Fairy tales are just that, fairy tales. Maya was no stranger to that fact; her life was more like a nightmare. Maya's life was no walk in the park, and it was one that most would consider tragic. She was born as a product of her mother's infidelity and had lived her entire life in the slums. For some reason, her mother decided to keep her instead of giving her up. It was no secret to Maya that she was the child her father didn't want, the bastard, the inconvenience. Still, the truth was that Maya knew this from a very young age and understood exactly where her father stood on this, despite ever knowing who her father was until now.
It was raining. It was pouring down as Maya trudged back from the marketplace after buying something small for breakfast. She was all alone. For so many years, she walked these same streets. Each turn and corner felt the same. She no longer saw a world around her, no color, nothing new. The only thing that existed to Maya was getting through her day, from A to B and back. Her life revolved around survival. Her clothes were faded and well-worn, hanging from her delicate frame, and her hands were rough, calloused, and stained from a lifetime of work.
When she reached her small home, her stomach was in knots. Standing outside her home stood three people, a man in a suit and his two goons, who Maya immediately noticed looked out of place. She had an inkling of who the man was but refused to make a conclusion because of how absurd and unlikely such a thing would be. She didn't feel welcome, their cold, unfeeling glares penetrating and judging her under the cloudy morning sky.
She dropped the bag filled with goods and stopped just before the stairs leading to the front door. Tightening her fists until she felt the nails dig deep into her flesh, she swallowed the lump of bitterness in the back of her throat. "She's dead. So you can stop coming here. I'm not giving you any money," she said sharply, glaring back at them, refusing to show the fear bubbling in her gut.
The older man just stared at her in response. He scoffed quietly before speaking. "How did she pass?"
Maya's hand twitched at her side. She wasn't used to such nerve and almost wanted to reach for his tie and drag him down the flight of steps, but she contained herself. "A car accident," she said after a long moment. It happened on a day like this when rain came crashing down in heaving drops. It was a hit-and-run, and the culprit was never found. Not that Maya had expected the cops to do much of anything anyway, since to them, they were just poor trash who were better off six feet under.
The man nodded in acknowledgment, took out a wad of cash, and extended his arm, his cold eyes unfeeling and unaffected. "My condolences."
Taking the money in a split second was probably the best decision. The smarter choice. But when Maya approached him, she slapped the money out of his hand, scattering a dozen bills through the pouring rain. "I don't need your money. Who even are you?"
His eyes widened at her disrespect before his lips curled into a menacing smile. His two subordinates behind him moved forward but stopped once he held up his arm. He pulled out a card containing his contact information, extending it for Maya to take, but the card's edge was wet. She was hesitant in her approach and didn't touch the card. Instead, her eyes flickered between it and him suspiciously. "Take it." The simple demand left Maya gritting her teeth and reaching out to retrieve it, shoving it into the front pocket of her ragged jeans.
With that, the man walked off down the street, and his men followed. He left without a glance or a parting word.
"Hey," she uttered quietly. "Hey!" She stomped her foot down in aggravation as they refused to acknowledge her and continued disappearing into a car. "Bastards," she huffed, pulling the wet hair clinging to her face behind her ear before rushing into her house.
She barged into the living room to see a man sitting in front of the fireplace. Drip, drip, the sound of water drops echoed as the man waited patiently. Maya had no clue who the mysterious person was, but several assumptions were going through her head, and none of them made her feel at ease. She screamed and hit him with the bag of fish. The fish slipped out, the man not doing or saying anything but reaching for her wrist. Maya dropped the bag after a few good smacks before pulling her arm away from the man and backing away slowly to the door. "Who are you?!"
He had no expression, and Maya assumed the worst. She had heard things growing up. Heard about what happened to women in places like hers. Raped and disposed of when no longer wanted. Her whole body shook from head to toe, waiting for his next move. Waiting for the worst possible outcome.
"I'm your bodyguard."