---

The next day, Mirabelle woke up feeling terrible. She could barely breath through her stuffy nose, and her head felt heavy. She sneezed loudly, groaning at the throb of her head.

“Why me?” she mumbled, shoving her face into her pillow.

“Knock, knock.” Harry’s deep voice appeared, knocking on the door gently. “I come with donuts.”

Mirabelle perked up, eyeing the plate of strawberry donuts in Harry’s hand. The other held a cup of steaming drink.

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, approaching her. She sat up, rubbing her eyes.

“Terrible.”

“I figured,” Harry sighed, handing her the donuts. She took one into her mouth, chewing on in contently. “Can I get you anything? Are you warm enough?”

“I’m alright.” Mirabelle smiled lightly, resting back against the pillow. “Thank you.”

Harry and Mirabelle stared at each other for a moment, and replays from last night went through Harry’s head.

“Is something…bothering you?” he asked hesitantly, putting the cup of tea down of the night table.

Mirabelle frowned, shaking her head. “No, why would you think that.”

“It’s just,” Harry struggled to find the right words. “I just, I was a bit worried about you last night.”

Mirabelle’s expression hardened, and suddenly, she didn’t want to talk anymore.

“Can you leave please?”

Harry was a bit taken aback by her sudden wish, but nodded and left.

Harry made his way up to his office room, flipping the light on with a single motion of his finger. He sat down in the comfortable black chair and switched his laptop on, thinking about the many days ago when he and Mirabelle had seen that news report. He felt guilty for searching her up in the internet behind her back, but he was curious. It was even harder considering she couldn’t remember anything. He wanted to know what had really happened to her last night, and what had led her to London the day he met her at Starbuck’s.

Opening a Google page, he typed in Mirabelle’s name and waited patiently for the results. As soon as the page loaded, his eyes widened. “Mirabelle Sedora” was highlighted in news reports, interviews, security websites, and everything in between. Cautiously, he clicked on the link titled, “Mirabelle Sedora: Girl Stopped from Committing Suicide.”

Mirabelle, suicidal?

He waiting for the page to load, then began reading.

Publisher: Mary Lee, June 7, 2013

Society these days has come to a dark point. We are pointing the younger generations in the wrong direction, leaving them alone. As we do this, we do not realize the consequences of our youth. Just a week ago, source photographer snapped a saddening picture of teenager, Mirabelle Sedora climbing onto ledge of her apartment balcony, ready to make a jump into the lake below. Moments later, source photographer got another photograph of two men pulling Sedora back, before taking her back into the apartment.

Click link below to see pictures.

Harry, who had already lost his oxygen from reading the short report, was almost too afraid to click the links. However, he ended up clicking them, and gulped at the pictures. The girl standing on the edge of the building’s face was blurred out, but it the second picture, there was clearly an older looking man and another smaller boy pulling her back up. They had saved her.

Harry didn’t want to go on. He didn’t want to look through the other websites linked to Mirabelle.

But he did anyway.

Two hours later, Harry held his head in his hands, wondering exactly who he had lying on the bed of his guestroom just upstairs. Mirabelle was wanted for questioning. Harry had read a report about Mirabelle being the “Monster hybrid”, and other articles on her starting fights outside the court building. Harry’s hands shook, recalling the day they had been making chicken salad together. He remembered how she had managed to pin him against the wall, while other girls her age would have failed.

Who was Mirabelle Sedora?


Mirabelle lay in bed, about to begin bawling from how painful her headache was. She reached over to grab a tissue from the night table, blowing her nose loudly. She could barely sit up without her head throbbing. Was this what she got for wanting ice cream? She couldn’t even fall asleep, without waking up from lack of oxygen, hence her stuffy nose, and she was very cold.

She sunk further into her blankets, squeezing her eyes shut to let her tears fall.

The vision she had had the night before came into her mind, and suddenly, she lifted her shirt up. She gasped at what she saw.

Just like In the dream, the area right in the middle of her stomach area was bruised accordingly. And it was bruised bad. She remembered how the girl in her vision had begun gasping for breath, barely able to see the man leaving the room.

