Story Author's Note: Here are the basics for how The Lost Chapters works. Each chapter focuses on a single major character from The Final Battle and Pushing Through, although many chapters contain more than one character. The exception is the final chapter, which will focus on the group as a whole. Every chapter will start with an author's note that will tell you when the chapter takes place and which character it focuses on, as well as how I came up with the chapter's contents. I want to stress that all of these chapters are 100% canonical to The Final Battle's and Pushing Through's universe. Each chapter is an independent story, and they all take place at various points in time. The chapters are ordered chronologically.
Chapter Author's Note: This chapter takes place roughly five years before the events of The Final Battle and focuses on Miranda Candor. She is my favorite character that I've ever created, and it hurt me terribly to kill her in Pushing Through. I wish that she could have had more time to shine in that story, but at least now you may get another look into her past and how she became a warrior and survivor.
Ten year-old Miranda Candor sat cross-legged on her bed as the sun's first rays streamed through her bedroom window. She had been surrounded by complete and utter darkness for so long that even this most infinitesimal of light burned her eyes. Both of her eyelids slammed shut, and she immediately regretted the action. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since she had last slept, and opening her eyes proved nearly impossible. She felt her mind shut down as she seemed to melt into her bed, but sheer willpower brought her back. She snapped her head up, shook it hard from side to side, and gripped the knife in her hand tighter.
A moment passed, and Miranda let out the tiniest of sighs. This started an irreversible chain reaction. As the breath left her lungs, she felt her strength dwindle as well. She began to shake; her fingers first, then both hands, then her arms, and then her entire body began to convulse as her eyes burned once more. Tears were the cause of her pain this time, and she could do nothing to stop the raging river that poured down her cheeks.
She cursed herself for being so weak. An entire year had been spent this way, being a pathetic victim instead of a warrior. A year of sadness, a year of being an empty shell, a year of her life stolen. She tried to fight against the misery enveloping her. She tried to be hopeful that things would change, she tried to cling to happy memories of her mother, she tried to think of the days when she'd had a true family. That last effort brought his face into her mind, and it was her greatest source of pain that set her free.
The image of her father terrified her at first, but then she remembered what had transpired the night before. She remembered lying on her bed as he walked away, curled into a ball and crying incessantly. She remembered feeling dirty and worthless, nothing but a pathetic toy to be used and thrown away by her father. She remembered wishing that she were dead, and then truly pondering that desire. And then, more than anything, she remembered how that wish had changed her.
Realizing that she no longer cared if she died had been the spark she'd needed. That one simple revelation had shown her why she couldn't let things continue this way any longer. It needed to end, and it could only do so in one of two ways. Either she would die, or her father would.
Miranda felt the tears stop flowing and slowly rose off of her bed. She looked down at the steak knife clutched in her right hand and remembered how it had felt to place its blade against her father's neck. Her eyes involuntarily closed at the pleasure the memory brought. She savored the feeling and felt the joy grow as she remembered his beady eyes popping open and showing nothing but pure fear. Then, as soon as the joy had appeared, it vanished at the thought of how she had failed to slit his throat.
She growled while tossing the knife onto her bed. She stared at the weapon and then at the tear drops on her blanket. She narrowed her eyes and swore that she would never falter again. From this moment on, she would do anything it took to survive.
Miranda nodded in resignation. She had had a year of self-pity. Now it was time to change. What she had done to her father was a start, but only just a start. She clenched her tiny hands into fists and thought of what she needed to do to keep herself safe.
Her father was much larger than her. The only reason he hadn't overpowered her the night before was because she'd surprised him. There was no way she would be able to defend herself against him if he ever truly tried to kill her. Miranda's eyes darted to the four colored belts hanging over her bed. She walked closer and studied them. She had always loved karate, ever since she'd started four years ago. She knew she was good, but nowhere near good enough to fend off a grown man.
No more self-pity, she angrily reminded herself. If she wasn't good enough yet, then she'd have to improve. She gritted her teeth and nodded at the belts. From that moment on, she swore she would do everything she could to be the best fighter she could be. She would be sure that if her father ever wished to harm her, she would be able to stop him.
Coming up with the first step of her plan gave her hope. She stared back at the knife lying on her bed and slowly approached it. It would take time to learn how to defend herself. Until she was ready, she'd need an extra edge. She cocked her head, slowly knelt down on one knee, and truly studied the weapon before her. It was small, only a few inches long. She ran her finger over the blade and noted how dull it was.
