Chapter 1: Rock bottom

Miracle's POV

When I was five years old my brother, Xavier and I were attacked by a group of rogue wolves and my father, the hybrid prince was given a choice - Save my brother or save me.

He chose my brother and I was taken.

Dad was sorry.

it was an impossible choice, he said.

It was a split second decision, he said.

He chose the child in imminent danger, he said.

I understood but it didn't negate the fact that he didn't chose me.

it was months till he was able to look me in the eyes....and he never forgave himself for it and boy! Could that mess up a child in ways that that was unexpected!

I knew it then and I know it now that if there was ever a choice between me or some else, I'm screwed.

I always get screwed!

I felt someone's hand on my face.

"Ira…open your eyes. Come on, open your eyes"

I knew that voice. I would know it anywhere.

It was sweet and it caressed gently like a doting mother, the voice was low and it resonated with worry and undeniable care…at least, I thought so.

It's probably in my head.

My eyelids fluttered and they opened right up, the first thing I saw was his baby blue eyes and the bridge of his nose.

His lips were curled and his eyes twinkled just a little bit as he stared down on me intently.

"There you are, sweet thing. I thought I lost you there for a second" Steve's voice echoed.

I watched him. Steve Jackson, my boyfriend of two years.

his voice was smooth…okay maybe not too smooth but it was laced with worry, his tensed posture told me as much.

I tried to sit upright but the raging headache was a good motivator to sit still.

I blinked.

My lips were dry and I was very thirsty.

"I feel dizzy" I declared.

"It was a nasty fall, Ira, you hit your head on the sink. The paramedics are on their way"

I stared at him.

"I didn't hit my head because I was clumsy. You shoved me and I fell" I interrupted him impatiently.

"Sorry" his voice was short and curt.

I was quiet. I stayed down and stayed quiet.

"We should talk, Ira"

"About what?" I asked him and pulled myself up, declining help from him.

"Are we to talk about how you left our anniversary dinner to come make out with some girl in the bathroom, Steve? Are we to talk about how you shove me to protect her or how I am on the floor bleeding to what I think is my death?"

When I talked about bleeding he looked aways briefly.

"Dunno" he whispered.

It was always one word answers with him…always a shrug, always an almost argument with him.

"Why her?" I asked him. "Is it because she's rich?"

"It doesn't hurt that she is but it's because she doesn't need me…not like you do"

I felt my heart squeeze.

Needy?

That's a horrible word to hear from a man you spend two years of your life loving unconditionally. It's not a word a girl wants to hear from a man she would gladly lay down her life for.

Needy…it's such a nasty word to say to a girl slowly bleeding out on a dirty bathroom floor.

"Last month, when I was out of town and I phoned you numerous times and they all went to voicemail, were you with Lisa in our apartment?" I asked him.

"Yes" he answered simply.

I exhaled.

I felt the need…no, no I hate that word now, I felt the intense urge to be anywhere but here.

Anywhere but this moment watching the man I love answer questions that was potentially ruining my mental health with such ease that made puking very desirable right about now.

I watched him.

How is this easy for him?

I would go to hell and back…and I mean literally before I hurt him the way he was hurting me right now.

I could never stand by idly while he was in pain without doing something to levitate that pain.

How many times did I put aside my heartache and my own pain to tend to his own?

Even now, all I can think of is how incredibly difficult it must be for him to stand there and answer all of these questions I am asking.

Even now, I am more worried about his feelings than my own.

What does that make me?

A fool perhaps?

A bloody joke of the biggest proportion.

An incredibly stupid buffoon with low self esteem and an incredible affinity for more fucking stupidity!

God! If stupid was a person, it would be me!

"How long? How long, Steve?" I asked him.

Maybe if I got more information, I would hate him.

I would hate him even if it was a little bit.

"Almost a year"

My breath caught in my throat. A year…a freaking year, are you kidding me!

Are you shitting me right now?!

This must be just an awful nightmare I am going to wake up from.

A year!

That's half of the time we were together.

Author's note:

A word For Miracle