I wondered how many nights had passed since I discovered the real her. She had made my countless nights sleepless, just thinking a thought of her.

Hey, what is with you?

She was not that normal. All she knew was to kill all those human monsters with her own fancy way.

But still, why was I so drawn to you?

I could see her as if you she a ray of blinding lights to me; although, her name was not as colorful as her life. The name "Sinful Miracle" really suited her.

Yes, it suited her. Yet, I was wondering how heavy was that title for her? How much burden did it give her just to shoulder it? Did it suffocate her? Was it not tiring?

Hey, Miracle . . . could you still breathe? Could you still keep going? Could you still bear it?

And I had just realized that she didn't have to bear it; to keep going; to breathe, because she was already a dead miracle.

She died, five years ago.

But three years later, before five years, she came back.

The missing one appeared right in our doorsteps. Every persons she left were appalled, seeing her standing on her two feet and alive. Every single one of us thought that she were dead.

After the day she went lost in the sea, we spent a whole year finding for her remains. In the end, we gave up.

Imagine how hard for us to believe that she survived the tragedy.

She told us that you wandered in a place unknown to her. Her memories went missing. Yet we all thought that she was her. Her face, her hair, her body, her smell, and everything about her was really the lost one.

She made us all believe that she was her.

And at dawn, death came to the House of the Twain in a form of a miracle.

A Miracle that came back to life was a fraud.

The Hoaxed Miracle shot the new Don of the White Nation, Mikhail Zeke Twain. Although, it was no longer a mafia, still many underground companies were chasing after us.

Fortunately, the new Don didn't die, but we captured the Miracle with a fake identity. After some investigations, we found out that there was an illegal company that was its main business was to make clones of a certain person.

Humans were becoming smarter and smarter as the age passed by. As they became smarter, the world was decaying to the core.

That was the reason why the Detective Agency was formed.

If before, we had a gang called Cold Warriors, it changed when we became a part of the Agency. We were now named as as the Hunting Hounds. We didn't name ourselves like that, it was just entitled to us for the elite works.

The Detective Agency was always on the grave peril. It was built to topple all the criminal organizations. Everyone was our enemy.

We arrested the impostor of Miracle, and eradicated the company who would make clones. We didn't left a single trail of their souls alive. That was they deserve for trying to overthrow the Agency.

Since then, the whole clan were all reluctant to trust again.

After a tale of eight hundred and twenty days . . .

Nathan could not believe to meet the ghost of the past this night.

"It was her." He started muttering, "It was really her. Damn it! I should've known better!"

Regret was all ever he had. Guilt and shame were taking him all over. Only if he believed that it was truly her, he would have done his all might to protect her. We could say that we did everything to make the casualty safe, but we didn't expect that it was the real Miracle.

Since no one anticipated the return of the lost one, us three became like machines made of flesh—it was as though we were stung by a poisonous reptile so that we could not move.

Time came and I met a head injury that caused a mild concussion. As well as Justine, he broke his foot. Nathan was the only one unscathed, yet his human heart was in great grief, witnessing how they almost murdered his twin. How he wanted to save her from pain, but all he could do was to watch her suffer.

It served for me as well. The memories played. I remembered how we met; how we dreamt; and how we grieved. All I could see was her face; I could hear her voice.

After the Miracle got blacked out, the armed men took us to the basement of this facility. They caged us here in this place full of black and disgusting smell of the sewers.

Nathan was struggling hard to escape the metal shackles. He struggled and struggled, until he became powerless and hopeless.

While feeling the despair, hours and hours had passed.

I was sighing until the door just busted open. "Hello, motherfuckers."

Our gazes targeted the lady who greeted us in her most profaned language. She was walking her way to us with a blank face. "Hoh, I never knew that the Hunting Hounds are these simpletons."

We only gave her a silent reply whilst cluelessly staring at this woman. We could tell, she was a part of this company.

"Well, too much with the 'silent' chatter," she rolled her eyes with sarcasm to her voice. "You're all free, bitches. Here are the keys." Then the lady threw the keys on the floor. Good thing, it was on our reach.

Nathan wasted to time and quickly took the keys. As he tried to unlock the shackles, the lady who provided us the keys had started to exit the basement. And before she left, she stated, "Hurry  up, loser dogs, before your damned miracle get killed."

