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There was no destination as Mirabel fled their ruined casita.
She just ran, sprinting between the cracked mountain and disappearing into the woods with little direction, never wanting more than to be alone-to bear the failure and avoid the disappointing confrontation that the family would have for her.
Her lungs ached, but she didn't know whether it was the sobs that tore her throat or that she had been running for what felt like ages.
Darkness loomed over the sky, mostly hidden by the shadows of trees and leaves. Thundering clouds boomed and resonated the earthly soil, rumbling underneath her moving feet, but she didn't halt-didn't catch her breath even though she was lacking oxygen in her body.
Mirabel didn't stop.
She felt like a small, speck of light, dimmed and lost, trekking aimlessly along with the dirt that held no paths-no direction of where to go. However, there was little care. She didn't care that tears were shedding from her eyes, or how the wind whipped her hair in the air.
The minor scratch marks and bruises were disregarded.
Her mother and other family members desperately calling her name went ignored.
Still, she pursued the bleak forest.
And the only reason she had ceased running was when her eyes began to blur, black dots appearing in her vision. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, throbbing with searing pain.
Mirabel inhaled deeply and exhaled, emitting ragged gasps and sobs despite how overwhelmed her frame felt.
Words and sentences pierced her soul and drilled into the most inner parts of her spirit.
Had she hurt her family so much that her Abuela had firmly stated it? Had tío Bruno left because of her? Was she destined to live a lonely life, walking a path where no one would or want to follow?
She thought she was doing it-saving the miracle, and yet, their casita collapsed and their gifts were gone.
It was all her fault.
My fault. My fault. My fault.
Mirabel clutched at her head and bent forward, hearing the blaming words echo in her mind like a mantra. A wordless scream ripped from her mouth, rivulets of fat tears running down her dusty cheeks.
Her fingernails dug into her scalp, penetrating the skin and allowing blood to emerge from the welting wound. She fell to her knees, every limb and joint heavy with remorse and regret.
The bones inside her protested every movement, but she couldn't seem to stop, too immersed in her shame and guilt that weighed like a boulder on her spine, threatening to crack under pressure.
She choked on her sobs, barely pushing any air into her depleting lungs and grating her dry throat from massive heaves.
There was nothing for her-nothing.
Useless.
So, so meaningless.
Light rain began to drizzle the area, noises of splattering raindrops hitting against the thin leaves around her. She could care less about the rain drenching her clothing and washing away the salty tears that stained her face- she stayed there, underneath the rainy clouds and allowing for the cold to seep her shirt and skirt before it made its way to her skin.
The ground beneath became damp and soft, her knees gently sinking into the earth. The balance she had crumbled from exhaustion, and Mirabel fell onto her side, curling in a fetal position and hugging herself.
Her cries were muted by the soft thunders that rolled across the sky-ignored and forgotten like after all those years of being giftless.
"Mirabel!"
Julieta felt her frame slump dejectedly as she saw nothing but grassy fields and surrounding trees, swaying along with the delicate current. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, biting her lips to prevent a sob from escaping.
It had been less than twenty-four hours and they were still searching for her.
They still couldn't find her baby.
She cupped her hands around her mouth and called, "Mirabel!"
From a distance, she heard birds chirp and the flapping of their wings in reply, but no noise of her daughter could be heard. Her heart constricted, the familiar feeling of helplessness and guilt warping her being again as Mirabel's voice resonated within her mind.
Julieta further went into the forest, feeling her skin-pop with goosebumps as she went underneath the shady leaves and continued searching.
I will never be good enough for you, will I?
Her breath hitched, shaking her head.
"You will always be enough for me, Mira," she whispered, not noticing that a teardrop rolled down her cheek.
No matter how hard I try.
"You have nothing to prove, mi mariposita." She clenched her eyes shut, the image of her madre conjuring in her mind. "She didn't need to prove anything to us- to you-" Her voice broke off, bursting into tears instead before falling to her knees among the grass, covering her face within her hands.
Over and over, it came, the emotions hanging over her shoulders and whispering words of regret and shame into her ears. She should've defended her-she should've done that years before that whenever her daughter was shunned to be a shadow in their family.
To Isabela and Luisa as well, who were falling under pressure that they were never meant to bear.
You should've been a better mother, the menacing voice whispered.
Tears spilled between her fingers, shoulders shaking from the ragged sobs that tore her throat, raw and pained. Was this her punishment? To lose a daughter-to be felt as an inefficient mother from not defending her daughters? Had she failed them so badly?
Maybe you deserve it.
Abruptly, Julieta tilted her head up to the sky, tears glistening under the sunshine, and opened her mouth wide: "Mirabel!" she wailed, vocal cords stretched and wore thin as she screamed her daughter's name.
