Predestined

Matthew is a broken man and his ending is already predestined.

Prologue

In hindsight, I should’ve probably thought about things before I pulled the trigger, should have thought about the repercussions and the damage that would be caused. Instead, I had reached for my forty-five tucked into my waistband, the small object pushing against my back like it was telling me it wanted to be used, and use it I did.

My face had remained expressionless as I had stared into the lifeless eyes but my hand shook with the effort of remaining calm. The life before me was so pathetic, so ruined that it could barely be called a life. I figured I was doing them a favour by ending the miserable existence they called living. Leaving my emotions behind, I felt nothing as I pulled the trigger, hearing the bang and watching the bullet drill into the forehead of the sobbing male.

He crumpled, eyes still open as the blood dripped from the open wound. Lowering my weapon, I breathed out a silent sigh of relief, for it was done, it was over. Now, I could go on with my life, I could forget all about this and move on. I tucked my gun back into my jeans, hiding it with my oversized shirt.

My eyes scanned the dingy room, checking for any signs that would point in my direction. Nothing was amiss and the room was so dirty, I doubted anyone would be able to find anything here. Plus, no one knew where the male was, so it would be days before the body was even found.

I left just as quietly as I had arrived, stealing into the night like some kind of serial killer. Is that what you’re thinking? Don’t misunderstand, this was my first kill and it would be my last. Walking back to my small apartment, I only allowed myself to take a breath when I safe behind my locked door, the gun now resting on my bed.

Sliding down the wall, I stared at the tiny object that held so much power. When it had been given to me, it was just for protection, just to scare and never actually harm. If only they knew, they would be ashamed of me and feel guilty for giving it to me in the first place.

They would never know, for I would never tell. I would bury it, much like I did with everything else. I was used to it and I was good at it.

Staring at the gun resting on my bed, my mind went back to the beginning, thinking of what had started this all, of how I had ended up in this situation. If I had known back then what I know now, if I had known I would end up killing a man in cold blood, I’d have ran, I’d have never gotten involved.

That was a lie.

I wouldn’t have changed anything, except the ending. It wouldn’t have ended like this if I had just stopped being a coward and told the truth. This was all my doing, no one else’s. The blame was on me, the blood was on my hands.

It wasn’t supposed to end this way.

One

Let me tell you something about life. It sucks and if you are one of those people who say corny things like ‘life is a gift’ or some s**t, you’re one of those people I despise.

Life had not been kind to me. Being abandoned on the doorstep of an orphanage had a way of sticking with you for life. I was a mere baby, only three months old, only wrapped up in a blanket that did nothing to keep out the ice of the winter air. I had been found the morning after, almost frozen to death. My fingers and toes still hurt whenever the weather got too cold.

I knew nothing of my b***h of a mother who had left me, not even her name and she had not even named me. It was like I didn’t exist and I often found myself wishing that were the case. If I could just be erased from the world, it would be easier, for everyone.

I was bounced from foster home to foster home, the parents never lasting more than six months. After the tenth couple had sent me back, claiming I had been too much to handle, my carers had given up and left me to rot at the back of the group whenever couples would come to choose whom to adopt.

From a young age, I had come to detest adults, for none of them were trustworthy. These smiling couples who simply wanted a child to love, they were lying. They wanted a child just until they could have their own babies, then they would send the grown one away, not caring where they would end up or what the abandonment would do to them.

I had seen many a young life taken away. Girls and boys alike, leaving with a wide grin in the shiny car of the adults, only to return a few months later, maybe even a couple of years if they were lucky, coming back to the orphanage to repeat the process.

Rejection isn’t something anyone wants to go through, and to go through it repeatedly, isn’t that too cruel of a fate for anyone?

I had been in the orphanage longer than anyone else. I grew up inside the grey walls, the cold structure of the adults bearing down on my young shoulders and turning me into a small Damien, at least, that’s what they called me. I had found the name rather funny and had used it to my advantage. Kids and adults alike were scared of me and it made me smile whenever a child would pee in their pants, or an adult would flinch if I got to close.