Loosening the chains, the lady went out of the basement. Hearing her final sentence was not enough to punish myself internally and we couldn't stay unmoved. We had to fasten up.

Nathan was the one who escaped first, then helped us two to unshackle the binds. Since Justine couldn't move freely, I supported him. We were still unarmed, but Nathan was capable enough to provide us guns and cutlery. He took down some men with his bare hands that was approaching us within the shadows of the basement.

We followed the lead of Nathan and we were just taking care his back. Soon after our evasion, gunshots started to filled the whole place. It must had started. Miracle could be fighting the only life she owned, although she knew nothing what was the reason why she was struggling.

Justine asked me to bring him in a place where the Intelligence Office was. I immediately comprehended his motive. As the Computer Master he was, he would do his tricks to hack the security of this facility and send a request back-up to the Agency.

As soon as bringing Justine to the Intel Office, I hurriedly went to the place where Nathan was going. We were heading up, and the gunshots were becoming louder and louder as time passed by.

I gritted my teeth. I had lost as many times as the life wanted me to. And I had never been strong enough not to be afraid of it. If . . . Only if something bad happened to her again, I would never imagine how exaggerated the pain was.

I had whispered my prayers to heaven—to keep the miracle as she was. I prayed for her safety, and wait for us in a stable state.

At the very long last, we found her—surrounded with her living demons. And these demons with flesh and bones  was about to take her life. But we never planned on letting any harm could touch her that easily.

We killed them all. But our killings were not the same as the Mafia's. The Mafia's killings and Agency's killings were different.

And alas, there she was, standing in front of a bloodbath. Her lips were snapped in silence as her eyes were burning in restlessness. Clothes were shredded and flesh was tattered. Blood was smeared generously on her ivory skin. Her face was not as ethereal as before, thus it was rendered in ingloriousness. It was not obvious enough, but her teeth were gnashing in agitation; shoulders were sunk down in discernment.

"All my life, I was desperate to know who I am . . ." she uttered with quivering lips, "But learning that my past is related to this bloodshed . . . I don't want it; I can't stand it."

"You don't have to be, Hime . . ." said Nathan, trying to resolve her relentless pain.

Nathan tried to talk to her, yet her mind was not concentrated to his harmonised words. She was beholding her gun as though there was an adoration at the wonders of such a genuinely crafted handgun.

This Miracle . . . was in loved in killing herself.

We, who was just feet away from her, were shocked at the new sound of a gunshot.

She shot her own self.

I was taken aback tremendously as I saw her lying on the pool of her blood with a large wound at the center of her head.

How could she? How could she kill the miracle within her?

Nathan, as fast as he could, ran towards his twin sister. He was trying to wake her up, but it was useless.

Heavy breaths and twisted pain in the chest, I couldn't bear any of it. Why did I have to witness it? Why did I have to see her this crucial state? Her eyes were still opened, but lifeless. The redness of her skin was becoming paler and paler as if her flesh was creating a new corpse for us to mourn. It pained me. And it was a pain for me. Why . . . Why did she have to die too fast?

Die? Was she really dead?

"What a fucking idiotic bitch!" someone squealed behind. I saw the lady with a profaned language marching towards the dead Miracle. "I said that she should escape here alive, not to kill herself! Gosh damn it! This little shit is really a pain in the fucking ass!"

She was hissing like crazy. As she reached her, she checked her pulse. Then she just exclaimed that she still had the beats. Quickly, Nathan carried her and rushed her inside the emergency room of this facility—as per the she-doctor's order.

While settling Miracle on a gurney, the doctor went to me and asked where Justine was staying. I told her where, then she commanded me, "Go to him and contact the Mayrand doctors to come in this place."

I knew what she meant. Trevor Mayrand and Trevanna Mayrand were both prominent in neuroscience. They would be a great help if ever they were here.

As soon as I connected the command to Justine, I went back to the emergency room.

The she-doctor was still here, talking to someone. To my observation, it was the local doctor of this place.

"What, huh?" the she-doctor threatened as her bloodlust activated. "Just so you know, you disgusting biological mutation, the boss of this company is now dead," she said in most insidious tone and all of the sudden, she took a scalpel out and struck the table. "I am taking over of this company, so you better fucking do your job to obey me, or else, I rip your organs using this fucking scalpel."