Mirabelle began crying harder.

Who was he? Who was she? Was she the one in her vision?

What were these visions? Hallucinations? Dreams?

Flashbacks?

Mirabelle almost screamed, her head pounding, her lips chattering. But then Harry walked in.
“Hey, are you doing al-“ Harry cut himself off, eyes widening when he caught sight of Mirabelle sobbing into her blanket. He could tell, even from the doorway, that she was shivering. Running towards her, he sat down beside her and began stroking her hair, trying to see her face.

“Mirabelle. Mirabelle please don’t cry.”

Silence only followed.

Harry was scared. He had never had to see a girl like this. No one had ever broken down for him to see. Not once had he had to deal with this. But suddenly, all he wanted was to help her. He had already forgotten about the articles he’d read just minutes before, trying to get Mirabelle to turn around.

She just kept crying and crying, and Harry cringed at the sound. This was breaking his heart. He went around the bed and sat down on the other side, beside her.

“Hey,” he asked gently, “hey what happened?”

“My head h-hurts.” She stammered, raising her head up. She was so pretty, even when she cried. Harry bit his lip, searching her face for some hint of happiness. There was none. He scooted closer to Mirabelle, putting his arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist, pulling her close to him.

“You’ll be okay.” he whispered, stroking her hair once again.

Mirabelle looked up at him, glancing back and forth between his green eyes. Her lips trembled.
She spoke ever so softly. “C-can I trust you?”

Harry looked down at her, a smile on his lips. “Of course.”

Mirabelle took a deep breath, looking down at her hands. “I’ve been having visions.” She began, immediately sparking interest in Harry. “I—I’ve had three so far. One, about a little girl who got shunned by two others on the playground. The other was of a girl…” Mirabelle gulped. “It was of a girl, a teenager most likely, who was cleaning the dishes. Then this g-guy, he came into the kitchen, and started hitting her, and-and…”

“You don’t need to keep going, love.” Harry whispered, feeling her pain.

“No,” Mirabelle persisted. “the last vision. It was last night. A girl was in her room, and she was staring at blank sheets of paper. The same man, he came in with a cup of tea, and threw it on her. “ Harry watched as Mirabelle cringed at the thought of her vision. “The man had green eyes like yours.”

Harry connected the dots quickly. “Is that why you yelled at me yesterday?” he asked, caressing her cheek. Mirabelle stared at him and nodded. Harry couldn’t think of anything to say, so he wrapped both his arms around Mirabelle and pulled her on top of him, taking her into a hug. He squeezed her tight, and her arms went around his neck.

They stayed that way until Mirabelle fell asleep, her head rested in the crook of Harry’s neck. Her warm breath tickled his skin, but he wouldn’t be anywhere else than right here. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering what he was going to do.

He didn’t quite understand what Mirabelle’s visions were, but then he wondered if the reason she tried committing suicide was because of the abuse the girl in her visions had been getting. In other words, he was very sure the girl receiving abuse in the visions was Mirabelle herself.

Harry slowly sat up, holding Mirabelle in his arms, and scooped her up, setting her down on the bed. He then reached over and pressed his lips to her forehead, leaving them there for a few seconds, before pulling away. He took her hand, squeezing it lightly, then pulled the covers over her body.

“You’re going to be okay.” He said in a quiet tone. “Everything will be okay.”

Mirabelle stirred it her sleep, just as Harry got out of bed.

“I doubt it, Harry.” She croaked, her eyes opening just a bit. “I doubt everything will be okay.”

He was a bit startled that she had actually heard, but settled with a warm smile.

“Go to sleep, Mirabelle.”

She did as told.

---

The next day, Mirabelle was able to get up, and thank god she could, because she really needed a shower. After changing into fresh clothing, she tiptoed downstairs to see Harry making breakfast. She snuck up behind him and poked his sides, causing him to jump and curse quietly.

He turned around and saw Mirabelle standing there, looking much better than she had yesterday.