"Pathetic," she angrily huffed. If she couldn't win a fight, then she needed to prevent one from happening. The only way to do that would be to scare her father. The steak knife had worked the night before because she'd caught him off guard. If she was to instill fear in her enemy, she needed a worthier weapon. She briefly considered a gun, but immediately shook the thought aside. It would be nearly impossible for a ten year-old to obtain a firearm, and she'd never been fond of them in the first place. She glanced back at the four belts on her wall and studied them once more.
She needed a weapon that would complement her training; a strong, terrifying weapon that she could fluidly wield. She didn't know exactly what she needed yet, but she was getting there. Miranda nodded once more. I need to train, and I need to find a weapon. Two steps of her plan were already laid out. She glanced at her closed bedroom door, then at her bed. She felt her eyes twitch in fatigue and angrily shook her head to wake herself up.
After threatening her father, Miranda had stayed awake the entire night. She'd watched the door incessantly, never taking her eyes off where her father could burst through at any moment. She thought of how tired she was and knew she would never be able to stay up another entire night.
"He can't get in," she angrily told herself. She needed to find a way to keep him from getting inside, or at least wake her up if he tried. She slowly looked around her room and finally settled her gaze on her bookcase. It was small, perhaps three feet tall and two feet wide. In spite of its size, it was still relatively heavy. She walked beside it and pushed against it. She found it difficult, but not impossible to move. She gritted her teeth and shoved it forward with all of her might. The piece of furniture began to slide across the floor, and she smiled in relief. It wouldn't be pleasant, but she could block her door with the bookcase while she slept and remove it when she awoke. Even if her father could manage to get the door open, the act would surely make enough noise to wake her.
Miranda took a few steps back and realized all that she had accomplished. In less than twelve hours, she had nearly killed her father and come up with a plan on how to keep herself safe. She nodded in satisfaction and scooped the knife off of her bed. There was just one thing left to do.
Miranda quietly made her way down the hallway and slowly opened her father's bedroom door. She could only stomach a quick glance in his direction, but that was enough to confirm that he was asleep. She gripped her knife tight and tiptoed towards his dresser. She saw his wallet lying on top of the bureau and quickly opened it. She took all the money out before angrily tossing it aside. She quickly exited his room, flipped through the fair-size roll of bills, and marched into the bathroom.
Miranda gritted her teeth in agony as she entered the shower. The scalding water sent waves of pain coursing over her body, but she forced herself to stay under the cleansing stream. She wanted to burn every remnant of her father's touch off of her. She grabbed her bar of soap and raked it across every inch of herself. Everything that her father had tainted, everything that she had been for the past year; she wanted it gone. She wanted it burnt and scraped away and wished to see it spiral down the drain.
She had no idea how long her shower had taken, but the sun had fully risen when she slowly stepped out of the tub. She glanced at her naked body and saw that it was entirely red. She allowed a small smile to cross her lips and quickly threw her pajamas back on before storming back to her bedroom. She could hear her father snoring behind his closed door and clenched her teeth in fury as she passed it by. She quickly changed into a tank top and shorts, shoved her father's money and her keys inside a pocket, and then made her way downstairs.
She hurriedly ate a bowl of cereal and a granola bar as she thought of where she could get the weapon she needed. The only place she could think of was a store in the Furrow Plaza. She furrowed her brow in frustration while angrily tossing her bowl and spoon into the sink. The plaza was at least four miles away, and it wasn't as though she could ask her father to bring her.
Miranda angrily shook her head and dug her nails into her palms in disgust. Stop being weak, she chastised herself while grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. If she had to walk four miles, then so be it. She needed to get in even better shape anyway. As soon as she stepped outside, she noted the clear skies and realized the mild warmth would soon turn into a searing heat. "Get moving, then," she ordered herself while strolling away from her house.
Two hours later, Miranda gasped for breath as she approached the plaza's entrance. The sun had risen and now rested directly above her. Her legs were shaking wildly, her mouth felt as dry as a pile of sand, and her vision had begun to blur. Her wattle bottle had long ago been emptied and angrily flung aside. She struggled to make it another twenty yards and finally collapsed onto an unforgiving metal bench.
