Chapter 4 A Miracle

Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I couldn't help but notice the state of my disheveled hair and the cut on my brow. Yet, despite these signs of struggle, there was something about my features that seemed carefully shaped, as if someone had crafted them with love. It was a love I had never known, but standing there, I thought to myself that I was pretty enough. Being here was torture,

but it had hardened me in ways I hadn't imagined. I had aced the harshness of reality, and I was learning to be strong. I remembered my first week here like it was etched in my mind. At almost 18, I was supposed to be sent to a juvenile facility, but the way they spoke about my case changed

everything. They labeled me a murderer, someone

Who should be treated as an adult, I would pay for my so-called crime with the loss of my youth, locked away in this grim prison.

The initial days were brutal. The other inmates seized every opportunity to tear me down. I was bullied relentlessly, my body grew weaker, and the constant intimidation left me sick and malnourished. However much it hurt, I realized 1 was learning the strength I needed to survive. There was a particular incident 1 recalled, a moment that felt like an eternity.

Flashback

"Hey, little nimp! What do you want? Are you blind, or have you lost your sight after the murder?" she sneered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Laughter erupted from the group surrounding her.

"Maybe she thought being blind could help her escape," another one chimed in, and we all knew they were mocking my pain.

"We could have fun with her," the one with the wicked grin suggested.

I remained silent, paralyzed with fear

"Are you deaf..or dumb?" the first woman asked, her voice hick with contempt. Before I could muster a response, a sharp slap landed on my face, stinging like fire. I felt my skin split, and before I could even blink, found myself gasping," . " I....I'm sorry. "

"Good," she said, laughter spilling from her lips. "Now you do as I say. I mean, we say." Though she was meant to terrify me, there was something strangely alluring about her-a beauty coupled with a cruel edge. I often found myself wondering what horrors had led her to the same fate as mine.

This was how I fell into the role of a slave for the next month. I learned quickly how to navigate the treacherous haters of prison life. For some inexplicable reason, I grew attached to the pretty lady, whose name was Raine.

Against all odds, she took me under her wing. she showed me basic self-defense moves and offered insights about life that I had never fathomed.

"What are you here for?" I once asked, curious about her story.

'Can't run, can't hide," she replied, a bittersweet smile curling on her lips. "But I'm not as broken as I was before'"

I realized that the torment I faced from her and the others transformed into something resembling mentorship. she taught me to mask my emotions and helped me build strength from within. I learned resilience in this cage that once felt like a tomb.

During this years I took the initiative to build myself and joined the prison school and busied myself with studies . I explored about five potential career paths for my future if maybe i get released before my said date. I had no idea when that day would come. At least I'll survive when I get out. I pray something fortunate happens. I pray I get that miracle now.

I stopped counting the days after five years.

The gray walls, the sour taste of metal and stale bread, the routine footsteps of guards-it all blended into one long, dull ache. For five years, I have swallowed the bitterness of betrayal and worn silence like armor. The name "Zane" still stung like it was carved into my skin. And Ella? Daniel? Even my own father? Just shadows, I swore I would face again, stronger. But not today.

I sat on the cold bench, arms folded, staring as the light flickered overhead. Another wasted hour.

Until keys clinked, and a guard approached, eyes fixed on me like I wasn't just a number anymore.

"Leeward."

I stood slowly, guarded. "What?"

"Pack up. You're being released."

"What?" my voice cracked from disuse. It seems God heard me fast.

"You heard me. Get your stuff. You're walking out of here." I blinked, unmoving. My thoughts sprinted ahead of my logic. Released? Now? Why? "No." My laugh was dry, pained. "This is a mistake. I have twenty more years." The guard's face softened, but only slightly. "It's no mistake."

Still in a daze, I moved, collecting what little I had: a worn notebook, cracked glasses, and the necklace I never took off. My fingers trembled as I passed each gate. Each buzz of the door felt like an illusion breaking.

Outside, the air hit me like a rebirth-cool, sharp, alive. My eyes squinted at the daylight, real daylight. I hadn't seen it in years without bars in the way.

A dark car waited at the curb. An officer leaned against it, arms crossed, watching me carefully. He straightened as I approached, a folder tucked under his arm. "You Natasha Leeward?" he asked. I nodded slowly, heart thudding.

He handed me a paper. "This is your release documentation. You're free. Everything's been settled."

"Settled?" My voice was barely above a whisper. "By who? How?"

The officer hesitated, then gave a tight-lipped smile. "Your mother handled it."

My breath caught. "What?"

He nodded once. "She fought like hell."

My eyes widened. My mother? The woman who vanished after the trial? Who had stayed silent for five years? Before I could form another question, the officer's radio crackled. He turned away. "That's all I can say."

"Wait!" I called after him. "Where is she? Why now-why would she-?" He looked back over his shoulder. "She said you'd find out... soon enough." And with that, he opened the car door and disappeared, leaving me alone with questions that refused to stay buried.