"Dad, why do we need to kill?"

Inside of my dream, I saw a little girl asked her father.

Her father grinned and stroked her hair. It was time to sleep, and he was inside of her room, tucking his daughter to bed.

"Why do you ask, Miracle?"

The little girl hesitated first, but then, she answered, "Nothing. It's just . . . doesn't killing someone is bad?"

"Yes, it is bad." said her father.

"Then why?"

Her father remained composed to her innocent questions and then he sighed, "Because, in order for us to live, we need to kill." It was his father's sorrowful reply.

The little girl called Miracle didn't able to answer back. There was a thought spinning on her young mind: "If I kill someone, then I will be a sinner."

That thought dwelt insider her mind. Seemed like it was not leaving her. That single thought, ruined her. It made her sleepless that night. Unable to control her thoughts, it made her sanity destroyed until she became blank.

While she was driven into nothingness, a decision was formed inside her head: "I don't want to be a sinner, that's why I will not kill." And so, she whispered to her young self.

. . . .

"Like I said! I don't want to kill!!"

At this time, the little girl screamed out of frustration and horror. She was caged inside of an abandoned building full of atrocious people. They were trying to kill her, but she kept on running away.

"I don't want to kill! I don't want to kill! I don't want to! Let me out of here!"

The little girl was too afraid to kill, even though she was already trained. She couldn't do it. All she did was cry for help, hoping that someone would save her.

But nothing came. Soon enough, she realized to herself that . . . "This world is cruel."

Everyone in this world was cruel . . . and selfish. All she saw was darkness. She felt like she was standing on a water, and noticed her reflection below. While staring at her reflection, she sighted a demon who was smiling at her.

"Why are you so reluctant to kill?" her reflection spoke to her with a demonic voice.

"Does it matter?" answered the little girl, "What will I gain from killing them?"

"You will gain life. A freedom."

"A life, huh?" the little girl muttered. "Hey, you are me, aren't you?"

"Yes," said back the reflection with a tempting smile. "You are me, and I am you."

The little girl grinned mournfully, "Then tell me, do I have a life to live?"

"Of course." her demon replied, "Only if you kill lives."

The little paused for a moment. She was still trying to decide what side would she choose. Appalled, she consulted her demon for an advice, and that was the mistake that she ever had done. Her demon told her: "Yes, you have to kill, but you must choose the people who you kill. Murder those bad people who tried to make with this world a cruel place. Do that duty, and everyone will call you a heroine."

On that day, she started to think about it. If killing will give her life, then she must do it. She would be the heroine. Everyone would be proud of her. And that was what she truly wanted.

She was fooled by her own demon, but she still believed in it. And then eventually, reaping lives became her reason to live. All she ever thought that she was a heroine who slayed all the bad persons . . . and never noticed that she herself was the bad person in the story.

There was no way to run away from this.

Simple because . . . she was born for this bloodshed.

But on the contrary, those people who kill were only finding a way to escape the cruelty. That was the reason why they were still alive.

As soon as they could find a redemption, that was the right time to die. But it was not always like that. Some died, without a salvation.

Why couldn't they, you asked? It was because they were simply forsaken.

The little girl took a deep breath and made up her mind. She had chosen the messy life, that was because she had no choice.

She picked her sword, and then slaughtered them without a slightest emotion.

At that time . . . she completely fell on the darkness . . . but she didn't care . . . it was because her life was worthy to be in the bloody, desolate war. This was her world. This world was hers and hers alone.

And that was the beginning of her own tragedy.

What a poor little girl. Her soul had decayed in such early time.

Everything was already designed for her—how she would live, where and when she would die.

She had enough. She wanted to quit.

Yes, I have had enough. Yet, I learned how to survive.

Like at this time, I manage to live. I know . . . because my eyes opened on their own. And the moment I wake up, I feel like I have lost something . . . or somebody else. It frustrates me. It feels so empty.

