The Identity Of The Sinful Miracle

f o r t y - s e v e n

"My, my." Someone utters, "I have never seen a crushed miracle in my whole entire life."

I hear someone speaks and try to look for the person. But I fail miserably. And little did I know, I sense myself calming. The squeezing sensation on my chest is slowly easing; I can catch my breaths; my body stops shaking; and I now feel the relief feeling throughout my system.

What happened? A man suddenly came and I now feel so fine.

"Feeling better, Natsumi?" Someone asks me.

I try to eyed the man, but it's impossible. My sights are still blurred. I groan silently, trying to move my body. My body is on the ground, lifeless and bloody.

"Great job on taking the poison, and up to now, you're still conscious." I can hear his voice and understand him. Then suddenly, I feel myself lifted and I'm now seated, reclining my back onto a hard surface.

"Who are you . . ?" I question in a roughed and breathless tone.

"You don't even have to know."

"I see . . ." I whisper, "T-Then why did you save me? I'm almost out of breath . . . I almost died . . . I almost reached my rest, my freedom."

"Huh," the man scoffs and chuckles. I hear some footsteps tapping on the ground, forwarding near me. Suddenly, I felt him pulled a handful of my hair and forcefully lifts my head.

I slightly wince and look in front. I can see his built, but I can't recognize his face. Everything is blurry and red.

"You don't know, Natsumi?" he questions softly but evilly. "Okay, hear what I'm about say." then he tightens his grip to my hair. "I let you live, because you have to atone your sins."

"M-My sins?"

"Yes, Natsumi. Do you know what are your sins?"

My sins . . . Since I was a child, my father is always telling us that the breath we received is a sin. Because for someone like us, who takes lives, is forsaken by the heavens and don't deserve to be here on this world.

"My sin . . ." I utter, "is being alive."

"Oh, I'm surprised that you knew." he laughs smugly. "Damn you, Natsumi, do you think you deserve to live?"

"No. I deserve to—" die.

"You're wrong," the man cut me. "You deserve to live, because . . ."

Then everything went fast. All I know is that my face is facing the floor again.

Wait. I actually felt what happened. He smashed my head with something hard that causes me to bleed again. It's confusing, because I felt no pain with his harassment.

As my face is on the cold floor, I sense something heavy at the back of my head. The force was strong, making my cheeks pounded severely on the ground. Then I have just found out that he is crushing my head with his foot.

"You deserve to live because you have to suffer."

It is what he says. What did I do that I deserve to suffer?