I finally got adopted again when I was thirteen and I was shipped off to live with a couple who really shouldn’t have been allowed to adopt in the first place. The two fought like crazy, their fights violent and sometimes getting me in involved. It taught me to be tough, to never take any s**t from anyone and it had served me well, considering the life I had ended up living.

I went through my young life never having any love, never any comfort when I was afraid or hurt. There were no soft arms circling me, no broad chest for me to cry against. I was left to fend for myself and I found that it suited me.

My foster parents were barely home, sometimes leaving me for days at a time, with barely enough food to keep me going. I was malnourished and neglected, my body so thin it was tough for me to do anything without gaining a bruise.

I had roamed the streets, for school was never my strong suit, so I ditched and walked around the city, sometimes getting into a lot of trouble. It was a almost a daily occurrence for me to run into a burly male who tried to show off to his friends by beating up the tiny boy who couldn’t defend himself.

It was on a particular bad day that I’d been left in the gutter, bleeding from several wounds when I had wanted my life to end. I had dragged myself to the bridge, overlooking the dark waters that looked tempting. My eyes had been drawn to a figure who was standing ahead of me, a female considering the long black hair that was flowing in the wind and the white dress that was billowing around her bare legs and feet.

She had looked so sad, but so beautiful, I had forgotten about my own problems and approached her. She had glanced at me, her dark eyes piercing right through me and warming their way into my icy heart.

Eventually, she had climbed down off her perch and sat next to me. Not a word was spoken, but a bond was created in that moment and for the next several weeks, I returned to the embankment every evening and sat with the older girl who held the same sadness in her eyes as me.

If I had been older, or maybe a little more bright, I had noticed the bruises upon her pale skin, littering her body every time I saw her, only getting worse rather than better. After going for a week and the girl not showing up, I had felt another abandonment and my heart had hardened once again. People never stayed, they all left in one way or another.

It was three months later that I saw the dark haired girl one more time, but not at the embankment, on the TV.

‘.......police ventured into the home and found Mr.Fellow’s daughter, Melody, 16 years of age, dead at the scene. Police had been called to the home on numerous occasions for domestic violence. Miss Fellow’s had been beaten and it appeared she died of blunt force trauma to the head. Mr Fellow’s, 45, is being held in custody for the murder of his only daughter.....’

I had sat on my grubby sofa, cereal bowl spilt over the dirty floor and I had added to the mess, my vomit covering the sofa and floor, belly emptied of all contents. The guilt of Melody’s death followed me for years. If only I had been older and wiser, maybe stronger, I could’ve asked what was wrong and helped her. Instead, the girl had died a cruel death and I would never again see the beautiful female again.

That was the catalyst that had sent me spiralling out of control. I ran away from home, not that it really was a home to me and lived on the streets. I had taken odd jobs that I could find, scraping for scraps to help me survive. Living on the streets had toughened me up, building my body full of muscle and I was no longer a skinny kid who couldn’t defend himself.

I made a name for myself, a name that took me places and at the age of seventeen, I was already involved in a gang. I relied on drugs and booze to get me through the s**t they wanted me to do. I stopped feeling, my mind and body numb to anything remotely related to feelings. I told myself I was happy, that I was better off being a heartless s**t whom everyone feared than some chump who got walked over by those who viewed me to be lower than them.

By the time I’d hit eighteen, I was slowly dying. My body was giving out thanks to the dope and beer and I could no longer fight. I was tired and once again, I found myself craving my life to just end.

I returned to the bridge that I had steered away from since Melody had passed and climbed to the top. I was never a believer of fate, but at that moment, I thought it must’ve been the hands of a higher entity that had been guarding me from safety, for when I jumped, I survived.

I woke up in hospital three weeks later, learning I’d been in a coma and also lucky to be alive. My body was clean of all the drugs and alcohol in my system and for the first time in years, I truly felt sober and alive, for everything hurt and I allowed myself to feel, to cry real tears and beg for help.

