The next night, Mirabelle encountered another flash of white. Only this time, she was asleep.

She was a shadow, amongst bright lights. No one seemed to notice her as she was pushed around ,slammed into a locker, kicked to the ground. She only wanted someone to be there for her. Someone to pick her up and set her back on her feet.

When she raised her hand in class, the teacher never called on her. She or he simply looked past her as if she wasn’t even there. When she tried to talk to her lab partner, to try and make one simple friend, her partner simply grunted and got caught up in a conversation with the person next to her.

When she stepped foot inside her house, she was only greets with more trouble. They called her ugly, told her to do the chores, to sweep, and wash the dishes. She was their servant, even though they were her family.

She fiercely remembered one person, who she despised just as much as he despised her. The sunlight shone through the window as she rubbed a sponge over a dish, running it under a sink.

“Bitch.” He spat. “The back of that one isn’t clean.” He gestured to the plate.

“I know.” She answered quietly. “Just leave me alone.”

“Leave me alone?” he growled, stepping forward. She sensed she was in trouble and dropped the plate in the sink full of bubbles and sprinted. She was soon pinned to the wall, and punched in the arm. The person yelled at her, her brown eyes sparkling. He loved this.

“Stop it!” a feminine voice yelled, coming forward to pull the older male away from the victim. The feminine voice came from a woman, who slapped the girl on the face.

“Respect him, you worthless cunt.” The woman growled, before throwing the girl to the ground.


Mirabelle woke up, her heart thumping loudly. The image of the older boy ran through her mind. Her dark brown hair and dark eyes haunted her. He seemed so familiar, but Mirabelle just couldn’t put her finger on it.

Mirabelle settled back into bed, shutting her eyes to try and go back to sleep. But she couldn’t. The dream…or flashback, played over and over again in her head, the girl remaining faceless in her mind. Mirabelle felt terrified.

No matter how hard she tried to go to sleep, she just couldn’t. This made Mirabelle frustrated, because she felt so tired, but couldn’t manage to nod off. So instead, she got out of bed and opened her door ever so slowly, then tip-toed out.

Mirabelle got downstairs and went straight into the kitchen; trying to find her way around in the dark by touching the walls. She found the refrigerator and opened it, the light shining through the kitchen. She looked around and found a gallon of milk, which seemed good at the moment.

Keeping the refrigerator open, she opened a cabinet and pulled out a packet of Oreo’s which Harry had introduced to her once while they watched a movie. They were her favorite thing after donuts. She looked around, closed the refrigerator and then sighed, sinking to the floor. Her back leaned against a cupboard below the sink, she opened the packet of Oreo’s and dug in.

Harry woke up to a crackling sound. He squinted at his clock to see that it was two o’clock in the morning. Confused, he sat up, and heard around crackling sound.

He got out of bed and grabbed the first thing he could find, a shoe, for a weapon. He snuck out of his room and headed down the hallway. He reached the first floor of his house and it was dark, just as he had left it. So what was the small sound? Raising his shoe up, he flipped the kitchen light on.

There sat Mirabelle on the floor eating Oreo’s and sipping a glass of milk.

“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed, rubbing his eyes. “It’s two in the morning, for fuck’s sake.”

Mirabelle bit her lip, and Harry realized she looked almost scared. His expression softened.
“I couldn’t sleep.” Mirabelle whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” he asked, squatting down to meet her at eye level. “Is everything alright?”

Mirabelle hesitated, but slowly nodded.

“What happened? Is there something bothering you?”

Mirabelle frowned and harshly shook Harry’s hand off her arm. “What are you? Some kind of counselor?”

Harry was slightly infuriated by this, especially because he was just trying to help. “No need to be so rude. Usually when people do something nice for you, or try and help, you say ‘thank you.’” It bothered Harry how she could be so stubborn, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“I don’t want help. I never told you to come down here, did I?” Mirabelle spat, shoving an Oreo into her mouth. Harry sighed. Clearly, fighting with her wasn’t going to solve anything.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Mirabelle sighed loudly, and spoke first.

“I’m sorry if I woke you.” She said, peering up at Harry with her amazing eyes. “I’m really sorry.”

“You scared me more than woke me.” He chuckled gently.

“You can go back to sleep.” Mirabelle offered. “I’ll be fine.”

Harry sighed, and looked around, then made his decision. “I think I’ll stay here.”

He shifted his weight over and sat down beside Mirabelle, reaching over to grab an Oreo from the packet. “Want to tell me what kept you up?”

Mirabelle shook her head, and Harry sighed in response.

“Mirabelle, just know that if you need someone to talk to, I’m always there.” He faced her. “Okay?”

Mirabelle shot him a light smile and nodded. They spent the next few minutes in silence, and Harry didn’t mind as long as Mirabelle was safe. He still wondered what had made her be up this early in the morning, but it didn’t seem as if she wanted to talk about it.

“What is this…amnesia you said I had?” Mirabelle chirped, breaking the silence. Harry looked up at her, wondering why she wanted to know. He pushed that aside and answered.

“Amnesia… it’s like something tragic happens, that damages a tissue in your brain, causing you to forgot your past from a certain time and back. Sometimes, people gain their memory back in little chunks, and someone don’t get their memory back at all.”

Mirabelle nodded, taking in the information.

“Why?” Harry asked finally. Mirabelle just shrugged, wondering if these flashbacks she was getting had something to do with her amnesia.

