Not Since Then

MIRA

I have seen and experienced a lot of unusual things in my life. But this was a whole different level.

I almost killed this girl. And she’s laughing.

She looks like a mentally unstable person, that is a psychopath. I looked at her hands. They were covered with blood and...... glass pieces. This kid is crazy. The sensible thing to do was to mind my own business and leave.

“What? You’re not okay? Of course you’re not okay! There's blood in your hands!” I rambled. I was getting scared. She wasn’t responding.
“I’m fine.” She said in a dry voice.

“What the hell happened to your hands?” Why am I asking her all these questions. I should leave. But I just... can't.

“Oh that.” I knew she was going to lie.

“Let’s go. Let’s get your hands bandaged.” The words came out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

I walked towards my motorcycle and got on. I gestured for her to get on. She walked over and stared at me blankly.

“Get on already!” I said.

She got on, legs dangling from either side. “You ready?” I asked.

“Yeah.” She said quietly.

I gave her my helmet. I couldn’t help but care for her safety. It was instinctive.

“You?” She asked. I turned to look at her face. She was really pretty, in a goth sort of way.

“Nice to know that you care, but I don't need a helmet.” I grinned at her.

By the time we reached my apartment, I was pretty sure that she was asleep. Her arms were wound around me, tightly.

“Get off kid. We're here!” I said, shaking her awake.

She blinked. Then quickly withdrew from me.

“I-I....... I’m so-sorry..” She started to stammer.

“It's fine, kid. You’re probably tired as hell. Hell, I almost ran over you!” She added, “But it would be nice if you got off.”

“Oh. Yes of course.” She said. I got off and took the key.

I started walking towards the building. She was standing there looking at the it in awe. I guess it was big.

“You coming or what?” I asked her. I extended my hand. She hesitated, then took it.

I walked inside the building with the girl. I didn’t even know her name. But I felt like I could trust her. But there was something affecting her. She looked so....... broken. She looked like mom did. Before.

I got into the lift and pressed the button for the sixth floor. We went up. I looked and saw the girl staring at our hands in amazement. It seems like she was extremely surprised that I was touching her.

She looked familiar. Really familiar. I looked at the mirror in the lift. Standing near to her like this, I could see very clearly that she was severely malnourished. Where does she live? Does she live alone? What about her family? Where was she from since she obviously isn’t an Arab? What was she doing out there at night? How did her hand get cut?

And why isn’t she showing any pain?

What’s her name?

I had so many questions but I can’t crash them all on her and freak her out. I have to be patient.

I had no idea why, but I was feeling strangely protective of this unknown girl. Who was really familiar.

When she fell asleep on the bike, I felt a strange sense of accomplishment. Like I had gotten her to trust me. Everything about her intrigued me.

She doesn’t talk much. It doesn’t take a genius to know that. She didn't tell me anything. I would have thought that she would tell me where she live but she came with me. A total stranger. A stranger riding a bike who almost killed her. And she came with me.

She had a weird trust. Its like she doesn't care about what happens. Like she doesn’t feel fear.

But when I told her to get on, she smiled. It was gone pretty fast, but it was there. And she looked beautiful. With a little bit of nutrition, she could be gorgeous.