I owed my life to one male, who was not a doctor, who was actually younger than me by a year. He had happened to be walking past the bridge that night, at exactly the right time when I had jumped and he had jumped in to save me.

Upon first meeting, I thought the male to be a pretentious a*****e who just wanted the glory of saving a lost soul, but as I got to know the kind male, he became a good friend, who I desperately needed.

Thankful to him, I took him up on his offer of help and help me he did. I moved into his small apartment and he helped me get clean, get a job and even enroll in a course, so I could eventually go back to university to study.

I felt like my life was back on track, that I could finally make something of myself and not be a disappointment. I’d soon learn that meeting the man who saved my life was indeed an act of fate, but it was a cruel twist that had fate laughing in my face rather than patting me gently on the back.

A year after I had almost ended my life, I guess you could say I was doing well at that point. I had enrolled into university to study music production and I was also working part time in a s****y cafe, but it actually paid well enough for me to live in my own place. I was still friends with Danny, the male who had saved my life and I often found myself back at his home whenever I felt the need for comfort.

I wouldn’t say anything in those times and Danny would stare at me with the kind blue eyes I had come to rely on. He never pushed me, but sometimes he’d ask me the question I just couldn’t answer, for I honestly didn’t know.

“Aren’t you getting better, Matthew?”

No, I guessed I wasn’t getting any better, but I just tried not to show it, especially to the male I owed my life to. I tried, I kept up with my job and my school work but I was drowning still, so I went back to the only thing I knew would numb me out. Thanks to being an underground rapper, I knew a lot of people who dealt, so getting s**t was easy and I was able to hide it from Danny.

I was spiralling, sleeping around with women and breaking hearts all over the place. Thanks to my pretty face, women found me attractive, so I was never short of willing females to warm me. None however, could get through my ice heart. I even raised a hand to them, sometimes going way too far, but it was just who I was made to be. Life had taught me to be tough, or get knocked down and I wasn’t about to let anyone knock me down again.

This continued until I was twenty-one and finally, Danny had had enough. I’d never seen the male get so riled up before and even his kind boyfriend couldn’t calm him down. He had screamed at me, his voice piercing through the dope in my system and leaving my head spinning.

“I can’t do this anymore, Matty.” He says. “You either get yourself help, or we’re done. I’m not going to watch as you slowly kill yourself.”

His voice and his words, for some reason, hit home and made me sober up quicker than any cup of coffee could. I stayed with Danny while I sobered up, the hardest three months of my life. At the end of it, I was battered and bruised, as was Danny and his boyfriend James, but our bond was thicker and I knew I had friends for life.

I stopped drinking, stopped smoking and stopped using. I made myself attend school and my job and I stayed clear from my old crew I used to hang with and all the girls who tried to get close.

I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again, I don’t believe in fate, I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason, but there were times in your life, that you really needed to stop and think about it, because surely, none of this could’ve happened without help from a higher force?

It had been a normal day, albeit a difficult one. Danny had invited me for dinner and I could never say no the male. Upon arriving, there was only one person whom I didn’t recognise.

A rather cute and dark haired female, sitting next to one of Danny’s friends that I had only saw occasionally.

She was introduced as his girlfriend and something about the female made me unable to look away from her. She was soft and definitely not the kind of girl I wanted to hang with. She looked the type who’d had a perfect life, with two loving parents and loads of friends.

Back then, I hadn’t been focused on anything, I was still numb to feelings but I was just better at handling it. If I had paid more attention to her, I’d have seen the glances she gave me, I’d have seen the flaws in her otherwise perfect attitude. She put up a good front, a good show that tricked everyone, including me, but if you looked close enough, you’d have seen the damage behind the fake smile.

You’d have seen the broken heart, the self-esteem issues, the cracks that covered her entire body that showed she was probably just as damaged as I was. Only, at the time, I hadn’t known it, but damn, I was I had noticed. Then, maybe it wouldn’t have turned out like it did. Meeting her was the beginning of a new life, a new life that was just as bad as my previous one and what would eventually become my downfall.

