Miracles

PROLOGUE

'I'm sorry.' She cried. 'I am so sorry. I didn't mean to... I didn't do it on purpose.'

Rain curled around her chin, burying her tears. Her long black hair damped, glued to her pale face. Her black dress was smudged with mud. She looked heavenwards with bloodshot eyes. It looked as if the sky was falling down, piece by piece.

'The angels are crying too.' Maria thought. 'They know my pain.'

The people around her started to leave giving her sympathetic looks, murmuring to each other so quietly so she wouldn't catch what they were saying. But, she knew they were talking about her. They all were. She was the spotlight of all attention when she needs it the least. And she knew no one was actually was talking on her behalf. Then her parents left her too. They didn't know her pain and they'll never know. They'll never love someone the way she did. But, what did she do to her love in the end?

She took a small knife from her side pocket. It was a birthday gift from her Aunt.

'For your protection.' She said as she gave it to her. But what she was about to do now? Her Aunt would never forgive her. At that time, she didn't care either.

'I am sorry for what I have done to you. I won't die.' she mumbled. 'No, I deserve a worse punishment that death. I'll live with the pain of your death. Everyone will hate me, because when they see me, they'll see a monster. I'll suffer because of what I have done to you.'

Her cries reduced to sobs, but the pain inside her chest expanded to its explosion point. It felt like her heart was moments away from burning into ash. She waited until no one was peaking at her, until she was forgotten. She had never thought of doing this before; burying pain by pain. Before, there was no reason to do such a thing. But now? She'd have a smile in her face for a fractured bone, a bloody wrist or even a bullet through her body than to feel the brokenness inside her.

She took a deep breath closing her eyes and cut the left side of her face tearing the flesh open. She collapsed, screaming in pain; a blood curling scream that could be heard from a mile away. Pain. That was all she felt. Though the pain was unbearable; the warmth of the blood somehow brought her comfort. That was what she wanted, right? Yes. This pain was good, distracting, sufferable. Utterly weakening that she felt numb. the numbness was good; she felt nothing. Her vision was covered by thick, warmblood even though the rain carried a lot of it away. And the last thing she saw was his name carved neatly in his gravestone.

Here lies Arden Curter.