11. Mila

Chapter eleven

Mila

I lay on my new cot, staring up at the yellowing bulb dangling from the ceiling.

I wonder how long it has been since it got changed last?

This is stupid. They can't expect me to protect Oliver if I am sleeping all the way in the shed. I need to come into the house.

I understand their game.

They are treating me horribly so I give up and go home. But they have really no idea of what I am capable of. Of all the things that I had to do to pass my training.

I am prepared for this.

Besides, do they think I will give up that easily? I have always been a fighter. Even as a kid. I am too stubborn for my own good.

Then there's Dad. My poor, elderly dad who is sick and needs professional medical help.

Hell will freeze over before I let my dad suffer.

So, if I have to sleep in a shed and be treated like shit, so be it. I have been through worse.

Much, much worse.

My stomach rumbles, and I get up to make myself dinner. I have a tin of cold beans. Nice.

I never expected to be invited for dinner, but a warm meal would be pleasant.

I could always go out and hunt in the woods. It's dusk now, so plenty of rabbits will be out foraging.

However, it could be a while before I get my hands on a little cottontail, so cold beans it is.

I can hunt for rabbits tomorrow night. I could even set up some snares.

Just as I open my tin, I cut myself on my finger, hissing through my teeth.

My eyes search the shed fruitlessly for a first aid kit. In the end, I rip up my bedsheets and wrap the cloth around my cut finger.

I hope I don't get an infection.

Thunder sounds overhead, and my eyes find the small hole in the corner of the roof. Rain will get in, and I'll probably drown in my sleep.

Once I eat my beans, I fall down on the bed, thinking about my father.

What is he doing right now? Is he sitting down for his own supper? Has his new help arrived yet and are they making dinner for him?

Are they nice? Will they treat him right?

Damn, I miss him, and I can't help it now. The tears come.

It sucks that I can't be with him. I don't know how much time he has left on earth, but it can't be long.

I should be spending as much time with him as much as possible.

But I have to be here. I need to be able to afford to keep a roof over his head.

Even if my own one has holes in it.

Soon, I nod off, dreaming about my father.

His face is sad in the dream.