His Lost Flower

Chapter 1- Meet Myla

Danielle Campbell as Myla above

Mylah's pov

Running is what I'm good at and not the physical kind. I've been on the run for almost 2 years.
I'm currently living in an apartment in New York city with my friends Mackenzie and Lewis. I met Lewis at the job I'm currently working at. He owns a bar and he hired me to bartend. Long story short. He caught me sleeping outside the bar one night in a shady alley. I had no money and no where to go. Lewis offered me a job and took me into his home no questions. I owe him my life he saved me.

I've been here for six months now and I can't help but feel anxious. I know I can't stay here much longer, its just an amount of time before he finds me. I see his face every where and its hard to tell what's real anymore, his still holds so much power over me.

I grew up in a town called Yorkshire back in England. My parents died when I was 16 in a car accident, a drunk driver in a truck fell asleep at the wheel and took their car out. I have no other family so its just me myself and I.

The only reason I won't shutdown and give up is because of my parents. They taught me to never give up no matter how tough it is, as my dad would say "there is always light at the end of the tunnel". I had a very long and dark tunnel. I wasn't sure if there would be light at the end in my case.

As far as anyone is concerned my name is Myla James and I'm a 26 year old bartender who has moved to New York for a fresh start . Myla James has made her self a rather comfortable life here in New York city. Myla Scott no longer exists that girl died the moment she left England.

___________________________

Beep Beep Beep.

I rolled over and switched my alarm off. Its 6pm and I'm working the late shift tonight at the bar. I start at 9.30 and will be working till close which is usually until 6am unless it empties out earlier which it probably won't being a Friday night.

I rolled out of bed and grabbed my work clothes. I picked my black high waisted shorts and my plain white singlet to wear tonight. The more skin you show the higher the tips. It's as simple as that.

I left my room with my clothes in hand and walked down the hall to the bathroom.

I turned the shower on and jumped in, I decided I'll wash my hair and just put it up in a bun tonight having such thick hair can be a real bitch to dry. I hopped out of the shower and got changed into my work clothes, I can't wait for this shift to be over so I can go home and sleep. Well if I can call it sleep. Every night I am haunted by the same cruel face.

As I was applying my make up I looked at the scar on the top right of my forehead. I shivered at the memory of how I got it.

2 YEARS AGO

I had locked myself into the bathroom and was crouched down on the floor with my head in my hands. Maybe if I pretend I'm not here he'll go away. I could hear him smashing apart the furniture and screaming not that I could make out words. He was beyond pissed, I should of been more careful.

I had to tried to escape from him tonight and I failed miserably. I thought that once he was passed out from drinking himself stupid I could sneak out in the night. I couldn't of been more wrong, I wasn't aware of it at the time but he had alarms installed into the house so as soon as I had opened the front door the alarm system went off and he woke up.

I have really screwed up this time, this is his number 1 rule and I just broke it. I can hear his cold voice in my head "You will never leave me and if you try I won't be to blame for what happens"

I heard foot steps approaching the bathroom door I knew he was coming for me. I sat up and leaned over the toilet and I couldn't stop the vomit from coming out. He makes me sick to my stomach literally he's a monster. I couldn't contain the way my body was shaking and if my heart could beat any faster I'd be sure to have a heart attack. I wiped my mouth and sat against the wall it was silent, to silent.