But why . . . why did I live? I was so sure that I was going to die last time. It is a miracle? Ah . . . no. I am still here, because I need to atone for my sins.

Once they notice that I'm awake, there's a girl who came to me. She was sobbing as her tears start to fall down from her eyes.

"Nat . . ." that's what she calls me, "I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry."

I only stare at her with lazy eyes. I cannot make an expression, because I'm too tired.

"I was there, only watching you how you suffer." she continues, "I was too afraid in the happening that's why I couldn't do anything . . . to help you or to save you. I'm sorry, Nat. I was useless . . ."

If I could wipe her tears, I would tell her that it is all right. I will say that I'm glad that they're fine. At the very least, I can say that my sacrifice didn't go in vain. That makes me really happy.

I groan as I try to reach her hand. She only watches me holding her hand. I squeeze it slightly and then pull a small smile on my face, telling that she shouldn't worry to me . . . because I'm fine.

And it's because I'm still weak and tired, my consciousness is blurring again. Without knowing, I fell asleep deeply.

. . .

The other time that I woke up again, I'm not in the hospital. Then I figure that I'm back to my room. I have returned to the place where I grew up.

Roaming my eyes around, I notice Nate sleeping beside me. I grin seeing Nate here. Wordlessly, I comb his hair with my fingers.

I do not know how many days have passed since I was sleeping, but all I know that I gained my strength again.

I continue brushing his hair, until he wakes up. I sight a surprised expression forms on his face, and then he smiles gratefully. "Hime," he calls me.

I smile back. And seems like I can't still talk.

"I'm glad that you're awake." says Nate as he sits down on the bed. "Do you need something?"

Now that he mentions it, I have just felt my throat dry. Since I couldn't utter any words, I give him a sign that I need water. Nate immediately understands what I meant and shakes his head as his reply.

"You still can't eat or drink anything, Hime." he tells me and I furrow my eyebrows. "Because you have just been through a surgery. Your wounds are still raw, they might get opened, you see."

I nod at him as a sign of understanding. I guess I will just bear with this.

"But if you really want to drink, there's still a way, though." Nate says, standing up. He gets a glass of water placed on the side table, and then he looks for a clean cloth. He soaks the cloth to the water and dampens my parched lips.

Nathan helps me to drench my thirst, and once he is done, he kneels beside the bed next to me, in a praying-like position and takes my hand and kisses it gently.

"Do you hate me, Hime?"

All of a sudden, he questions me. I knit my browns closely, asking him why would I hate him?

"Because of my own selfishness." he answers me. "I told you to live, when I knew to myself that you really wanted to die that time. I even pointed a gun to you." and then he chuckles while rubbing his nose. "Really, that was really stupid of me."

I chuckle without emitting a sound.

"So," and he continues. "Do you hate me now?"

I exhale and weakly shake my head. I reach my hand to his face and caress it with my utmost warmth. I want him to reach my sincere answer.

Nathan is staring at me and I return it back. I gaze deeply to his and try to speak to it. I do not hate him. It is my own decision that I want to live. And I'm the one who's selfish here. It was very immature of me to die and run away just to forget my pain. I was so afraid to be hurt and suffer in the future. That was why I looked for death. It never crossed to my mind that once I'm dead, I will never ever remember them.

And right now, I want to live, because Dennis gave up his life forme, for someone as foolish as me. I get it now, why Dennis wanted me to stay alive. It's because he wanted me to change the course of my pathetic life. He even sacrificed everything just for me. What an idiot.

And at the very end, he had a high hope that I could do it, because I'm Miracle.

I laugh to my mind. I still cringe whenever I say my own name. Miracle, huh? What a lame name.

Even at this time, I still hate my life. And I will do my best to cherish it. It will take much time, but it will be worthy to wait.

. . .

Days, weeks, months had passed, and I'm now able to move my body. I can stand, even speak. My recovery was fast. Thanks to the high-tech medical technologies, as well as the doctors.

