The Last Miracle

II

I woke up screaming to my nightmares. The pain heaved in heart, tearing me apart. It shouldn't be a big deal because it's been ten years since I was having them, would rather have been able to make best friends with them till now.

But I couldn't. I placed my hands on my mouth and closed my eyes while reminiscing that horrendous nightmare, afraid that it will come true.

It suffocated me as I tasted my tears, sweat and confusion on my tongue as the surrounding seeped in. With five more deep breaths, I absorbed the present. I was not in my hostel room, nor I had been here before. I was in a bed around which I see two book cabinets and a small sofa. Oh, wait someone's sitting on the sofa.

"Whatt thee fu----" My heart busted open my chest to see That Creature existing quietly right in front of my eyes. He was in a homely attire, loose white T shirt and black sweatpants with a slick silver chain hanging around his neck. His silk hair covering his forehead and bracelets dangling from his right hand's wrist. Damn those veins--- right, the reality first.

"The hell am I doing here? And what's this place?" I made him look up to me from something in his hands, a letter.

He snapped it close to answer me, "My home". And kept it aside, "Feeling better?"

"Why on heaven am I in your HOUSE??" I shifted in between the covers. Jokes apart, it smelled really nice probably because of the perfumes he wore.

He stood up from the sofa, "Want to be in a hospital then?" Putting his hands inside his pocket, he continued with an expressionless face, "But they will call your home this time though. Which you don't want."

"From what I recall, that wasn't the case last time." I smiled sarcastically, at him.

He raised his eyebrows, "That's because last time I was your guardian. This time I won't be."

I muttered under my breath, "Did someone ask you to do that!"

"Come down." He moved down the stairs. Only then I notice the architecture of the house. It's not exactly two storeyed but rather there was just an upper platform with a railing where I was and down there is the actual living room with the balcony and the kitchen. I went out to the balcony to witness that extravagant night he sees every day. Light wind blew consoling me of my nightmares.

From the kitchen he called out, "I made some tea." I am bewildered, not because I wasn't served tea in someone else's house but because He was serving that tea.

I went inside, picked up the cup from the coffee table and smelled it. It was chamomile tea, helps with insomnia. But I must have given him a very creepy look to which he says, "It's not poisoned. You can have it."

He returned to the kitchen when I uttered, "When on earth did I ever say that?"

He resumed cutting vegetables in the chopping board, "You know you can ask your questions without taking heaven, hell and earth in record."

I gave him a look while sipping from the cup, it tasted refreshing.

"Something wrong?" I couldn't contain myself to ask, "To the point of serving me tea?"

He slid down the chopped vegetables in a container with the knife, "Nothing. I figured you would be exhausted from all that crying in your sleep."

My cornea ruptured, "ME?"

"Yeah." He nodded, "You were whimpering the whole time."

A heavy weight settled on my heart, not because too much information has been disclosed, but what pained me more was the outcome of the disclosure. I placed the cup on the coffee table and sat on the sofa, "It's pity then. Again." To which he doesn't say anything.