Two

The Basement, an apt name for a s****y club and yes, it really was a basement. Still, it had been the club I'd made myself well known in the rap scene and now, I was always a headlining act. When I had joined the gang, rapping was the thing to do, so I had done it just because I had been told to. Now though, I actually loved rapping and I was good at it. People actually asked me to perform and wanted to buy my mixtapes. 

As usual, my group of friends were here, or rather, Danny and his boyfriend James, were here with their friends. I knew them all by face, but don't ask me for any names, for I had no clue. They would sit in the same booth every time, drinking the same drinks and mostly talking about the same things, which I was glad about, for then I had never had to listen too closely.

I don't know what it was about that night that made everything change. It should've been the same and it was, except for one difference; her. She had arrived late, my eyes drawn to her figure as she walked through the crowd and I wasn't surprised when all eyes had turned to watch her as she passed, for she was rather enchanting. 

What was it about her that had me so enthralled? Maybe it was the shiny black hair, kept short to her shoulders. Maybe it was the curvy body, blaringly obvious in the tight black dress, maybe it was the thick lips, a pout upon them naturally. It was probably a combination of all of those, but what struck me most, was her eyes. 

Her hazel orbs were glistening with a dangerous intent, an almost amusing shine as she stalked through the crowd of onlookers, like she found it funny that all eyes were upon her. Those eyes were bright and even before they landed on me, I was enraptured and wanted to drown in them. 

As she had approached the table, her boyfriend stood up and pulled her into his arms, but as he had focused all of his attention on her, she had looked over his shoulder, staring right at me. Thinking back on it, I should've looked away, I should've broken the eye contact, but I hadn't. That had been my first mistake.

I had stared back, something passing between us through our locked gaze. What that was though, I really didn't know, at least I didn't back then. At first, I thought maybe it was sexual tension, for she was definitely a looker and I wouldn't have minded sleeping with her, but afterwards, I had realised it was a bond. 

I should've noticed in that moment that she was like me, broken and lost. The connection had broken as she had sat and began conversing, but I was still staring at her. Through the rest of the evening, I had focused solely upon her and it wasn't like me. If anyone noticed, they hadn't said anything and maybe I wished they had done. Maybe a scolding for staring at a taken female would've stopped it, but it didn't.

The bar had been full, too full in my opinion. I had stood at the bar, my back to the crowd in hopes that it would dissuade any form of conversation. 

I had felt her presence before I'd heard her voice and as I had turned, she was so close to me, those hazel orbs locked on me and something akin to curiosity swimming within them. 

"Matthew, right?"

That sweet voice, a voice I would forever remember in my dreams, for many reasons, both good and bad. For the first time, I hadn't been able to speak, so I had just nodded and she had smiled, a real smile, full of teeth of happiness.

"Who might you be?" I could finally ask.

"I'm Miracle." She laughed, clearly her own name was amusing to her. "So, I heard you're the best rapper in the game?" She had smirked like this knowledge was pleasing to her.

That had got me to crack a smile. "Oh yeah?"

"Is it true?" She grinned. "You look too soft to me."

"Soft?" I raised an eyebrow. "Then you're not looking hard enough."

Flirting was a mistake, but I had done it anyway. The conversation had been light, nothing of ourselves revealed to each other, but I had been intrigued anyway and from the light in her eyes as she had looked at me, she had been too. Maybe that was our biggest mistake, being so intrigued by each other, but even if I had known how it would end for us, I would've done it anyway and I'd like to think that she would've too.

That first conversation had been etched into my memory and as I looked back, I tried my best to see her real personality. Nothing jumped out at me, she knew how to play people and for a while, she had fooled me. The only thing that gave her away was her eyes and even then, she was a good actress, hiding her real self well.

"What's your story then?" I asked, eyes locked onto hers, willing her to tell me everything.

As she stared back, her mask had slipped for the briefest of seconds, something like hopelessness showing, but then she had smiled, that hint of danger back. "It's rather dull."

