Chapter 1: Rock bottom
Miracle's POV
When I was five years old my brother, Xavier and I were attacked by a group of rogue wolves and my father, the hybrid prince was given a choice - Save my brother or save me.
He chose my brother and I was taken.
Dad was sorry.
it was an impossible choice, he said.
It was a split second decision, he said.
He chose the child in imminent danger, he said.
I understood but it didn't negate the fact that he didn't chose me.
It was months till he was able to look me in the eyes....and he never forgave himself for it and boy! Could that mess up a child in ways that that was unexpected!
I knew it then and I know it now that if there was ever a choice between me or some else, I'm screwed.
I always get screwed!
I felt someone's hand on my face, it was trying to get me to open my eyes.
"Ira…open your eyes. Come on, open your eyes"
I knew that voice. I would know it anywhere.
That voice used to be sweet and it used to caressed gently like a doting mother.
Not anymore. That voice belonged to a backstabbing cheating bastard, who snuck out to the bathroom to screw his 'girl best' friend while I was sitting few seats away.
My eyelids fluttered and they opened right up, the first thing I saw was his devil blue eyes and the bridge of his broken nose.
I did that. I told myself.
His lips were curled and his eyes were cloudy just a little bit as he stared down on me intently.
"There you are, sweet thing. I thought I lost you there for a second" Steve's voice echoed.
I watched him. Steve Jackson, my boyfriend of two years. You couldn't believe what I sacrificed for him - my birthright as heir to the biggest empire and my family.
He has no idea who I really was. Not a single clue.
I tried to sit upright but the raging headache was a good motivator to sit still.
I blinked.
My lips were dry and I was very thirsty.
"I feel dizzy" I declared out loud.
"It was a nasty fall, Ira, you hit your head on the sink. The paramedics are on their way. I got the bleeding to stop, so that's good"
I stared at him. Images from a few minutes ago replaying in my head.
"I didn't hit my head because I was clumsy. You shoved me and I fell" I told him.
"Sorry" his voice was short and curt.
I realized something. He wasn't sorry.
I was quiet. I stayed down and stayed quiet.
"We should talk, Ira"
"About what?" I asked him and pulled myself up, declining help from him.
"Are we to talk about how you left our anniversary dinner to come fuck best friend in the bathroom, Steve? Are we to talk about how you shove me to protect her or how I am on the floor bleeding to what I think is my death?"
When I talked about bleeding he looked aways briefly like he hadn't meant to hurt me... like it was unfortunate things got out of hands.
"Dunno" he whispered.
It was always one word answers with him…always a shrug, always an almost argument with him.
Why did I stay with him when it was clear he checked out a long time ago?
"Why her?" I asked him. "Is it because she's rich?"
I am rich. You have no idea how rich I am! I almost yell at him but didn't.
"It doesn't hurt that she is but it's because she doesn't need me…not like you do, Ira"
"MY NAME IS MIRACLE NOT IRA!" I screamed at him and it shook the entire restaurant.
My heart squeezed. I didn't let him see it though.
But needy?
That's a horrible word to hear from a man you spend two years of your life loving unconditionally.
It's not a word a girl wants to hear from a man she would gladly lay down her life for.
Needy…it's such a nasty word to say to a girl slowly bleeding out on a dirty bathroom floor
"Last month, when I was out of town and I phoned you numerous times and they all went to voicemail, were you with Lisa in our apartment?" I asked him.
"Yes" he answered bluntly.
I exhaled.
I felt the need…no, no I hate that word now, I felt the intense urge to be anywhere but here.
Anywhere but this moment watching the man I love answer questions that was potentially ruining my mental health with such ease that made puking very desirable right about now.
I watched him.
How was this easy for him?
I would go to hell and back…and I mean that literally before I hurt him the way he was hurting me right now.
I could never stand by idly while he was in pain without doing something to levitate that pain.
How many times did I put aside my heartache and my own pain to tend to his own?
Even now, all I can think about was how incredibly difficult it must be for him to stand there and answer all of these questions I was asking.
Even now, I am more worried about his feelings than my own.
What does that make me?
A fool perhaps?
A bloody joke of the biggest proportion.
An incredibly stupid buffoon with an incredible affinity for more fucking stupidity!
"How long? How long, Steve?" I asked him.
Maybe if I got more information, I would hate him.
I would hate him even if it was a little bit.
"Almost a year"
My breath caught in my throat. A year…a freaking year, are you kidding me!
Are you shitting me right now?!
This must be just an awful nightmare I am going to wake up from.
A year!
That's half of the time we were together.
Author's note:
A word For Miracle