The Identity Of The Sinful Miracle

t w e n t y - n i n e

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∽ m i r a c l e ' s  p e r s p e c t i v e ∽

"I'm already dead, Miracle." he tells me silently, "And so are you."

That makes me chuckle on my throat. May be he's right. Then I notice his cheek, it is bleeding. I wounded him below the eye. I immediately lift my hand and caress it. It smears more. Ah, right, my hands are both wounded and tainted with blood.

"I'm sorry, it got worse." I apologize, pertaining his stained cheek.

"It's all right," he mutters as he puts away a strand of hair from my face and I almost close my eyes. "I'm sorry if I kissed you."

I snort, shrugging off. Then he caresses my cheek, and this time, I fully closed my eyes under his touch and open them shortly. I saw him leaning in, my mind told me to move away, "Leave my lips alone, you ugly."

"I'm sorry," he answers silently and then the bed moves, lying beside me. "What made you go berserk, if I may ask."

I heave a very deep sigh and stay silent for a while. There is a wide gap between us. He is just near, but it feels like we are ocean apart.

"I . . ." Chance trails, finding for words. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Another sigh was drown out from me and decided to answer, "When I was still a child, my parents would often bring me to a psychiatrist . . ." I prompt, "As a child, it hurt for me, because they thought that their daughter is a psychopath.

"I wouldn't be like this, if they wouldn't raise me in a battleground. I never wanted to kill, but they forced me, lumping the dumb thought inside my mind that I wouldn't be killed, if I killed them.

"One time, they gave me my first mission and forced me to kill some wicked people. After killing them, I could not take the stench of the blood and the hideous sight of their deaths. It terrified me and cried myself out. It burdened me, to the point that I was preoccupied of the thought of me, being a murderer."

I pause on explaining, giving myself a time to breathe. And I start again shortly. "My parents distinguished that I was a weak child, and weak people have no place in the Mafia Community. So as a solution for this, they decided to bring me to the neuroscientist. The reason why they were bringing me there was to have a brainwashing session."

I feel myself to quiver. I touch my head, because I still remember how painful it was. "And in every waves of high voltage electricity to my brain, they were telling me . . . s-some, extremely evil words! They said: "You are a monster's child! You should act like one! Kill your weaknesses, kill your human side. Kill everything! Kill the idea of being happy; kill the idea of beauty! Just live and carry the name as a Sinful Miracle."

I never knew not until this time, I'm crying again. Tears are flowing as I tell my story and identity.

I just felt Chance scooted me over as he wraps his arms around me. He nuzzles my hair and whispers some soothing words. It feels warm. His embrace is kind and comforting. At the same time, it is nostalgic. "Shh . . . I now know, Miracle. Enough now . . ."

The people I grew up with made a monster in me. It made me kinda mad when my father ordered me to live here in the Philippines to change the course of my life, because I am still young.

Why only now, though? When the monster have grown beautifully evil.

Gradually, I'm starting to calm down. I'm tired now. I hold his arm and close my eyes once again. "Since I stayed here, something changed in me . . . that I'm becoming a human again. And every time that my human side is starting to take over my life, my mind will defy what my soul's desire. But I always listened to my thoughts and obeyed the things that stuck eternally to my mental attitude . . .