“Good morning, love.” He grinned, turning the stove off. He scooped up the scrambled eggs and set them onto a plate while asking, “Are you feeling better?”

“Definitely.” She answered, yawning slightly. “I feel like a new person.”

“I’m glad.” Harry laughed, leading her to the breakfast table. The two of them sat down and dug into breakfast, and Mirabelle didn’t even mind that there weren’t any donuts.

“Can we go bowling again?” she asked suddenly, chewing down her last forkful of scrambled eggs.

Harry made a face. “That would be boring because you’d just keep dominating me the whole time.”

“You just can’t suck up the fact that I’m better than you at something,” Mirabelle smirked. Ah, the old Mirabelle was back.

“I say we go sight seeing,” Harry proposed, laughing at the drop of Mirabelle’s grin.

“Sight seeing?” Mirabelle nearly screeched in disgust. “What turned you into such a bore?”

“Well, I am living with a pretty boring person.” He smirked in return, causing Mirabelle to roll her eyes.

“I am not boring.”

“Considering all you did was sleep yesterday, I presume you are.”

“I was sick, you bastard!”

“Still boring, babe.”

“Don’t call me babe.”

“Alright, sweetheart.”

“I hate you.” Mirabelle mumbled, flicking some egg at Harry’s shirt. Instead it landed on his arm, and he looked up.

“You did not just flick egg at my arm.”

“Oh, but I did.”

“That’s it.” Harry pushed his chair back quickly and stood up. Mirabelle realized what was going to happen and scrambled out of her seat, running into the living room. She screamed and Harry gained on her. She increased her speed, slowing down as she ran up the stairs. She was trying not to laugh, as she would began running slower. She ran through the living room upstairs, and into Harry’s bedroom. Mirabelle sprinted to the other side of the bed, staring Harry down, who was ready to lunge on the other side of the bed.

Mirabelle made the false movement and jerking to the left, making Harry sprint the other way, and she jumped pounced on top of on top of the bed, ready the charge out of the room.

Until Harry grabbed her ankle.

Mirabelle screamed, losing her balance, falling face first onto the bed. Harry pounced on top of her, and began tickling her sides for a long period of time. The sound of Mirabelle laughing and giggling was music to his ears, causing him to laugh along as well.

Harry tickled her until she was out of breath, lying on the bed like a dying snail. He was still laughing on top of her, until suddenly, Mirabelle’s hands pushed his chest, knocking him over. She rolled on top of him, propping herself up with her hands on his chest.

“I hate you,” she giggled, her rainbow eyes bright.

“Do you?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. He flipped the two of them back over so he was on top of her again. “Do you really?”

Mirabelle heart began beating faster and faster as Harry continued to stare at her, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah,” she snorted. “I really do.”

Harry began tickling her again, until Mirabelle yelled “rape!” and squirmed underneath him.

“God, you’re adorable.” Harry exhaled, smiling widely. Mirabelle bit her lip, staring into Harry’s forest green eyes. How gentle and playful they were. Somehow, she felt so weak under his green eyes. Weak, in a good way.

The moment ceased, and suddenly, everything moved in slow motion. Mirabelle’s heart racing fast was the only thing getting faster.

Harry leaned down, his nose brushing lightly against Mirabelle’s. Her eyes were so close now, and he could see how the green merged to a blue, blue to purple, purple to pink. He could feel Mirabelle’s heart beating fast against his chest, causing his to smile. He reached up, cupping the side of her face. He leaned in further, and his lips brushed lightly over Mirabelle’s. He felt Mirabelle’s hands grave the back of his neck, pulling him down all the way. Their lips connected with a soft click, and Mirabelle’s lips massaged his gently. Harry couldn’t believe he was doing this. He couldn’t believe she was letting him do this.

But of course, if something seems too good to be true, it probably is.

Mirabelle pulled away suddenly, eyes wide. “W-What was that? Why did you-you do that?”

Harry’s smile fell, and suddenly, only one thought filled his head.

Oh shit.

Notes

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