She lay on her back and felt every muscle in her body throb in pain. She closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath before immediately regretting that action. Her already overwhelming fatigue had multiplied over the course of her journey, and she knew that she wasn't going be able to fight sleep any longer. She cursed herself for her stupidity before succumbing to the darkness.
She had no idea how long she'd been unconscious when the nightmare woke her. She'd had hundreds of horrible dreams over the past year, but this was the first time she was grateful for their appearance. She felt her father's fingers force their way in between her own and she saw herself crying on her bed as he gave a meaningless apology, yet it was the memory of that first night, the first time she'd heard her bedroom creak open, that terrified her more than any other. As she watched her father sit beside her and gently stroke her hair, she heard the words that had accompanied the destruction of her life.
"Miranda, trust me."
Miranda's eyes shot open and her pupils shrunk to pinpoints as she rolled off of the bench. She hit the ground hard, but she knew she had to stop it from happening again. She forced herself to keep rolling and shoved her body off of the ground. She desperately looked around for a weapon, any weapon, as she could sense her father coming after her.
As she felt the sun beat down on her and saw the stores all around, she slowly realized that she was safe. Her ragged breathing slowly steadied and she blinked as her pupils steadily expanded. She stared back at the bench and then the flattened grass that she had rolled onto. She kept her curious gaze on the ground as she realized that she had never woken up like that before. When her nightmares came, she always awoke to find herself clutching her teddy bear and crying. Today her first instinct had been to fight back and survive. She considered this for a few seconds before allowing herself a satisfied nod and a small smile.
Miranda shook her head hard to rid herself of sleep before walking across the plaza. She quickly bought a bottle of water from a lemonade stand and gulped it down. The cool beverage coated her dry throat and strengthened her resolve. She continued on her way and narrowed her eyes as she spotted her destination.
She'd been inside Soul Haven only once before, three years prior. Her mother had begun to prefer incense over candles and had dragged Miranda and her father inside the strange establishment. Miranda scowled as she remembered how frightened she had been inside the store. Everything had seemed so strange and ethereal. As she stepped through the painted glass door, she couldn't help but shiver as she saw that nothing had changed. "Stop it," she growled while straightening her back and walking forward.
Miranda kept her eyes narrowed as she glanced around. Strange rugs hung off of the walls. Suits of medieval armor filled one corner. In another rested religious supplies for worshipping deities she had never heard of. She passed by a counter of incense and quickly glanced at a glass case filled with tiny animal sculptures. As she neared the back of the store, she clenched her teeth tight and nodded. She'd come to the right place.
The entire back wall and rear counters were filled with various weapons. Steel maces, samurai swords, ceremonial daggers, combat knives, and countless other deadly instruments lay in front of her. She blinked several times in awe before shaking her head and scowling once more.
"Can I help you?" a friendly male voice rang out. Miranda's head shot to her right as a slim man of about thirty came out from a back room. He stared at her for a moment, looked around, and then gazed at her with newfound curiousity.
Miranda couldn't open her mouth to answer. She felt her heart beat faster and harder and couldn't keep from staring down at the ground.
Miranda had not always been so quiet. In the days when her mother was still alive, when her father had loved her in the proper way, she'd been normal. Yet after that first night that her father snuck into her room, after being treated like an animal, she couldn't help but feel as though she had become one. For a year she had spoken only to herself. Miranda clenched her hands into fists and remembered how she had spoken to her father the night before, how she had threatened him. If you can do that, you can do this, she angrily told herself.
"Um, miss, are you okay?" the clerk gently asked.
Miranda felt her hands shake harder and she slowly took in a deep breath. She felt her eyes widen and her throat burn as bile rose up. She forced it down, bit her lip, and opened her mouth.
"I'm…fine," she whispered. She clenched her palms tighter and tried to steady her breathing. Stop acting like this! she screamed inside her mind. She gave a tiny nod and felt her right eye twitch. He's the animal, not you. Do this.
Miranda forced herself to lift her gaze off of the floor. She saw the clerk stare at her in concern, and she tried to look into his eyes. The act proved impossible, and her pupils darted sideways of their own accord.
"Where are your parents?" the man quietly asked.
One's dead, and I wish the other was. The words raced through Miranda's mind, and she considered saying them aloud. She forced herself to keep her thoughts to silent and dug her nails deeper into her palms. Don't scare him. You need the weapon.