The man only shuddered in fright and gasped as he followed the new self-proclaimed boss of this company.

The other fellow doctor immediately looked for the Fallen Miracle. Horrified with his actions, his face was seemed in deep terror. "I . . . I can't do this thing!" He quaked. "Her head injury is too severe for a local medical person like me to handle! She needs better medication!"

"Jeez, you fucking useless moron." whined the she-doctor. "At least make her stay alive until the Mayrand arrived."

"Y-Yes!" Then he started working again.

Nathan was beside his twin sister, never wanted to leave her side. He was in the lowest point of his life again. The one that was crowned in greatness, was now crowned in great despair. Yet his eyes still had a small glimmer of faith.

I still cared about her, thus I was also betting my faith to the One who invented miracle in this world.

I gazed at she-doctor. She was too lethal for a short-built lady as her.

"Why are you doing this?" I questioned her.

She shot me a death glare, "What this?"

"This. You're helping us."

"Bullshit." she replied curtly. "I'm not doing this for free, idiot. And I'm doing this for my own convenience. Not hers, not for everyone, either. Now shut up, because it's annoying to talk to a loser dog like you."

I immediately yielded. Her profanity was making me sick.

After a less than thirty minutes, the Mayrand came, ordering us to come out of the emergency room. But one thing that we only knew, she was in a very critical condition. Her brain had swelled too much. I wondered what would they do.

We were just sitting the waiting area seats. Nathan's head was bowed down, staring the floor emptily, whilst his mind was in the world where his Hime was his everything.

"Why is it . . ." He whispered in void voice, eyes not looking at me. "Why is it so hard to attain the Miracle? We are so near, so close . . . yet why I can't still grasp her? I am afraid, really afraid . . . What if, this would be forever lost I would ever had?"

"Shut it, Nate." I sighed. I was thinking the same as him, but, "In this hopeless case, we should hope for a miracle."

"Really? In this forsaken world, rotten everything we are hoping for." He returned with a sigh. "We continue fighting for hope—for our rights to be free people, but why all I can see that we're still a prisoner of this cursed life?"

I didn't reply, because I was never sure about the answer to his question. We were still taking a road with endless rain. Chasing and running for the light, all I could do was to keep on fighting to turn back the tide of hell. That was our top priority as of now.

Waiting for us was like hell. Good thing, the she-doctor completely took control of everything. Everyone who worked in this company was working under the mercy of her feet. No one could assault her, it was her order not to harm any of us. Justine's has been taken care of. He had a bandage on his foot and would be walking with crutches.

Nathan was still spacing out. I couldn't blame him.

Later this evening, the she-doctor came to visit us in this waiting area. Her face was still stoic, unfazed by all the intoxication in the surrounding.

"Ah, it's almost six hours since the operation started. She must have been really in a grave state. Poor thing. I wonder why did that happen to her?" There was a sneer to her voice and smirk to her lips. She was  about to add something when the three of us gave her pure malice intent. But seemed like she was used to see demons in her daily life, it didn't bother her, thus she smiled. "By the way, karma is the name."

"Pardon?" Justine inquired.

"My name is Karma. Karma Frizzell." she paused and added shortly, "And 'Bitch' is my middle name."

What perfect name for a perfect kvetch like her.

"Well, I only came to check you all." She turned her back while flipping her freely fallen hair. "Sayonara, motherfuckers." Then she left.

We all sighed. Her tongue was untamed. But it wasn't a big deal.

I checked the time. It was almost two o'clock in the morning. We were all exhausted, yet we chose to stay awake. Her surgery must be done this time.

And I was right. The Mayrand doctors both came out of the surgery room. We got our breaths hitched, waiting for their announcement.

I couldn't fail not to have an anxiety and doubt in my head. There were only two possible outcomes to her operation. I was praying that she on the stable mode—praying for these neurosurgeons that they managed to fix her.

We were gazing at their worn out expressions. The surgery costed them a great exhaustion. They had a grim looks in their faces as if they were about to deliver the message of the Death God.

"She's . . ." Trevor Mayrand uttered with a long sigh. "She's stable."

We got a huge relief in the midst of upon hearing his good proclamation.