I didn't believe her and by her smile, she knew she had me hooked. I wondered what her game was. She had a boyfriend and yet, she spent the night with me at the bar, talking about nothing and when the time had come for us to say goodbye, I hadn't wanted to. She had stepped close, her eyes bright and intense, her hand landing gently on my own. "Goodbye, Matthew." She whispered. 

"Goodbye, Miracle." 

I had watched her leave, her boyfriend taking her hand and steering her out of the door, not even looking back at me. I had left with Danny and James, not hearing a word they were saying, as my mind was focused on Miracle.

I'd only met her twice and I already wanted her like mad, but surprisingly, I didn't just want to sleep with her. I wanted to know her, all of her and I knew myself well, it didn't matter if someone were to get in my way. When I wanted something, or someone, I went after it and I got it. 

I guess it was that first conversation that was the beginning of our story, only at the time, neither of us had a way of knowing how badly it would end. Her name may have been Miracle, but she had been my curse. 

Strangely enough, after that meeting, Miracle began appearing in my life more often, sometimes even without her boyfriend. Still, even when she was with her boyfriend, who was far too plain to be with her in my opinion, she had always locked gazes with me and I knew right away that she wanted me. If she would've just asked, she could've had me.

We hadn't spoken since that night in the club, but as I saw her more, I began to notice little things about her. For example, as her boyfriend would speak to her, his eyes brimming with love, she would look bored, her gaze locked on him, but her eyes dull. It made me wonder what she was doing with him, when she didn't appear to be in love, as he was.

Over time, those eyes were all I could focus on, until I could finally read what was within them. I saw unhappiness, a broken smile that she hid rather well, but it was becoming clearer to me. I wanted to ask, to know what kind of life she had lived to make her so broken and so unfeeling.

It was the first time I'd ever seen that look in someone else other than myself. She was slowly dying, just like I was and surprisingly, I wanted to save her, or at least try to anyway, but I soon figured out that she didn't want saving.

After a rather gruelling day at work, I had walked back to my small apartment, the walk seeming to take longer than usual. It was one of those days where I craved something to numb me out, but like I always did, I thought of Danny and James, my two friends who had worked so hard to help me and I couldn't, no, I wouldn't let them down.

My building was rather old and run down, but it was cheap and it was better than the hovel I had used to live in and it was also better than living on the streets. Still, it wasn't ever a surprise to hear couples fighting or to see dealers parked out the front. It was a surprise however, to see Miracle talking to one of those dealers. 

I had paused mid step, staring at the girl in surprise. She didn't look like the type to use, but then again, not all who used did look like the type and I had learnt that the hard way. As she took a packet off the hidden driver and stepped away, she turned and finally, noticed me. She froze, her eyes widening in horror.

After a minute of staring at each other, she sighed, probably thinking I would snitch on her, but I was no snitch. I carried on walking, pulling my keys out of my pocket. 

"Come on." I had thrown over my shoulder as I had walked past her.

Surprisingly, she hadn't even argued and had followed me into my apartment, looking very uncomfortable. When we were both seated at the kitchen table, coffees in front of us, I had looked at her closely and found that she was no longer wearing her false smile. The girl in front of me was the real Miracle, the broken Miracle, who probably needed more help than she thought. If she was using, it wasn't going to end well.

"How long you been using?"

Miracle sighed, fiddling with her hands. "A few months."

"Are you stupid?" 

The girl looked up, eyes blazing in anger. "Who are you to lecture me? You think I don't know who you are? I know all about you, so you are the last person I would take advice from."

"If you know who I am, then you know what I've been through, at least some of it." I replied gently. "I can help you."

"What makes you think I want your help?"

"You're here aren't you?"

She sighed, shoulders deflating like she'd been defeated. 

"Come to me." I half whispered. "When you feel the need to use, come to me. I'll always be here."

Through locked gazes, Miracle looked younger than she appeared, her eyes wide in fear and yes, I could see that she'd basically already given up the fight, but there was something in her that wanted to fight, wanted to live and I figured I could help bring it out in her.