It only took a second to think up a convincing lie, but it took much longer to say it aloud. She took in another deep breath and glanced back at the man's shoes. "They…they're shopping," she struggled to say. She swallowed hard and tried to ignore the way her stomach seemed to be painfully twisting into knots. "I…came here…to wait."
The man's gaze remained curious as he leaned against the wall behind him and crossed his arms. "I don't see too many kids in here." He shrugged and moved away from the wall. "Just don't break anything, okay?"
Miranda nodded and heard the man walk away into the backroom. She let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes. She couldn't believe she had just spoken to someone. She felt another twinge of pride but forced it down. I still have work to do, she reminded herself while approaching the first counter.
She looked at the items on the wall first. There were so many weapons to choose from. She eyed a two-meter long wooden staff and cocked her head curiously. She saw the words Authentic Japanese Bō written underneath it and scowled. If she'd wanted to threaten her father with a stick, she'd have walked the two minutes from her house to the park.
The array of medieval weapons caught her eye next. The mace looked incredibly deadly and painful, but was too primitive for her tastes. She wanted a more exquisite tool, something that struck fear with its beauty. The battle axe was a slight improvement, but she doubted she could lift the thing over her head. She stepped closer as she spotted the shurikens and stared intensely at them. They were beautiful and no doubt deadly, but she was sure it would take a great deal of time to learn how to throw them properly. She needed a weapon that she could wield immediately.
Miranda shook her head and stared at the long glass case in front of her. Several different exquisite swords rested inside. She looked at the broadsword and once again realized this was a weapon she wasn't strong enough to wield. She spotted the katana and move her face closer. It was beautiful and didn't seem terribly heavy, but the blade was over two feet long. She gave a small sigh as she realized she needed something still smaller. The next counter held a wide array of knives, and she glumly approached them.
She stared at the dozen weapons before her. They all seemed so small and pathetic. They were exquisite to be sure, but nothing seemed to inspire fear in her. She spotted a trio of eight-inch knives and read the small sign in front of them. They were throwing knives. She looked at them for a few seconds, realized she found them immensely interesting, and then remembered why she had abandoned the shurikens. She sadly decided that she would come back for them in the future.
Miranda was on the verge of giving up when she spotted it in the far corner of the display case. Her eyes widened and an amazed grin appeared on her face. The knife before her was undoubtedly the weapon she was searching for. It was small enough for her to easily wield but large enough to appear threatening. The beautiful brown handle made the knife a work of art. But it was the crooked blade that truly set it apart from everything else before her. It was so unconventional and mysterious that it sent a shiver down her spine. This weapon was to be hers.
She looked up to find the store clerk staring at her. He gave an amused smile. "Find something you like?"
Miranda swallowed and balled her hands. "I want that knife," she steadily said. The words came out so fluidly that she couldn't believe it was she who had spoken them.
The man chuckled and walked over to her. He stared down at the display case and gave her another playful smile. "It's not a knife. It's a kukri," he corrected.
Miranda scowled and stared back down at the blade. "Ku-kri," she whispered. She loved the way the word flowed on her tongue. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on the weapon as the man continued speaking.
"It's a Nepalese weapon," he began to explain. ". The handle is pure water buffalo horn, and the blade is carbon steel."
Miranda pondered his words as she continued staring at the kukri. "Why…is it bent?" she slowly asked.
The man leaned forward and stared at the weapon more intensely. "The curved edge makes it fall faster when you swing it. Plus, you don't have to turn your wrist towards your enemy when you stab forward."
Miranda gave a tiny nod, and the man pointed at two much smaller knives beside the kukri. "It comes with these. They're called a karda and chakmak. You use them to keep the kukri sharp."
Miranda lifted her gaze upwards and found she was able to look the man in the eyes. "I'll take it."
The man's expression once more belayed curiosity as he took a step back. "Kid, you've got to be eighteen to buy this."
Miranda scowled and immediately cursed her stupidity. She glared angrily at the man and felt her blood begin to boil. "I'll…" she swallowed once more and struggled to form the words, "I'll give you…all I have," she offered while pulling out her father's roll of bills.
The man pulled back in shock and stared at Miranda incredulously. "Where did you get all that?" he asked.
Miranda narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. "It…doesn't…matter," she stuttered out. "I want it."
The man continued to stare at her before finally shaking his head. "Kid, where are your parents?"
