Bellona's POV
I never was alone all my life. Every time I turned around she was there. Even if I said something had it been funny, intelligent, and witty. She always listened.
Miranda was always independent; always mature one in the crowd. She knows who to trust and who to be casual with; but to her school was for work, she always finished early.
I was different. I had friends, but I always ditched them for her, and she was coming over for homework help. We used to hang out at the mall; I recall her buying me a lollypop.
"Miri…I'm so hungry…"
"You shouldn't have used all your money for those shoes."
"But they are shoes! I couldn't help myself."
"I know. Wait here."
"Okay…"
"…"
"Here you go…"
"A lollypop?"
"Snack on that until we get home."
"Do I look like a kid?"
"No, you look like a cute little girl out in the mall."
"Hey!"
We argue and we laughed about that lollypop.
Miranda was always intelligent. No one thought that a woman likes Miranda has a soft side.
There was a time that she used to cheer me up, after a guy stood me up.
"Don't look so sad." She poked my nose and embraced me close, brushing a stand of my dark brown hair away from my face. I sniffed dejectedly and buried my face in her chest.
"Let's watch a movie." She put the movie on and joined me on the couch. She wrapped her arms around me, and once again a buried my nose in a crook of her neck.
They'd known each other all their lives and when one was sad, or crying thy used to cuddle every time.
I remember when she got in a fight with her dad. I come over with a pack of ice cream and a movie set.
"This movie is dumb" Miranda said for the third time glaring at the screen.
"Don't be such jerks," I wrap my arms around her torso and hug her close. "I bet you're tired," I say as her arms encircle my waist and her head lolls to my shoulder.
"Maybe," She murmurs with a tiny sight as her body relaxes in my arms.
"Everything will get easier in the morning Miri. I promise." I kiss her on the head as she goes limp. By the next morning everything is better.
For me the hug was a simple gesture – affection, perhaps the fragile beginnings of love. The arms that held her were soft, yet strong. The feel of her body so close used to soothe her more than she had expected.
I used to stroke her long black hair, the warmth of being with another human being and being happy made me want forgiveness even more. We have always been through together, since day one.
When had I fallen for her? Was it the red dress she wears on my ceremony? Or was it the flowers?
No it was that kiss, a kiss on the cheek.
To most, a kiss on the cheek would be a sight of a friendship, or a polite way to greet a stranger. But to me, simple as it may be, a kiss on the cheek is a special in its own, unique way.
It was on my 21 Birthday.
There was music and dancing, crying and laugher.
As she leans fore word my pulse raced. Looking in her eyes I saw deep pools of blue displayed her soul. Her lips touched my cheek. My hearts come to a halt. My breath caught in my throat. A hot blazing fire pulsed through me. My cheeks painted themselves rose red. She pulled away silently, but our eyes locked, sharing our feeling.
Then I understood. I was in love.
I was in love with my best friend.
The first though was "something must be wrong with me…"
When the first time she went to a doctor, she understood she didn't like them.
The first one was too skinny.
When he talked, she wanted to block his words right out but the nurse and Miranda was looking and she didn't want to appear rude.
"Is there anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable?" My fist curled under the blanket. I knew why I hated him. He was just like that guy she'd dated back in school. Untrustworthy filthy liar.
When we were left alone in the hospital room. She turned to me, looking at me.
"How are you feeling?" She would ask.
"Don't worry, I'm fine." I always use a forced smile on my face.
"Tell me if you're in pain."
"I will." But I never did tell her. Never will.
Being a spy, they always see deferent. I had discovered the unpleasant reality. I been hurt, threatened, manipulated, shot at, beaten up, and almost killed. Yet, I had a light to lead me home. That light was my best friend that always waited.
Being chased was nothing like the movies we used to watch. The truth was far removed from that pretty version of running to save your skin. My face is flushed red and my expression is just a pure panic. But my heart pounds, sending blood to my muscle.
"There she is! Get her!"
I could hear them, shouting, my heart beats faster and the adrenaline demands I run, right now, do delay. I know if I won't find a transport I'm dead.
I never liked to use guns. Even since my first assassination.
My hands were shaking so badly, the gun slipped right out of them. I didn't see the body, nor where the gun has fallen. No what I was watching was my hands.
I was watching my own pale hands, covered with scarlet blood. I didn't need to kill anyone, I could have used the poison, so why?
A small sob worked it's way out of my throat, my legs shaking, and yet, I never took my eyes off of my hands. My own bloody hands.