"Give me your stuff." I ordered.

She'd basically thrown it at me and as I had flushed it, she had sat with her eyes closed, her head in her hands. We had sat for what felt like hours, but it wasn't even close to one in reality. She hadn't spoken another word and neither had I. I half expected her to just use again, but chose another dealer who wasn't near this part of town. I hoped that didn't happen, for her sake. 

Using was never a good way out, it numbed you out for a while, but the pain always came back and it returned stronger every single time until you used more and more to stop yourself from feeling, which is how most ended up overdosing. 

I didn't want that for her and once again I was questioning why I even cared. I didn't know the girl, she wasn't my responsibility, but the more I told myself that, the more my inner monologue laughed and told me to stop denying it. 

I didn't know what that meant, at least, I hadn't back then. Now, I'd have understood that it was my conscience not wanting another young girls death on my shoulders. Miracle wasn't like Melody, her situation was different, but she needed help all the same and this time, I could do something about it. I could help her and I'd already promised myself and her that I would. 

Three

Miracle had suddenly became a huge part of my life. She began to show up at my apartment near enough every night. It wasn't a rarity for me to go home and see her sitting outside my door. She never said anything, so words were ever exchanged between us, but it seemed to suit us. She would lounge on my bed or the sofa, as I worked on music and I found myself loving having her near.

She was my muse and her presence was calming to me. I'd often look at her as she was reading or drifting to sleep. She was beautiful, naturally so, but you couldn't deny the damage that showed clearly in her face when we were alone. She hid it well around others, but I found I liked the fact she only showed her true self to me. To be honest, she probably saw the same thing in me, so she trusted me.

Although, she still wouldn't tell me anything about herself. In the brief times she would talk to me, I had learnt that she was in fact older than me by a couple of years, even though she looked like a little kid, which I often teased her for. The more time we spent together, the more I grew fond of her. If I'd have known at the time how badly things would go wrong for us, I'd have held her in my arms and told her how I felt.

A few weeks after Miracle began coming to my apartment came the day that I always dreaded, even though it had been years; Melody's anniversary. Every year on the day she died, I would go to her grave, lay some flowers and tell her about my life. Usually, Miracle would be at my apartment as soon as I arrived back from work, but I didn't dwell on the girl as I went straight to Melody's grave.

Walking through a graveyard may seem like a weird thing to do to some people, but for me, I loved the sense of calm and relaxation it brought to me. It was like time stood still here and I guessed it did, for time had no meaning to the people who would remain here forever. As I passed numerous tombstones, I read the names and wondered who all of those people were, what kind of life they had lived, if they were happy and ultimately, how they died. What stories they could tell, if only they could be heard.

Melody's grave was simple, a tombstone with simply her name and dates, no special mentions of what a great daughter she had been, which made me sad and angry for a lot of reasons. As always when I visited her, I thought back on the girl who had made such a big impact on me. 

That thought was funny to me, as I'd never even heard her speak. When she had died, I'd imagined her so many times, her look and dress still the same, but the voice, it was all in my head of what I'd thought she'd sound like. My imagination was always the same, her voice was soft and sweet, almost loving like a mothers would be. I had no clue if that was what mothers sounded like, as I'd never had one and my step mother had just shouted all the time.

Still, the imaginary version of her had calmed me on a many a dark day and she still did, just not as often anymore. Now thinking of Melody, it made me realise that I hadn't thought of her since Miracle had entered my life, which made me feel guilty. Although, Melody never really knew me, she probably didn't even think of me as I had thought of her. 

Sometimes, I would look at Miracle and try to see Melody within her, but even though they shared the same look in their eyes, they shared no other similarities. They were perhaps too different, Melody had been soft and weak, whereas Miracle, even though broken, was tough and was definitely not weak. 

As I laid the pretty rose next to the grave, my eyes teared up for the girl who had died far too young and far too horribly. How she must have suffered, I didn't want to think about. I stood at the grave for hours, the sky now pitch black, like even the stars themselves didn't like graveyards. When I began to feel the chill embedded into my bones, I turned away and began the walk home. 

