Mia's Story

Chapter One

My job is easy. I sit in a interrogation room writing down the conversation. Today the gossip is highly intriguing. 

"I'll press record now, you know the rules, Mr Pool," says the interrogator as he always does. 

"I do,"

"State your name,"

"Cameron Pool. P O O L,"

"Mr Pool, your here because of the multiple crimes you have committed nationally over the past years,"

Pool nods in a false sincere way, "That's right,"

"Your first admittance to the reputable crime ways was in England, was it not? Where you murdered three people whilst in the process of a successful robbery?"

"That is correct,"

"And you were not alone?"

"Correct,"

"And who were those people who accompanied you during the robbery, Mr Pool?"

"Ah, that I can not say,"

"Any reason?"

Pool takes a wavering glance at me when I finished scribbling down the latest statement. I furrow my eyebrows at him as he smiles. 

His gaze returns to the interrogator, "Omerta,"

My writing stops mid-word. 

"Omerta? Isn't that term used in the Mafia?"

"It is,"

"Your in the Mafia?" his usual formality slips away from him as the initial shock takes over.

"Was,"

"You broke Omerta?"

"Indeed,"

"What did you do?"

"I broke the rules,"

"And you won't tell me what rules you broke?"

"No,"

"Why?"

"Because that is punishable by death,"

"Mr Pool, your in safe hands here, nobody can get you,"

"Alright, I'll tell you one thing,"

The interrogator and I lean in as if he would whisper what he would say next.

"I never agreed with one thing that happened with the Mafia,"

"And what is that?"

"Sex trafficking,"

I stop writing altogether. I drop my pen and sit back as if someone just spat in my face. Pool looks at me again like he knows what those words mean to me. 

"Mia, are you okay?" asks the interrogator. 

I nod without breaking eye contact with Pool. 

"Tell me more about this dislike of sex trafficking, Mr pool,"

"I just generally disagree with it. The way we dealt with it was gruesome. We would take girls from our sources, we never knew where they got the girls from but the boss didn't mind. They were shipped over borders and into America where they would be dealt with. They would be sold to the highest bidders and used however they would like. I could never imagine the trauma the poor girls went through so one time I did something about it. There was a young girl, the youngest we'd ever brought in. She was scared and lonely. She was fourteen,"