Her Mate

Chapter Three:

After remaining on the floor for another half an hour and then spending another hour patching myself up and cleaning the kitchen, I look at my watch for the time. 1:17. Fucking hell. I have less than three hours before the guests come and I still have to clean the office and four bedrooms, and I'm limping as a result of the beating, causing me to go slower than usual. I hastily headed up the stairs to the third floor, where the guestrooms are and started cleaning the rooms. First the beds, then wiping down the closets so that there is no dust on the shelves, washing the bathroom floors and vacuuming the rugs in all rooms. I've been doing this for years so it little time, even with my injuries.

I then moved on to the office.  My father's office is a mess. He loves this place, and is always here. His inability to be in the same room as me for more than a couple minutes means I rarely clean here, unlike the rest of the rooms in the pack house. Everything and anything is scattered around. There is so much paperwork on the desk, and I can't even see the floor. The whole room smells like pickles and death. After opening the windows to ventilate the smell, I start picking things up off the floor, filing documents and organizing the desk; and when I could see the floor, started vacuuming it too. Finishing up, I took a look at the time. 3:52. I finished right on time.

Patting myself on the back for succeeding and avoiding another beating, I make my way down the stairs leisurely, and made my way to the kitchen. Raiding the fridge and pantry for my ingredients, I start making my favorite dish to make, Pasta Carbonara, an Italian pasta dish made with egg, hard cheese, cream and bacon. My mom was Italian, and taught me the recipe when I was a tiny seven-year-old fascinated by everything she says and does. She was my idol and I always looked up to her. Since then I have made it enough times I know the recipe by heart so I make it in record timing. Taking a small plastic plate and filling it with a bit of the pasta I cover the pan and leave it for the others, and hurriedly leave for my room, just as I hear a knock on the front door and see a pack member get up from the launge to open it.

Sitting down on the floor to my room I finish the delicious meal I have prepared. I throw out the plastic plate, destroying the evidence of my meal, and take deep breath and look around my room, relaxing for the first time today. Inside these four walls is my safe haven. The old grey walls are bare of photos or paintings but full of cracks letting in the cold night air from outside, the only furnisher in the room is an old mattress and tiny cabinet, holding my minimal amount of clothes and a few pictures of me and my mom.

Taking another deep breath I try not to think about her, the bare thought of her causing a familiar agonizing pain in my chest. I miss her. A tear escapes my eyes and I quickly wipe it away, wash my face and immediately jump of the mattress to change into my workout clothes rapidly.

I like to keeping myself occupied, that way I don't have time to think out it, about her.

So I throw myself into my workout and practicing my fighting techniques. By no time I am sweating and heaving, leaving any thoughts of my mother pushed back, yet again, to the back of my mind.

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Hellooooooo

Hope you enjoyed the third chapter let me know what you think! ❤️

Please SHARE-VOTE-COMMENT-ALL THAT STUFF

I was thinking of doing this thing I am calling:
"Question of The Chapter" where I ask you a question at the end of each chapter just to get to know the lot of you better :)

So.....

Question of The Chapter :

Do you like cheese?

love ya (;

nina holas