Outside the school gates, the noise faded.
West crouched down in front of Mira and gently inspected her scraped palm and elbow.
"Hold still," he said.
"I—I'm fine," Mira mumbled as her face burned red. "It's really nothing."
"You're bleeding," West replied matter-of-factly.
He pulled out a tissue, cleaned the scrape carefully, then pressed it lightly.
Mira stared at him the entire time.
"…Do you have a habit of not minding your business?" West asked suddenly.
She blinked. "A-Are you mad at me?"
"No," he said honestly. "But I would've preferred not to interfere."
Mira's composure cracked.
Tears welled up again, spilling over as she clutched the front of her uniform.
"My dad used to beat my mom," her voice broke as she said in a rush.
West froze.
"I was always too scared," words tumbled out as she continued. "I'd hide. I'd watch from the corner. I never did anything. Never said anything. And it kept happening… and happening…"
Her shoulders shook.
"And then she died."
