[1] ALEXA, and her hell ✓ [Editing]

My Name's Not Alexa ✓

Evanescence, feat. Paul McCoy— Bring Me To Life
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"acceptance is the first step towards peace." —Lori Deschene
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The 13th of April, Year 2020.

     "Why... Am I... Here...?" Alessia asks, pacing herself, at which Petro's lips stretch into a thin smile.

     He rebuts with a question, "Do you know who you are?"

     The girl purses her chapped lips, staring at him blankly, an answer already at the tip of her tongue. "Of course..." She needs not to overthink to know what she is in her own eyes. "Nothing." She stares at him unblinkingly. "I... Should've just died... With my mother... I begged... And begged him... To kill me... But he..."

     "Shh, I understand." Petro cuts her out quickly, dragging a hand down his face and letting out a harsh breath. " There's your answer."

     Micheal laughs nervously beside him.

     "How...?" Her head tilts to the left, curious as to how he understands when he clearly just wanted her to stop talking. "I don't... Get it." Alessia is young, but she sure isn't stupid.

     "Alexa—"

     "Alessia..." She corrects him instantly with a small voice, yet it made him pause.

     He continues, "You're here, because in this establishment, I give kids like you a purpose."

     Alessia doesn't question him on anything else, automatically thinking, 'Whatever.' This is where life has lead her, the least she can do now is bare with it, until she eventually ceases to exist. She turns from both men and peers out the glass window.

     Petro who has been giving hand signals to Micheal, to browse information on Alessia Sterling so that he can read it later, clears his throat. "Basically, you and everyone else here belongs to me. This is my establishment, you follow my orders. Your reason will continue to change, but your purpose is to do as I say."

     "Okay."

     His eyebrows lift at her simplicity, before he huffs, "Good." Then, he rises from his seat and exits the room, slightly chilled from his first encounter with the girl. He tugs at the white collar of his undershirt, loosening a button for air as Micheal follows behind him like the tail he is.

     Petro wastes no time, sitting heavily in his office chair after entering his private space and he takes the tablet, scrolling through the gathered information on his newest student. Slowly, he takes in the news of the death of her mother and how it happened. He indulges in her years of abuse and neglect; years with her own parents, which soon became singular, and then, a year with that said parent's gangster ex-boyfriend who is in the process of leading his branch of Hispanic fools to their demise.

     Branch? Yes. Sebastian and his circle is merely a branch of a large Hispanic family called "Crows".

     Petro feels a heavy weight on his chest, putting the tablet aside. Thinking, his eyes jitter all over his office, before he pushes up and out of his chair, getting the need to personally train this little girl, plus she's already at the back of the class. He'd be doing her a favour.

     He barges into the room she's in, couped up in bed and she doesn't even jump. He feels the weight of her dead stare even though he can't see her eyes. Her face is shadowed and neutral, reminding him of an inescapable void. For a moment, he's trapped, faltering in his steps, before he clears his throat and adjusts his blazer.

     "Get up, Alexa," he states, "and come with me."

     "My name's not..."

     "Alexa." He states flatly. "That's what I'm going to call you from now on."

     Alessia sighs.

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