Living Nightmare | m.y.g (angst/smut)

Prologue

2002, Canada

A girl, who's hugging a pile of fresh, disorganized laundry in her arms, humming to a familiar song she can only sing, takes a quiet hallway in peace as she led herself back to her room. In the middle of her traverse, her eyes meet an endearing figure of a girl crying, standing by the window. The scene made her brows furrow in confusion as she's never been met by the likes of such scenarios like this and she looks innocent fumbling in her thoughts as she stares at the girl. There are two questions that hold her mind in dominance right now and that is first, who is she, and second, why does she weep?

She has no idea what she's going to say, but when her mind wills her feet to approach the girl, she gladly follows.

She knows she's close to her.

"Hello," is the only word she conjures once she knew there was no point of backing away.

She didn't resist her weeping state because she knew she has a soft heart to sad children, she takes one of her white handkerchief and willingly hands it to her. "Here," is what she says.

The girl looks shy under her presence. She hesitates to take the thin clothing from her at first, but she ends up taking it from her when she feels like she's not budging at the pain her arm gives her for stretching it since ten seconds ago.

Nicole broke her voice when she begins to speak. "Would you mind if I ask you why you're crying?" She made sure her question was politely heard.

She doubts if she's going to get an answer she's wanting to know. But only the sound of the crickets is enough response she gets to will herself to go back to her room and mind her own business.

She takes a step back, dismissing herself. "You can just keep the handkerchief," she glances back at her before taking another step.

"Hey wait." The crying girl stops her by finally acknowledging her. Nicole stops and waits for her to speak up again.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to ignore you like that." She says, her voice filled with guilt.

"No pressure. I wasn't expecting for an answer in the first place. So,"

Before she could even speak again, the girl asks her where she was going.

She looks at the pile of her clothes in her hand before she aims her stare at the girl. "I'm just bringing these fresh clothes to my room and off again to the President's room." She giddily tells.

The girl's eyes rounded upon hearing the mention of the President, which to her full recognition, is her father.

"What does my father want from you?"

Nicole's heart skips a bit at the sudden knowledge she discovers. "He is your father?" She asks to confirm.

The girl nods right away in response.

"I do not know. I was just called all of a sudden, but hey, I don't usually go there." She defenses.

The girl studies her from head to toe now that she finally begins to answer her confusion mentally, one by one.

"I just came there." The girl said.

"Really? So why are you crying? Did you get beaten?" Nicole's mind continues to pour out chains of worries. She knows she is not in the right place to ask, but her curious mind seems unable to stop itself from forming questions she'd like to know to further collect and form her own impression of the President.

"No. I'm crying because my father criticizes me in front of his visitors, he always does, he always makes me dumb in front of other people."

Nicole knows where the girl is coming from just by sensing the emotion that resides in the tone of her voice and the structure of her expression.