"Yet we cannot assure her safety." Again, something trembled inside of me. She was stable, but far from being fine. What a load of utter bullshits. "The left hemisphere of her brain have been severed, including her languid center. A part of her skull had to be removed, since her brain have swelled too much. We managed—miraculously—stopped the bleeding and kept her alive as for the moment. She's unconscious and I'm giving her a forty-eight hours to wake up. If she didn't wake up after two days, I'll declare her brain-dead."

All I did was to tightly close my eyes and clenched my fists. Damn!

"It is your fault . . ." I heard Nathan whisper. "It's all your fucking fault!" It only surprised us all when Nathan attacked Trevor Mayrand and pulled his collar. The doctor didn't waver, only letting the restless Nathan to spat accusations to him. "She should've been fine only if you didn't left her! You left her! You fucking left her!"

He was breathing with harsh and broken voice. He was in great agony, tears were just rolling down on his cheeks. But his triggered face was immediately changed into vacant look. His face was showing that he realised something.

"Wait, wait, wait . . ." he muttered lifelessly. "Why did you leave her in the first place, huh? Why was she in your place? You . . ." Nathan exhaled, anger started to ignite once again. "You don't mean . . . You don't mean that she's been with you all the time. Am I right? I'm correct, right, huh? Answer me!"

"Forgive me . . ." It was Trevor Mayrand's apologetic reply.

Nathan, who wasn't able to control his anger, he punched the old man's face. He got stumbled on floor. He didn't fight back, knowing that he deserved that strike.

"For five years!!" an anguished scream of Nathan. He went down on his knees and pulled the doctor's collar. "For five fucking long years, you kept her away from us! You hid her from us, knowing all along the we are his family! Our family trusted you ever since the White Nation was built! But why did you took her away from us?"

"She was in comatose for three years," he reasoned out. "After she gained her consciousness, she wasn't able to move her body well. For a whole year, she was taking a therapy."

"It doesn't matter! You could have just returned her to us!" Nathan interjected.

"Wasn't that injustice, huh?" From this point, Trevanna Mayrand acknowledged herself. Being an emotional being, she couldn't keep her tears hidden. "How about the death of my son Dennis? She's responsible of his death, isn't she?"

As if on cue, the grip of Nathan to Trevor faltered. The name Dennis was like a curse that made Nathan weak.

Son. These doctors were Dennis' parents. And they were fully aware that Miracle was the reason (indirectly) of Dennis' death. Knowing the truths, why did the Mayrand family kept her still? They took care of her as if she was a real member of their family. They could have just killed her to settle their score to the Twain family. Maybe Nathan understood this part, so he distanced himself.

The dead looks on his eyes came back. He couldn't answer back. Truly, it was unfair to the sides of the Mayrand's. Miracle was still alive, yet the life of their son Dennis couldn't/wouldn't bring back to life.

What an ugly wired life. Right from the start, it was already connected.

Nathan only left this place with a heavy aura. He couldn't complain any longer. The Mayrand's were right.

On that moment, the doctors arranged her transfer to a better facility. They suggested to bring her to Mayrand Medical Hospital. I requested them to keep this in a secrecy and they assured me that.

I went where Nathan went. He was still my close friend, despite that things happened in the past.

My family already knew about the murderer of my mother's death. It was Miracle. Once they knew about it, they were infuriated. They attempted to file a case against the Twain's, yet the Twain family was untouchable by any civilians of this society. But as for me, they no longer needed it . . . because the Miracle died. But now that she came back (yet not really alive) what would they react?

Upon learning the Twain's was an accessory to cover up their daughter's wrong doing, they told me to stay away from them. Yet I chose to stay with them. My mother's death was now hidden in the past, and the bond among us six couldn't be exchanged by any means. At that time, I learned how to forgive. But it was still a mystery why she died. It didn't matter now, Mom would be proud of me because of my choice. Although my Dad disowned me to the Cain family.

In my disownment, the Twain was their to pick me up. That was something that I was grateful for.

In a few minutes, I found Nathan. He was sitting on a certain floor of this vacant and dark hallway.

"What will you do?" I questioned him. "Are you going to tell your family?"

"No, no . . ." He answered in hallow voice. "I'll wait for Miracle to wake up in forty-eight hours. If . . . If she didn't, I will tell them."

I only nodded. It must had been hard for him. For me as well. It was another dreaded event for the Twain family.

Seemed like the lost one was still a missing one. What a shame.

↭ ♡ ↭

♕ handtheirend