“I just really want to know about my past, you know?”

“I know,” He nodded, slipping an arm around her shoulder. He noticed Mirabelle staring away, her lip slightly quivering. Whatever had prevented her from sleeping was sure bothering her.

“Mirabelle…”

“I’m okay.” She snapped, but from the way her shoulders tensed, that wasn’t true.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” he asked quietly, a tad hurt that he had done everything he could for her, and she still was hesitant to tell him her problems. He wanted to listen to her, and help her. He wanted to be there for her.

Mirabelle let out a shaky breath and rested her head on Harry’s shoulder.

“I really don’t know what it was.”

“What, was it a nightmare? Or some noise?”

“I don’t know.” Mirabelle repeated, quietly adding, “But it was horrible.”

“Oh.” Harry paused, then placed a hand on her knee. “How about you and I go get some rest?”

“I won’t, though.”

“You wont what?” Harry questioned.

“I won’t go back to sleep. I already tried, and I’m still wide awake.”

Harry thought for a moment. “Would it…would it help if you came and slept in my bedroom?”

“Nope.” Mirabelle laughed quietly. “Probably not.”

“Well, want to give it a try?”

Mirabelle looked up at Harry and narrowed her eyes at him. “Fine.”

Harry was taken aback by Mirabelle’s response. Was she finally opening up to him the way he wanted? Was she finally beginning to trust him?

“Just don’t, you know, touch me.”

Harry chuckled lightly and stood up, then held his hand out to help her up. “I wont. I promise.”

Harry led Mirabelle upstairs to his room, and closed the door behind them. Mirabelle climbed into bed and made herself at home, while Harry took the other side. Harry wondered if it was only him who felt the awkward tension between them. He was big on cuddling, and really wanted to hold her close. He scooted just a tiny bit closer to the beautiful girl and she immediately- flipped over and faced him.

“You’re bad at being discreet.”

Harry blushed, hoping Mirabelle couldn’t see in the darkness of the room.

“Do you want me to be really honest right now, Harry?” she asked gently.

“Yes.”

“Well, if I’m being really honest, I might just want you to hold me right now. Just a little.”

Mirabelle’s face was burning, but she figured it was worth a shot.

“But you were the one who told me not to touch you.” Harry teased, though he really did want to cuddle her.

“Fine. Whatev-“

“C’mere.” Harry cut her off and grinned, opening his arms out. Mirabelle giggled and rolled into his arms, her back against his.

Harry felt the sparks stinging his skin in a pleasurable way. He knew that matter how hard he told himself it wasn’t true, no matter how much he tried to think otherwise, Harry knew that he was starting to like Mirabelle.

But that was the problem. This was Mirabelle. And Mirabelle barely loved herself. How could she ever feel that way for him?

---

Mirabelle woke up to warm breath tickling the back of her neck. The sweet, lemony scent that lingered in her nose told her she was in Harry’s arms. Then, she wished she hadn’t woken up.

He was just so comfortable, and she liked it that way. Still slowly, she turned around so she faced him, and in his sleep, his grip loosened around her, then tightened once she had settled back down. She stared at Harry’s features. The brown curls dripping onto his face. His lips pink lips, and the little bit of acne that proved he wasn’t all perfect. Mirabelle smirked when she heard Harry snoring lightly, which was the only thing that kept it from being silent.

“Why are you watching me sleep?” Harry groaned, his eyes still closed. Mirabelle jumped, and a smirk approached Harry’s lips. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times, knowing all along that Mirabelle had been watching him. Mirabelle looked adorable when she blushed.

“Can you see through your eyelids or something?” she mumbled quietly. Harry let out a throaty laugh, pulling her into his chest.

Mirabelle wondered if this was normal, for all friends to be this close to each other on a bed.
Suddenly, she didn’t feel so uncomfortable, and wiggled out of his grip.

“I’m going to go take a shower.” Mirabelle informed, biting her lip. Harry stared at her with a sly grin.

“It helped, didn’t it? You feel asleep even before I did.”

“Yeah,” Mirabelle shrugged. “I guess.”

She quickly got up from the bed and left the room before their conversation come lengthen. As she walked out, Mirabelle couldn’t help but feel that this wasn’t right. She had only known Harry for what, a month? She still didn’t know if she could trust him. He was honestly still a stranger to her in general. A stranger named Harry.

Harry watched Mirabelle leave in a hurry, and wondered if her waking up to being in his arms had startled her. Mirabelle was hard to read. She was definitely not an open book. She was more like the kind of book that had so many themes and tones, and it was hard to find the main idea. He knew a few things that made her uncomfortable, but she was almost bipolar.

Harry yawned and sat up, rubbing his eyes to adjust to the sunlight creeping through the blinds. He slipped out of bed and went to his own shower, before changing into day clothes.

Suddenly, he heard shouting coming from another room.

“Fuck you, you spider! The world hates you!”

What the hell?

Harry smirked to himself and pulled a shirt over his head in one swift movement, before walking swiftly towards the sound. He walked in to see Mirabelle with a towel wrapped around her body, stamping furious on the ground.

“What are you doing?”

She looked up and blushed, a hand holding her towel up more firmly.

“I killed the spider.” She grinned and added, “With my foot.”

“You’re weird.” Harry muttered.

“And you should be proud. Most girls would freak out and call the emergency number.”

Harry just repeated his words, shaking his head.

“You are weird.”