The wind moaned softly, leaves and branching bumping and rattling against each other.
"Lo siento, lo siento mucho," she repeated between heaving cries, wanting nothing more to just wrap her arms around Mirabel and never let her go. She had already experienced losing a child and then her hermano- she couldn't lose another person she loved so dearly.
Just as when she was about to force herself up to resume searching for her lost Mirabel, she heard a faint gasp, the wind carrying the sound to her ears. Her neck whipped so hard to the side that it cracked, eyes widening in shock when she heard the familiar noise.
"Mirabel?" she called out, desperate and longing. "Mirabel, mi vida, please come out."
Scrutinizing her sight, Julieta scanned the area-
There.
Between two thick trunks stuck out Mirabel's bouncy curls, a single eye peeking out, gleaming beneath the rays of the sun.
"Mirabel," she breathed, quickly standing onto her feet, inching forward. However, she froze when her daughter tensed behind the trees, mouth quirked apprehensively, and backed away.
She had to hold in a gasp upon the state Mirabel looked: dark rings appeared underneath the skin of her eyeballs, some strands of curly hair matted with blood and skirt and frayed, dirt spots all over the girl.
The heart within her ribcage broke at the sight of her little girl looking ever-so lost and scared-
Then, it occurred to Julieta.
She was afraid of her. It was the brief eye contact they shared before it was gone, disappearing behind the soft locks of Mirabel's hair.
Swallowing the lump that formed in her throat, eyes shimmering once again with tears, she spoke as tenderly as her voice could convey. "Cariño, mi corazón, it's okay-I'll get you patched up and-and we can go home-"
In an instant, Mirabel's pupils expanded, chocolate brown irises fading behind it, and head shaking. The girl backed away slowly and Julieta crept closer, distraught at her daughter's actions.
"Pequeña, por favor, no hay que temer-"
Mirabel didn't let her finish, instead, she pivoted her heels sharply and ran.
Her mother screaming for her name echoed throughout the forest, but Mirabel kept scampering away from her.
She wasn't ready to face her. She wasn't ready to face any of her family members. She wasn't ready to see the disappointing facial expressions they would be wearing or the anger in Abuela's features-no- she wasn't ready.
Mirabel had only awakened from her madre calling her name over and over again before she realized how close her voice was. She had hid behind two trees, watching as Julieta cried and sobbed, yelling out her name.
For a brief moment, she wanted to run to her mamá but caught herself from doing so. Her mother would not want her anymore...not after being responsible for losing everything.
What was there to lose if the loss wouldn't be herself?
She was not the loss; the loss would be their gifts and their casita-she was not their grieving loss.
So, she ran, to be lost instead.
At one point, she stopped to catch her breath, chest heaving, and lungs greedy for air. Distantly, Mirabel could hear the shouts of her name from Julieta, coming closer and closer.
When she heard rustling, she resumed back to running, knowing very well that her mother was in near proximity. Despite her senses hollering for her to turn around and seek out her mamá, she ignored them; fear winning over instincts.
She sprinted past a clearing, the sun's light brightening as she was no longer under the shade of the forest, but approaching the sounds of running water that entered her ears.
Before Mirabel knew it, she was at the edge of a riverbank, feet halting as she let out a gasp.
Its rough currents splashed against the rocks and walls of the waterway violently, murky and deep from last night's rain. Her eyes flickered across the river, then to any other direction to escape, but there was nowhere else to go.
She was cornered.
"Mi amor, stop!"
Mirabel jerked at the voice, body turning around to face her panting mother. For a person who was fifty years old and running after her, she had to admit that it was pretty impressive.
"Please, mi mariposita," Julieta pleaded-begged between her gasps of air, a few teardrops leaking from her downturned eyes. Mirabel swallowed the lump forming inside her throat, shuffling backward when her mamá reached out with a hand. "We can fix this, Mira, we can do whatever we can-just-please come home."
The desperate tone in her voice filled her body with guilt, but she couldn't appease her wishes; no matter how much she yearned for comfort, she couldn't come back-she would only make matters worse.
"I-I can't," she choked out, shaking her head, feeling her own eyes glimmer with tears when Julieta's facial expression crumbled with devastation. "I destroyed our home, and your gift, it's all gone." She planted her hand onto her chest, her aching heart beating erratically underneath. "All because of me."
Julieta shook her head fervently, face screwing up as she straightened her body and arm falling to her side. "No, no, none of this was your fault-"
"Yes, it is!" Mirabel shouted, voice breaking when a sob bubbled out. A steady stream of tears ran down her cheeks and fell from her chin. "I did this! I made casita collapse! Your gifts are gone! I couldn't save the candle!"
