on the seat.

The man makes himself comfortable and sits opposite me. His bloodshot, green eyes glance at me before he stares back down at his lap. I notice his cigar is no longer in his mouth then I look at his hands crossed together as he fiddles with his thumbs. His fingers are littered with rings as he takes a long inhale.

I hear mum sitting on her spinny chair then redirect my attention to her.

I then hear three more people walk into the room, filling in the empty seats between us.

There's a blonde man with ripped, blue jeans sat beside me and I feel his arm drop on the back of my chair. Next to the rude man, I see a man with a tank top on, crossing one leg over the other, drowning in his seat. Beside the blonde one, I see a shorter man with a white tee on, the sleeves bright red.

I look at my mum as she leans on the desk, ready to speak. "Good morning," She greets us "All five of you have been assigned a mission together. It'll last three months, including preparing." She explains.

Although I'm focused on what my mission is, I can't help but feel this coldness in the room. It feels as if you broke your mum's favourite vase and you and your sibling are awkwardly sat with her discussing who broke it.

I glance at the person that is radiating the cold tone of this room to see he is smirking to his lap, looking like he's in a long train of thoughts.

The shorter man and the person sat next to Mr Ring Fingers are giggling to each other about something. The shorter man's smile is a lot more softer than the other man's.

"How old are you?" The person beside me butters up my mouth. Waiting for a response, he fiddles with his silver lip ring in the corner of his mouth. Although what he's asking is completely disgusting and unnecessary, I can appreciate a strong Irish accent. Still doesn't validate his question.

"Classified." She bites back. She does the eye glance she always does when people ask her irrelevant or stupid questions and continues. "Your task is to get back an employee of mine."

"Last week, Gemma Styles went missing. Her location is in Paris currently and it's your job to get her back." She looks at the person opposite me, as do I.

He has anger boiling upon his face, and his fists are clenched together, his knuckles going white.

Maybe Gemma is someone special to him.

Sister?

Friend?

Cousin?

"You have three months to plan the mission as well as doing the mission. Questions?" She says startled at the angered face of the green-eyed man.

"Can I talk to you after this?" the rude man asks.

"No, I think Haz-"

"I'm going to talk to you." He says, taking away any sense of option.

I'm so close to telling him to watch his mouth.

Mum wouldn't want me to speak to people like that.

But I'm going to have to spend three months with him.

Who knew I could be so unlucky?

We all get up and leave, except for the man and my mother.

I peek through the window and my heart stops. I forget how to move, breathe or talk as I see my mum pinned up against the wall by the man.

Rule number 68: Know how to lip read.

"What the fuck did you do with her, you fucking little shit!"

Mum, looking scared as she should, I can tell she stutters the answer.

"I-"

"Is she dead?"

"I don't kn-"

"It's fucking simple. Is she dead or is she not?"

Mum stays still and quiet in fright.

How dare he.

"You better hope to fuck she ain't dead." He drops mum and leaves, throwing his cigar back in his mouth, my mum's face is left red.

A pit in my stomach becomes noticeable as he barges through the door, his devious eyes burning with rage and then he turns to me. And only me.

Knowing what he's already done to my mother, I freeze, unable to comprehend shit. "Three months." He says. "Watch out, darling."

He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and then barges it into mine.

"Two warnings left."