Since I can walk on my own, I head outside the house for a stargazing. It's night, past twenty-three o'clock. I sit on the ground of the garden and then lay down. I immediately gaze up, as usual it is a clear night sky with glittering stars. It makes me smile. Something little as this will satisfy me for being alive.

Then I close my eyes as I enjoy the silence.

Life is always be like this. It should be silent, tranquil, and beautiful.

"Can I join you, Miracle?"

I quickly open my eyes and then see my mother standing near me. She has a smile while bending her body slightly.

"You can, Mom." I say and then she sits down.

"Having random thoughts?" she prompts.

"It is obvious to me?" and I ask her sheepishly.

Mom grins and pats my head, "Of course. When you're having deep thoughts, especially at night, you usually go outside and dream."

I chuckle, "You really know me, Mom."

Mom nods and caresses my hair.

Everything goes silent as Mom and I stare at the sky.

It has been a while since we had a sole moment. We didn't talk for almost a month. Two reasons: I was still recovering and I'm still slightly mad to the fact that I'm an adopted child.

"Mom," I call in a low voice. "Did I hurt you?"

"For what, child?"

"For hating you." I answer honestly.

My mothers sighs, keeping her small smile. "So you really did hate us?"

It crushes my heart when I saw the hurt to her face. I bite my lower lip. I'm ashamed. Really ashamed of her. I sit up, facing her but my head is bowed down.

"I'm sorry . . ." I say breathlessly. "I'm so sorry . . ."

I feel Mom reach my cheeks with her warm soft hands, "You don't need to say sorry, Miracle, because I understand. I understand your loneliness and anger. Of course, you'll be sad, knowing the truths."

"But still, what I did is wrong." my guilty reply, "I have no rights to hate you, because all this time, you gave me all of your love; you provided me a shelter; you have done everything you could to be my mother, and yet, all I repaid you is hatred . . ."

"I understand," I hear her gentle voice comforting me. "But now that you have acknowledged your mistakes, can you do me a favor, child?"

I lift my head and meet her gaze."What is it?"

Mom pulls me, giving me a light, yet warm embrace. She kisses my forehead as she rubs her thumbs to my temples. "Please stop making yourself miserable, my dear."

Suddenly, I stay frozen where I am, while my eyes are widened. I'm the one who's making myself miserable . . ?

"Learn how to forgive yourself; unload all those guilts and burdens you have been shouldering; give yourself a little kindness. Enough of these sufferings . . ."

I nod my head down as my eyes start to moist. Mom does know what I feel. She really understands me. She have found the loneliness that I hide inside.

"Th . . ." I stammer, lips jerking because I'm refraining myself to cry. "Thank you . . . Mom."

"Shh . . ." she hushes and tightens her hug to me. "It is my job to comfort you, dear, because I am your mother."

I sniff quietly, wiping the small tears to my eyes. "Yes, Mom."

"Then, as your mom, I want you to remember this," she says, clearing my face using her fingers. "You are not miserable, okay? You are Miracle, my only miracle in this world."

After hearing her comforting words, it makes me smile—a smile of gratefulness.

. . . .

Many nights had passed since I locked myself to my room. Sure, I would go downstairs to eat with them and talk about little things. But I'm still dead inside—physically and emotionally—that's why speaking is difficult for me. Seems like they understand and let me stay silent just for a little more while.

I'm about to prepare myself to sleep when someone knocks three times on my door.

"Miracle?"

"Dad?" I say back and the door creeks open.

"Can we have a little chat?"

I laugh softly with a closed-eye smile. "We can."

Dad casually walks inside my room. "I see that you're about to sleep. I'm sorry for intruding."

"No," I reply while sitting on my bed. "It's fine, Dad. I'm cool talking with you." And then I grin at him.