"Mirabel," Julieta strained, but she kept going.
"I tried to make our familia proud, I tried, but I couldn't-"
"Mirabel!"
She stopped upon hearing her mother's risen voice, blinking in shock and mouth gaping open. Her madre had never been the one to raise her voice, only when necessary and for rightful reasonings. And when she did, it was resistant and firm.
Julieta's chest was rising up and down, body leaning forward and hands balled into fists, a look of frustration and hurt on her face.
"None-" she heaved. "None of this was your fault: our casita, our gifts, the miracle, everything- this was not your fault and I will not just stand there as I watch mi hija contradict herself when she doesn't know how much of a miracle she really is to me."
Mirabel's lips wobbled, a faint shiver going through her frame. The finality in her mother's voice was firm and unyielding, bursting with truth and love.
"Mirabel, mi mariposita, you don't understand," Julieta whispered through tremors. "You don't understand what I had experienced to have you, the trauma of losing a child, my bebé."
In an instant, Mirabel's pupils dilated with shock, air sucking out from her lungs.
"I realised," Julieta started, tears pouring out her from brown irises. "that miracles aren't objects; they're real and beautiful and rare...and when I lost your sibling and had you, I knew that you were a miracle, my milagro, and I won't do it again-" she shook her head, her eyes never leaving Mirabel's form. "I won't lose another-"
There was something powerful, yet so vulnerable in revealing secrets like these, Mirabel recognized. She didn't know Julieta experienced a loss of a child, and she couldn't imagine how utterly agonizing it was for her mother to go through it.
But this felt different. That baby-her sibling was innocent, taken from the cruel, harsh world that would seize anything in its way; that would snuff so much as a pure soul. And her? She was blameworthy of every transgression she had committed- she was not innocent.
Mirabel couldn't be. Not after everything she's done.
Julieta took a step forward, face longing and full of love that it ached Mirabel "I don't care about my gift," she continued. "I care about my daughter and I want her to know that I have never been so proud and that I love her so, so much-"
On instinct, Mirabel took a step backward.
The sounds of soft ground groaning underneath her rang in her ears so imperceptibly that she nearly missed it, but it was too late.
There was a sight shift beneath her feet, and before she could move or panic, she felt a forceful wind brush past her frame and a holler of her name before plunging into the frigid water.
Strong currents pushed her underneath the freezing water, limbs flailing in all sorts of directions and glasses slipping from her face. As soon as her head broke the surface of the river, she gasped for air, coughing when she accidentally swallowed water.
She felt her lungs squeeze out a cry or a scream, not knowing nor caring how loud she was yelling or if anyone was hearing. She kept yelling, kicking her legs wildly underneath her to keep her head up until a harsh tidal wave overlapped over her form, pressing her to the bottom of the river where a sharp object scraped the side of her arm.
Blood swirled around her, mixing in with the river and pain radiating throughout her entire being.
When she emerged from the water, she was choking on water and crying, eyes burning from small, debris particles that slipped inside her eyelids despite her pinching her eyes closed. Her hands grappled at anything that she could find, but each grasp left her fingers stinging with pain.
Upon forcing her eyes to open, everything was a blur, and her ears were muffled by the rushing water, adrenaline coursing through her veins.
However, just faintly, she saw a blue blob chasing after her from the side.
Mamá.
She outstretched her arm towards her, lips parted as she cried out, "M-ma, please-"
The river engulfed her whole again, tumbling in the rushing waters as if she was a leaf through the breezy air. On instinct, she closed her eyes tightly, mouth holding in as much air as her lungs could hold and feet feeling the bottom of the river as it pulled and pushed around her body.
With one harsh swish, Mirabel sensed she was upside down once again, tumbling through the rough streams-
All at once, piercing pain bloomed in the back of her head, and she felt herself releasing all the air from her mouth, limbs growing unbearably heavy, and then-
Nothing.
It had felt like time stopped when Julieta saw the fear- the look of terror- flash across her daughter's face before falling into the cold river bank.
And without even realizing it, Julieta had screamed so loud that birds from afar were alarmed by the sound and flew from the trees. She felt horror fill her frame and she found herself at the edge of the river, right where Mirabel stood, hand outstretched towards nothing but air.
"MIRABEL!" her anguish cries echoed from around the area, but it was deafened by the sounds of wild, overlapping tidal bores crashing into each other.
Her overworking brain heard a splash and then an upheaving gasp, sounding desperate and hoarse. She snapped her neck up and her eyes widened when she saw her daughter in the middle of the river, drenched and struggling to keep her head above waters.
