Chapter 130
Mireya
Play - The Night We Met by Lord Huron & Phoebe Bridgers
My name is, Mireya Vitelli
I wake up again and I’m returning in pieces. My head is heavy and bloodied. I try to move, to say something but there's pain when I shift my face. I notice it, the wounds, the carved mine on my chest.
The room is still here. The projector is off, my hands don’t shake anymore. They’re still here. There’s a page sitting next to me. And a pen. But I can’t stand up. I can’t move.
Chair. Paper. Hands.
I hear him but I don’t hold the words properly. They don’t attach to anything. I try to think and something interrupts it immediately.
My name is—
I stop and try again.
My name is—
I know I know it. I can feel that I know it, but I can’t retrieve it. There’s this shadow, his hands… his hands are on my mouth, I can’t. I can’t say anything. I hear his voice again.
“Write.”
I blink and something changes inside my head. Blue eyes looking at me like I’m still something that can be held together. Like no matter what I am right now, that doesn’t change what I am to him. I blink again and the room is back.
Chair. Paper. Him.
I try to think of something else because thinking about this makes it worse.
I reach for anything. The shell jar is waiting at home.
I see it clearly. I don’t know why that matters right now but it does.
Milo would love it. I remember that. I remember wanting him to see it.
I remember the idea of giving it to him and him being happy.
My breathing stutters, but I don’t notice I’m crying again until my throat tightens.
My name is—
I will try again.
My name is—
I press my tongue against my teeth like that helps me stay here. I can’t come to the cliff yet…
“Write what you saw,” he says.
I hear it properly this time but it doesn’t fully enter me. I don’t understand how I’m supposed to describe that.
Fight. Fight. Again. Fight.
Why am I fighting when it’s too late?
Why am I fighting when it’s too late?
Why am I—
No. I stop it. I don’t want that thought.
"You’re my favorite person ever, Reya."
Hayzel, Hayzel you can’t see me but you’re mine too.
Chair. Paper. Hands.
I repeat it again in my head because it’s easier than everything else.
Chair. Paper. Hands.
Blue eyes come back for half a second and I lose them again.
No, please stay. Please.
Shell jar. Little brother. The keys. The Keys to Damien’s home are still in my pocket.
Home.
I hold onto those names like they are the only things that don’t change shape when I look at them. My name is…
"It’s Mireya," the little girl on the cliff says, "come on, I’m still waiting for you."
He moves closer. A hand near my face. I can’t pull away fast enough. My body doesn’t respond in time. He crouches in front of me, undoing the restraints around my wrists like he has nothing left to fear from me. My hands fall useless into my lap.
My body is heavy. He put something into my blood and now…now I can’t do anything.
He knows I can barely keep my eyes open.
Chair. Paper. Hands.
His voice is low again when he speaks, “You’re going to live,” he says.
I stare at him through the haze, but it’s all dark.
His voice, his face, his words… everything is blurry.
“You’ll leave, and you’ll wonder.” His fingers brush over the scar on my chest before he lets it down.
“You’ll look over your shoulder in every place.
You’ll wonder if I’m here, if I’m watching from across the street, from somewhere you can’t see. ”
I think he’s smiling.
Fight, fight, fight.
“And every time you think you’ve finally gotten rid of me, I’ll come back,” he whispers. “I promise.”
He stands, but before leaving, he puts the blank sheet of paper on the floor and sets a pair of scissors on top of it. Then he looks down at me.
“Do me a favor, Raven hair,” he says. “Make me a star like you did for him. So I can make a wish myself.”
The door closes behind him.
And I stay there. Minutes. Hours. Maybe seconds.
My fingers move to the floor, grabbing the paper, then the scissors. And I press down too hard and my fingers feel stiff.
"I’m with you." Fold again. “Thank you for being the best mom-sissy.”
The edges don’t line up properly. I fix it without thinking and then forget I fixed it and fix it again and again.
Chair. Paper. Hands.
I keep losing the order of things if I don’t say it in my head.
Chair. Paper. Hands.
Something in me keeps switching.
Fight. Stop. Fight. Stop.
I fold again, smaller this time. The paper resists but it gives up after a moment. Everything gives up. Damien’s coming, he will be here soon. He will always be here.
The cliff, go to the cliff.
I try to slow it and it doesn’t respond properly.
The paper feels softer now. Or thinner. I don’t know which is correct. My hand shakes slightly when I hold it still.
Fight. Stop. Fight. Stop.
I need to cut the small piece here and the star would be perfect. "Come on, Reya, I’m waiting for you. We’ll make a wish together." I take the scissors and cut. Again. And again. Deeper. Longer lines. Don’t mess this up, Reya.
Chair. Paper. Hands.
I pause, looking down. Then I see it. Red. The star is stained with red. My grip loosens a little. Oh. I think I failed.
The scissor’s cut again, and I use the red to write on the star. My fingers try to do clear lines and my head thinks safe.
9 1 2 3 2 1
I stare at it longer than I should. I don’t remember writing it but it’s there so I must have. I press it flat again, another fold. Not sure how many there are supposed to be anymore.
I stop and start again because I forget where I am in it.
Blue eyes are in my mind. Memories. Kisses and promises. Damien is coming.
The world blurs again, but I hear footsteps. I think someone is running. The doors open, and Ethan appears. Am I hallucinating?
“Mireya–” he reaches for me. He’s real. He looks sad?
I can’t look at him. I hate him. I hate him so much. He knew. He knew from the beginning, he helped him. He’s my monster’s son.
“Wait you’re bleedin–”
“Don’t.” I shove him away hard, and he stumbles against the table.
Is this my voice? It doesn’t sound like me.
I push myself upright and my legs almost give out. But I force them to hold.
Ethan looks asleep on the ground, there’s blood on his head where he hit it against the table. But I can't care. He knew. He knew and I want to throw up again.
I don’t know where I’m going but I walk. One hand pressed against the wall when the world tilted, the paper star in the other.
I make it outside. The air is cold, and salted with the ocean. I stand there trying to convince my lungs that it’s real, that I’m still here, that it’s still worth the oxygen.
He can’t have control.
I close my eyes and I’m already walking to the cliff.
He can’t.
I look down at my hands, noticing trails of red along my skin, thin marks disappearing beneath my fingers. Where did they come from…
His game. His words. His control.
No. I keep walking. The ground slopes beneath my feet, the house disappears behind me and the ocean opens ahead. My body is begging me to stop. My mind agrees I think… But then I reach the edge and stop.
The water moves endlessly underneath me against the cliffs.
Everything I survived, everything I’ve lost. Everything that kills me slowly. I’m so tired. Deep inside of me, I’m so tired.
My knees feel weak, and for a second I close my eyes.
He doesn’t get to choose.
I hold my little star tighter and stare out at the ocean.
Damien I’m losing it. One last good memory.
For the first time in years, there’s no argument left inside me, no voice telling me to wait until tomorrow and hope that it’ll get better. There’s no future I tried to convince myself to reach.
Can you take me to see the stars again?
I know what I want.
And I can’t let anyone choose for me.
I wish… I wish they’ll always be safe.