One small thing it may have seemed, but to another, it was a huge mistake and I would soon learn that going to Melody's grave that day would cause a ripple effect that only served in making things worse.

In the two weeks that followed Melody's anniversary, I didn't see Miracle at all. She had stopped showing up to my apartment and the number she had gave me was disconnected. It made me worry about her, but I knew nothing about the girl that would help me in locating her. I didn't know where she lived, or where she worked. I didn't want to have to do it, but I had no choice.

Danny had been perplexed as to why I had been looking for his friends girlfriend, but had believed my lie of wanting to return something to her. He hadn't asked what that was and I was grateful. He'd given me the location of her work place, which was actually only a couple of blocks from my apartment. I was surprised that she worked in a cafe, it just didn't suit her somehow. 

Still, I found myself sitting inside the warm interior, my eyes on the look out for the tiny girl with black hair. She finally showed after three hours of waiting, immediately going behind the counter and tying a black apron around her waist. I sat in silence, simply observing. Miracle looked different.

Her black hair that usually cascaded over her shoulders was tied up in a ponytail, showing her pretty face and beautiful eyes even more. Her clothing style was normally girly, skirts and dresses and nice shoes, but now, she was in tight black trousers and a white blouse and I found the look to suit her better.

She looked like what a normal girl in her twenties would look like, grown up and yes, happy. She smiled at all the customers, all of them seeming to know her by name and chatting to her in a friendly manner. This Miracle seemed happier, she smiled, she laughed and it even reached her eyes, for they were sparkling, not with the usual danger or amusement, but just pure happiness and it looked great on her. She was always beautiful, but for the first time, she made me lose my breath with how much of a natural beauty she actually was. 

It took her a while to notice me and when she died, she almost dropped the coffee pot she was holding, but she managed to catch it. She did not look happy to see me and as she began to walk over to my table, I actually shrank back with the anger that was in her eyes.

"What are you doing here?" She snapped, voice low so no one could overhear us.

"Where have you been lately?" I asked, ignoring her question. "I haven't seen you for a while."

"What, you actually care?"

I frowned, not understanding why she suddenly thought I didn't care. "Of course I do."

Miracle shook her head. "You're an a*****e." She barked, backing away from me.

I sat for a moment, looking back to see if I had offended her in some way, but I was coming up empty. Standing up, I followed her, not caring that she disappeared into the back through a door marked for staff only. She span around, eyes spitting fire.

"Get out."

"What is with you?" I half shouted, beginning to get annoyed.

Her hands shot out, pushing me back harshly. "You weren't there." She screamed, eyes filling with tears. "You said you'd always be there, but you weren't."

My temper immediately deflated, my mind going back to the night I had visited Melody's grave. I had gotten home later than usual and Miracle wasn't there. She must've been waiting for me, like she always did and unknowingly, I had left her there, alone.

"I thought you were different," Her voice cut through my thoughts. "but, you're just like them. You make false promises."

"Miracle, I'm sorry." I said loudly. "I was late, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Her hazel eyes narrowed, suspicion and mistrust clearly within them. "You can't promise me that."

"Yes, I can." I took her hands within my own, holding onto her tightly, for I suddenly felt like she was slipping away from me. "I will always be there, I promise."

Her hands were shaking within my own and I realised how badly she had depended on me and I had let her down. 

"You didn't use did you?" I had to ask.

Her silence was enough of an answer and I sighed, feeling responsible. 

"I'm so sorry, I promise you, it won't happen again. I'll be there, always."

Miracle sighed, looking so vulnerable and small and my protective side came out in full force. I pulled her into my arms, ignoring her struggles. After a moment, she melted into me, sobbing silently into my chest. The girl in my arms was suddenly all I could think about, I could see and all I could focus on. 

I promised I would never let her down again, but I didn't keep that promise and in the end, that was where it all went wrong.