Mathew's POV
"What's the matter, Mira?" I asked softly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
She trembled slightly beneath my touch, but she didn't shrug it off. Her face was buried deep in her lap, her knees were pulled tightly to her chest and the picture was on her lap, like she was protecting something. Slowly, she looked up, blinking to stop more tears from falling. Her cheeks were stained with tears. She looked like she had been crying. Like he was in pain. My heart trembled to see her like this but before I could act she whispered hoarsely
"You shouldn't be here,"
I ignored her words and reached out, I wiped the tears off her pretty face. Her skin was warm, damp, and delicate. She looked beautiful, even in pain. I held her gaze, looking deep into her eyes, urging her to speak, without words. I had no idea why she was like this, or what caused her pains. But I wanted to know.
She just stared at me for a long moment like she was seeing something, or someone else. Suddenly she jerked, as if waking from a trance, she lifted her fingers hesitantly and traced the outline of my jaw. I shivered as she did that. Electricity that shot through my skin when she touched me.
"You have his eyes," she said suddenly, looking at the picture frame in her hands. Her hands brushed the glass, tracing it the same way she traced my face.
I blinked. "Wha… what do you mean?" I asked confused
She sniffled, tears swelling again in her eyes already red from swelling. "You have his blue eyes."
"Wh… who?" I asked. I didn't like the feeling rising from my stomach.
"My brother," she whispered. "You look just like my brother. See?" She turned the frame toward me.
There it was.
The photograph hit me like a punch to the gut. A smiling boy, eyes bright, arm around a little girl with the same ebony black straight hair as Mira. His eyes were unforgettable.
I could remember them. I feared that I knew those eyes. That it was the same from my past. The ones that my dreams.
Every night the picture was the same. He held my gaze silently. Pleading not to shoot.
"Where... where is your brother?" I asked, even though I already knew. My voice was shaky. My mind was racing.
"He's dead," she replied. "He died in California."
My heart stopped.
California.
I became lost in thought. My mind went to my past.
I remembered the ugly incident. When I took a boys life. He was innocent. He was just trying to warn us. But my gang members insisted we report the case to my father. They insisted that he had become a threat. That he needed to be eliminated.
I was seventeen when it all happened. There I was standing in behind the fence. Covered by shrubs, bushes and flowers, holding a gun I never wanted with trembling fingers. My mind clouded with fear and I was under pressure. I didn't want to do it. But I had to prove myself. My father ruled the organization. A large cartel syndicate that dealt drugs, arms and everything dangerous and illegal. It was my very first mission to kill. So I had to do it and make him proud.
Flashback
It was hot that fateful day. The sun was too bright, it made us sweat and thirsty. I remember the way the air smelled—like jasmine and asphalt. The bushes rustled, and through the leaves, I saw them. A boy and a girl playing tag. Laughing without a worry in this world. Their joy felt contagious.
It was him, Michael.
The one who had uncovered the operation, the one who threatened to report us. He warned that we must desist from selling drugs to underage students. I saw sense in what he was saying but i was in a gang. We must look out for each other. We are family and anything that pose as a threat must be eliminated
Come on, don't be a pussy they taunted me.
Do it. Prove to your father that you're a man
This is your first mission you must not fail
It was at that point that I decided to pull the trigger. To prove that I am a man.
My hands shook so badly I almost dropped the gun. I remember the girl—Mira—laughing and tugging her brother's arm. She looked up. Her eyes sparkled as she said something to her brother. She smiled.
But then I pulled the trigger.
Michael pushed her—shoved away with speed. It was like he saw the bullet coming. Them the bullet hit him, right in the chest.
He fell and she screamed.
Everything after that was a blur. The others ran. I stood frozen. The girl was crying, crawling toward her brother. My heart screamed at me to go help, to fix it. The last thing I could remember was seeing her covered in her brothers blood. Her eyes caught mine briefly before I took off. I ran like a coward
Now, here she was. Face to face with her brother's killer. In her eyes I could see the pain I caused. The wound I left behind. Her brother was gone forever. She would never get him back.
Above us, the walls gave a low rumbling sound. This building would give away any moment from now. I had to do something or else she might be hurt too.
"We should be here" I said when I finally found my voice. She didn't answer. A loud crack gave way above. The ceiling collapsed, crashing down on the staircase behind us.
"Mira, we need to leave!" I shouted, looking around for another way out since the staircase was blocked. But she didn't move. Her face was buried in her knees again, her shoulders shaking.
"Just leave," she whispered. "I don't want to see my therapist today. I want to actually feel my pain."
Her words broke me. She wasn't just sad. She was broken. She was giving up.
I dropped to my knees beside her. "Mira, you can cry on me. You can feel your pain whenever you're with me. I won't deprive you of that. You can scream, you can hate the world. But don't do this. Don't do this to yourself Please," I said, my voice cracking. "Please let me protect you. Let me make it right, let me save you."
I got no response. But there was no time. The walls were giving in ans even the ground was shaking. I needed to do something, but I couldn't. The building collapsed and we plunged down with it. Bricks, sticks, stones all came down on us. I needed to act fast or Mira would be in a very fatal accident.
I turned her around mid-air while wrapping my shoulders around her to cushion the fall. We but the ground hard but I landed on top of her shielding her from the rubble.
As we touched the floor, my lips brushed hers. For a second I could feel my heart stop. It felt like fire, sparks ignited lightning something in my heart. I felt a way I had never felt before.
I pulled back immediately, eyes wide open but she was unconscious. Her head had hit the floor and blood was seeping behind her head.
"Mira? Mira, please wake up."
I checked her pulse. It was there—weak, but steady. I breathed a sigh of relief that she was still alive.
Above us, wood snapped, durst rained down and flames sparked somewhere in the distance, probably from broken wiring. I was weak and wounded and coughing from the thick pile of smoke that came out from the top.
The building would go up in flames soon but thankfully, sirens wailed nearby. Maybe someone saw the collapse and called for help.
I couldn't move. My leg was pinned under a heavy piller. The pain was sharp, but I didn't care. All I could think about was Mira. I cradled her to my chest, whispering apologies.
"I'm sorry," I choked out, almost crying. "I'm so sorry, Mira. I did it. I did it but I didn't mean to. I was just a scared kid... I didn't want to hurt anyone."
I held her unconscious frame
"I see you every night. In my dreams. Laughing. And then screaming. I wanted to go back. I wanted to turn myself in. But I was too much of a coward."
The fire cane closer. My throat tightened. If this was how it ended, then at least I had told her—even if she didn't hear it.
But luck was still on our side.
Firefighters stormed the scene, axes breaking through the door. They found us just in time. Within minutes, we were being carried out on stretchers. Cameras flashed. News crews surrounded the scene.
I could barely keep my eyes open. The impact was beginning to take it till on me. I was fighting to be awake. To see Mira okay. Then I saw Mira stir. She didn't open her eyes but she moved her fingers. I sighed in relief. She was alive. I finally blacked out as I was carried in the stretcher to the ambulance. All I could think about is how I could be with her in the same school knowing what I did to her. Knowing how much I hurt her.