Miranda felt tears burning and immediately spun around. She ran out of the store before the man could say another word and didn't stop as she barreled across the plaza. "Stupid," she moaned while running. "Idiot!" she shouted while racing by a couple holding hands, who eyed her in concern.
Her legs started to burn and it became harder to breathe, but she didn't stop until she'd exited the plaza. She realized that the sun was descending towards the horizon and that its rays were getting dimmer. She collapsed onto a bus stop's bench and buried her face in her hands as sobs racked her body.
Miranda wondered how she could have been so stupid. Thinking that she could change her life, that she could escape her father's tortuous hold. All of her efforts, all of her hope, it had been for nothing. She couldn't get the weapon she needed. Her father wouldn't fear her. As soon as she got home and fell asleep, he'd make her pay for what she'd done the night before. He'd kill her. Or worse, he'd let her live and continue her torment.
Miranda continued to cry as the sun kept falling. She was hungry, tired, and miserable. Her legs ached, and she still had four miles to walk in the dark. Her life was filled with nothing but pain and despair. She finally lifted her head up and watched the cars race by. Maybe it would be best just to step out in front of one, to let it all end in an instant. At the very least, it would deny her father the satisfaction of being the one to kill her.
Miranda sighed and slowly walked towards the curb. She watched the vehicles race less than a meter away and realized how simple the act would be. Just one step forward and it would all be over. She clenched her hands into fists and lifted her right foot in the air. "I love you, Mom," she whispered as her eyes began to burn once more.
Miranda struggled to move her foot forward and found it impossible. She squeezed her fists tighter and tried to move her shaking leg, but it just wouldn't budge. Her eyes shot open and she glared at the stubborn limb. She began to breathe fast and hard and finally slammed her foot on the ground before spinning around.
"Fuck!" she screamed as loud as she could. She'd never said the word before, and she was amazed at how good it felt. She took a few deep breaths and roared, "Shit!" Her eyes darted around and she felt her fists loosen. "Shit! Damn it! Son of a bitch in hell!" she roared while feeling fire race through her veins.
Miranda felt like an uncaged animal, the same way she'd felt the night before when she'd held the knife to her father's throat. She liked the feeling a hell of a lot more than the ever-present sorrow she'd had to deal with for a year. She liked being in control. She refused to let the feeling fade.
Miranda backed away from the curb and stared back at the plaza. She needed the kukri, but she couldn't buy it. That left two options. The first was to steal it. Miranda narrowed her eyes in frustration as she discarded that idea. The thought sat wrong with her, and more importantly, if she was caught all her work would be for nothing. Her father would become aware of her plans and forever put a stop to them.
The only other option she could see was to find someone to buy the weapon for her. She bit her lip hard as she thought of the best way to accomplish this. She had quite a bit of money, but she'd learned the hard way that not everyone could be bought off. She needed someone desperate or stupid. Miranda nodded at her logic and stared up at the sky. The sun was nearly set. The store would surely close soon; she didn't have much time. She balled her hands into fists and turned back towards the plaza, only to freeze in place.
For the first few months after her mother died, she had wondered why such a horrible thing could happen to a good person. Yet even through her pain, she'd carried hope that there was a purpose for her mother's death and her own misery. That hope had disappeared once her father's torment had begun. Miranda had quickly concluded that there could be no higher power, for if there were, how could he stand to watch an innocent girl suffer so? Stealing her faith had become yet another of her father's crimes. Yet as she saw the two idiots walking towards her, she felt a shift in the cosmic balance. After all of her misery, it appeared that something good might happen to her after all.
The two young men couldn't be older than twenty. One grasped a bottle of beer, and the other held a suspicious brown paper bag. Both were laughing obnoxiously and heading her way.
"Dude, there's no way Ashley would ever get with you!" the first man loudly shouted.
The second drunk rolled his eyes and gave his friend a playful shove. "Wait and see, bro. Wait and see!"
Miranda eyed the two morons with contempt and angrily marched towards them. She felt her heart race and her hands tremble as she realized that she would have to speak to them, but she managed to bury the majority of her fear. You can do this. Miranda gave herself a tiny nod and slowly cracked her neck. Be strong. Miranda swallowed and stopped in front of the teenagers. She slowly lifted her head up and looked into their eyes.
"I…need…your help," she managed to say.