He grins back as we decided to have a conversation at the balcony of my room. There are two chair placed on the balcony, with a small rounded shape table made of glass. Looking above, the night is still clear. The stars are plenty enough to able to write your name above. Cold wind blows slightly, sending our skin a small shivers.

I smile inwardly as I inhale the fresh night's air. It is another peaceful night.

"So, how's my daughter?" My father starts the talk.

I look down shyly, "I'm sure that you already know the answer, Dad."

"I thought so,"

I gaze at Dad, he have that small, gentle grin sketches to his young yet quite old face. We are facing each other as we stay silent again. I can determine that this has gotten so little awkward.

As far as I can remember, the last time we talked was the time when I found the revelation of my own real identity. Of course, I got mad. Of course, it gets me mad. If I were to ask, it still hurts a lot for me. But I'm trying to lessen my thoughts that could bring death to my sanity. Yes, it is hard to apply it to myself, because fighting your own self can lead to destruction of my mind.

Making yourself cold and empty is a lot easier, though.

"Hey, Miracle?" Dad suddenly prompts and I immediately peer at him, waiting for the continuation of his words. "Do you still want to see the beautiful sides of being alive?"

His question got me so triggered. Beautiful sides of being alive? I think, I have forgotten that thought long time ago. Who can say that life is still beautiful when it never bring beautiful occasions to my life. Everything goes ugly. Everything.

I shake my head as my response. He nods, understanding me. "How can you say?"

"I don't know," I answer, "I can only say that, because I'm still in the process of denial."

He hums, "I get your point."

"How about you, Dad?" Now, it is my time to ask him. "Do you find life beautiful?"

"Haha," he chuckles with warmth, "I guess, yes. I found life beautiful, Miracle."

"H-How? And why?"

"You see, child, I am not supposedly to be happy just like how you feel right now." says him. "But when a person is longing to be happy, he will find a way to be happy. Just like me, I desired to be happy, that's why right now, I have my wife and children."

I get it. His family, which is us, is the reason why he's satisfied to life. It's touching and heart-warming. I'm happy for Dad, achieving happiness because he really wanted to.

I never reply, but I grab his hand and hold it strongly. This hand . . . is the reason why I'm still here. It is the one who took care of me, since the day I was born. This tainted and sinful hand was the one that raised me . . . and it is the one who mold the one who I am right now. This is the world that is given to me. At the very least, I should treasure it.

I should treasure this world of malice while finding a way for happiness. It sounds so sorrowful, but I will do the hardest best that I can to escape this cursed world. This is the reason why Dennis left his humanity to give me a freedom.

"One more thing, Miracle," I arch my head and look at him once again. "I'm planning to disband the White Nation."

I gasp silently and then give him a confused look.

"Why, you asked?" he sighs, "This organization only brought us nothing but melancholy and despair. Why would keep it alive?"

"I understand." I mutter.

This Mafia group is a long-lived legacy, and now it is disbanding. Kuya Mike is the next heir who would manage this group, but it is now close to end. Well, I'm glad for Kuya Mike.

"Well, then." Dad stands up from his seat, "I'm happy having a little chat from you, my princess."

I smile. "Me too, Dad. Thank you."

"So, I'll be going." and then he starts walking.

As he is heading outside, I remember something. I want Dad to do me a favor, so I call him.

"What is it?" he questions.

I inhale confidence and let it out. I don't know if he would accept my request, but I have to try.

"Dad," I say in a sterned voice, "I want to meet your brother, Will Nakajima."

↭ ♡ ↭

this chapter sucks, btw. forgive me if it's lame. also, i wrote this without thinking, I just wanted to finish it already. lol

one more thing, the soundtrack doesn't belong to me. it is composed by hiroyuki sawano~ i love him. his songs are freaking lit. btw, if the song is not playing, you can search it in youtube. lels. it is called "thedogs".

and a not-so-friendly reminder that the next chapter will be the last one. :) :') :'(

- handtheirend ✌😁🔫