Xeavva

03

I heard footsteps. I turned to the front. A girl, pallid and scrawny, made her way into the room, no shoes, just a white, dress that stretched out to her knees. Her tired eyes scared, considering the fact that I was older and taller than her. When I advanced to her, she cowered back, turning her head away. As I look closer, her dress was made of rich fabric. I opened my lips, "Are you okay?"

 She looked back at me, and we stare silently into each others' eyes. A voice suddenly blared through the hall, it startled me, "Mireille!" The girl bolted to my back. She exhaled a powerful breath, her shivery hands clutched my clothes with hesitance. I looked at her, swallowing the remaining saliva in my mouth, "Are you Mir-"

 "Mireille." Her eyes start to tear up. I crouch down, clasp my hand to her wrist and pulled her to the room. "Let's go." She doesn't hesitate to follow.

The light bulbs that flickered in a demented way had been turned off, leaving Mireille and me in a gloomy room full of chairs and tables. "MIREILLE!!" The resonating voice shouted. I could make out that a group of individuals had come to find Mireille because of the unrhythmic patterned sounds they made with their shoes.

 Mireille then whispered to me, "Jem," and the rest was compromised of hand actions I couldn't understand. When I asked her what she meant, she looked behind her. Her foot was bruised red like a sting from a bee. "Help Jem."

"Jem?"

"Twin."

"Jem is your twin?"

The door shook open. "Mireille, you can't leave just like that. I know you're here." I flinched. He looked to my eyes, curving his brows. He was about to touch my eyes but then, one of his men told him that they found movement in a different room. He looked back at me, who no longer was there and sighed. "I thought I saw a doll."

The door closed, and Mireille turned to me. "Doll."

"What?"

"Doll."

"You heard him say doll?" I asked. Her statements couldn't be understood. "No. Doll. Name, your name?"

"My name?" I said. "Doll? No."

She nodded before heading out the room she said to me, "Lucky. We. Are." Mireille showed the handle of the door. It wasn't locked! I thought check-ups included locking doors to double check the surroundings for the second time.

--

The whole rest of the day, I couldn't stop thinking of Mireille. Something like this was coincidentally rare, especially since a girl like her wouldn't trust someone like me at the sudden moment. I didn't listen to the unofficial teacher who also helped us children with education after we didn't have school ever again.

Still, pondering of such a vulnerable girl made my head strive for information, like a cliffhanger. A story cliffhanger. It always ends badly though. There is no better ending than death. Although the book says 'The End' with a wonderful ending, years afterwards, they would die and their life story would be fulfilled.

Death is a sad story, and everyone believes in happy endings, but do they know that death is their actual ending? Well, thinking deeper into that, there will be their legacy, and that will never stop living.