The young men looked at each other in confusion. "Um, are you lost?" the first man asked. Miranda noted some genuine concern in his eyes and cocked her head slightly in response.
"Mark, we've got a bus to catch," the second idiot huffed while wobbling on his feet.
Miranda swallowed and looked deep into Mark's eyes. She squeezed her fists tight and straightened her back. "I…I need you to," Miranda narrowed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek hard. You're better than this. Just talk! Miranda gave a tiny nod and squeezed her fists. "I need you…to buy something for me," she managed to say.
Mark raised an eyebrow and asked, "Um, what?"
Miranda raised a slightly trembling hand and pointed at the plaza. "There is a," Miranda paused to take a breath, "store called Soul Haven." Miranda swallowed once more and slowly pulled her father's money out of her pocket. "I want you to," Miranda hesitated for a few seconds, "buy the kukri inside."
The nameless imbecile widened his eyes as he stared at the money. "Holy shit, dude!"
Mark stared at the money intently before staring at Miranda. He switched gazes between the two a few more times before asking, "What?"
Miranda scowled in frustration. "The kukri!" she snarled. "Buy it for me!" She felt adrenaline course through her veins and found her words coming a little easier. "Keep whatever's left."
"I'm on it!" the cretin shouted, and Mark shoved him back while keeping his gaze fixed on Miranda.
"What the hell is a kukri?" he asked the girl.
"A knife," Miranda shot back. "Just get it for me," she growled.
"I'm not buying a knife for a kid," Mark said while crossing his arms.
Miranda had had enough. She was getting sick of having her hopes raised only to have them continuously dashed. She didn't know what game the universe was playing with her, but she was done with it. She shoved the money back in her pocket, clenched her hands into fists once more, stormed towards Mark, and kicked him in the right shin as hard as she could.
"Damn it!" Mark screamed while dropping to one knee. "What the hell?" he shouted in amazement.
Mark's friend burst out in laughter. "Holy shit, you are freaking awesome!" he happily exclaimed while wobbling slightly.
Miranda turned towards the imbecile and pulled the money out once more. "Go to the store," she said through gritted teeth. "Buy the kukri. Give it to me."
The man grabbed the wad of bills and flipped through them. "One, two, three hundred dollars!" he happily shouted.
"Can we just get to the stupid party?" Mark angrily asked while standing up and glaring at Miranda.
Mark's friend shook his head and smiled at Miranda. "In a minute, man. This is the easiest money I ever made." With that said, he spun around and walked towards the plaza. Miranda followed right behind him and watched carefully to make sure he didn't run off with her money.
"Screw this," Mark said with a wave of his hand while heading towards the bus stop.
"So get the...the..." the man began while approaching Soul Haven.
"Kukri," Miranda growled.
"Sure, sure," the man agreed while heading inside. Miranda stopped in front of the door and scowled before taking a few steps back. She cracked her neck once more and narrowed her eyes as she waited for the moron to return. Five minutes passed, then ten, and Miranda began to wonder if she'd made a mistake. Then the teenager burst out with a wide smile and a large shopping bag.
"Kid, you are awesome," he said while handing her the bag.
Miranda's only response was to snatch the bag from his hands and storm off. She felt her heart race once more, but now the cause was excitement instead of fear. She felt her hands begin to tremble as she opened the shopping bag and looked inside. She couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her lips as her kukri stared back at her.
You did it. The words shot through her mind of their own accord as she found a secluded spot in the plaza and took a seat on the ground. She gently pulled the sheathed kukri out of the bag and examined the beautiful handle. She gripped it tight and slowly drew the weapon. The blade seemed to reflect rays of moonlight up at her, and she gently ran a finger across its razor sharp edge. She found that the slightest pressure drew a thin line of blood. Her smile grew at its appearance.
Miranda grasped the weapon tightly in her right hand and held it out in front of her. The transformation was amazing. She felt in control, deadly, and confident. She rose to her feet and marched towards the plaza's exit.
Miranda knew that her path wouldn't be easy. She would have to remain ever vigilant. She would need to train every second of every day to become the strongest woman she could be. A single mistake could spell death or worse, so she would not make any. She would need to replace her fear with determination, her pain with confidence, and her sadness with fury. As Miranda began her long walk home and left her old life behind, she knew that she had what it took to survive. Now it was time to prove it.