Miguel O'Hara x You | Silken Webs & Pirouettes

five

Oh, you're stupid. You're so, so horribly stupid. Be it for the fact that you talked back to your boss, didn't follow orders, the fact that you've been a liability twice now, oh no no- maybe the fact that you knowingly allowed yourself to get fired though you're in debt and really— you willingly walked out. Maybe it's all of that.

Or perhaps you wish it was all of that.

You tense as your finger hovers over the small triangle, afraid to press play on the glowing screen in your lap. It taunts you like the apple of Eden, dripping with droplets of temptation that render you curious. How much longer will you wait?

You press play without second thought, burying your face to hide away in your hands, only allowing your eyes to peek on behind your fingers.

"Good Evening John yes, breaking news this evening coming out of Nueva York. Infamous O'Hara Enterprises' CEO Miguel O'Hara's home was broken into late last night. Police say this occurred when Mr' O'Hara was out on business, but he soon returned home to find his housemaid and six-year-old little girl shot dead in his home."

The air thins.

Your body chills like it's been cased in the waters of the arctic, bile rising at your throat as the blonde newscaster continues. A part of you, a very strong part is just begging you to toss your phone across the room and forget this ever happened, you can't. You're struck frozen when you see his face on screen.

Christ.

He looks disheveled, lost, broken. So different from the man who belittled and questioned you in his leather throne.

"Mr. O'Hara!! Sir!! Do you have any idea who's responsible!?"

"Sir! Please just a word!!"

"Mr. O'Hara!! Mr O'Hara!!"

"Was it you!? Did you have your daughter killed!?!"

You gasp, eyes pooling with shameful tears and lip quivering as you watch on screen. The once composed man, towering over everyone in sight who crowds him, turns in fury.

That look.

You know that horrible look because he gave it to you.

He didn't grab you, though. Maybe he should have...

Mr. O'Hara... he looks like a man destroyed. You understand now that gaze beyond his anger when you mentioned his daughter. His daughter you very much thought was alive and well. Stupid you for not finding more time to fall down the rabbit hole.

You watch on screen as he grabs the newscaster by his collar and tugs him up off his feet like he weighs only but a feather. Panic ensues around him, his lawyer who wears red, round glasses and holds a metal cane is begging him to place the dangling idiot down. His jaw is tense, spitting inaudible words at him through clenched teeth. He tosses him down to the rough concrete eventually though, swiftly passing by the shocked crowd without another word once he does.

"Yes John as you can see in that short video, O'Hara's emotions were high this evening and he couldn't keep control of his temper..."

They flash one final picture at the end. It's him. He looks lively, human.. happy. His little girl looks so small on his shoulders, grinning from cheek to cheek like she's the luckiest thing in the world.

You have a strong feeling she was.

Two droplets of shame fall upon the luminous picture, your eyes staring into the dark brown orbs of a dead girl.

"M' so sorry I didn't know.." you whisper to her, running your thumb over the glow of her cheek.

How dare you mention her? Over a stupid, hideous Christmas tree that's probably been torn to the ground by now. Over silly pink ribbons.