Before she knew it, she was chasing Mirabel down the stream as her daughter continued to scream and shout for help. She looked so small in the river, so helpless as she swung her arms and tried to recover herself from being pushed under the water again.
Her throat tightened as Mirabel's head popped up again with a resounding and difficult gasp. Her frame twirled against the violent currents and for a brief moment, she and her daughter made eye contact.
Mirabel's glasses were long gone and the eyes-her beautiful irises told the whole emotion her youngest was feeling.
Utter fright.
She held out her hand to her and Julieta, naturally, reached out towards her, tears flying by as she continued running after her daughter.
"M-ma, please-" hearing the raw and labored voice, she felt her heart thump against her ribcage, erratic and full of fear.
"¡Ya voy! just hang in there-" Julieta tripped and landed on her stomach, leaving her winded and coursing pain growing within her. She cursed and pushed herself up despite the dull pain and-
"No!"
Mirabel was no longer in sight.
Dread crept up behind her, and Julieta clenched her hands into her torn skirt, chest heaving and eyes inspecting the river with her own trailing down her cheeks
Then, she saw it.
Finally, when the river became calm, Mirabel's body floated to the surface, carried by the large ripples created from the stream, nonmoving and face in the murky water, noticing that it was also tinted with red.
There was an outcry that escaped her strained lungs and her feet moved swiftly until she was in the water, unaware of how the coldness seeped through her body and sent shivers throughout her frame.
Julieta pushed against the heaviness of the water that went up to her waist, hands managing to grasp onto Mirabel's body before it sank. She pulled an arm around her shoulders and treaded back to the shore, her daughter remaining silent and still.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see a faint river of blood from the girl's scraped arm, red and agitated.
"Stay with me, stay with me, amor," she repeated breathlessly with desperate attempts to weave her way through the water.
It had felt like forever when Julieta hauled Mirabel to the edge of the river, nearly toppling over her as they both sank to the rocky shore.
Julieta held back a sob, crawling to her daughter's motionless face and shaking her shoulder in a pleading attempt to wake her up.
Her face was ashen, cold to the touch with a streak of blood trailing down her temple.
There was no response.
"Mi vida, wake up, please-" Julieta choked on her words and half her body straightened, looking out to the wilderness. "Help! Help! I need help-" she stopped short and let out a small cry before hovering over Mirabel's lifeless frame, placing the palms of her hands on the center of Mirabel's chest. She pushed down against her chest and water spurted out from her parted lips.
She started muttering one single verb over and over again.
"Breathe, breathe, just breathe-" Julieta released a strangled, frustrated whine and compressed harder. "I promise, I'll be good-I'll be a good mamá, just d-don't leave me, amor, I beg you," she pleaded despairingly.
Please don't take my baby away.
Tears continued to spill from Julieta's eyes as she continued the chest compressions, mind muddled and too disordered to even think. Every movement- every bone and muscle shifting inside was automatic.
"Julieta?!"
She ignored the multiple and distant voices that were calling out to her that sounded distraught and distressed, all too focused on her daughter. Vaguely, hands pulled her aside and she yelled in protest.
"No, no, no she-she needs me!" Julieta cried out, trying to fight off hands that were tugging her away from her daughter's body. "Mi bebé, mi hija-she's not breathing! Get off me!"
Strong and slender arms wrapped around her shaking frame and the familiar scent of fresh orange peels filled her nostrils. A sob tore through her throat as her eyesight caught Agustín dropping to his knees in front of their child's frame and resuming back to the chest compressions.
She continued to thrash and grapple at the persistent arms that held her from getting to where she needed to be, but it was futile.
There was a sickening crunch that Julieta heard, and then another, and another.
Her sobs died into pitiful, strained weeps, face scrunched from the cries that wracked her entire being. Still, her daughter did not move.
"Don't do this to me," Julieta whimpered, unsure who it was directed to as a rivulet of tears rolled down her face. She squeezed her eyes closed, feeling the pain-the absolute agony soak into her veins and bones.
Not again-not another baby-
"Mirabel!" her daughter's name was howled throughout the sky, erupting from her vocal cords, sounding tormented and grief-stricken.
Gone.
Gonegonegonegonegone-
There was a sharp, jarring inhale.
Then a stuttering gasp and Julieta could barely utter a breath when Mirabel moved and involuntarily threw up water, body convulsing every bit of liquid that trapped itself inside those lungs.
Not a second later, Mirabel let out a gusty, guttural cry-similar to one of a baby's.
It was the most beautiful sound Julieta has ever heard.
All of Mirabel's joints collapsed onto the ground, coughing and wheezing for oxygen.
In an instant, Julieta pried the loosened arms from her waist and slid next to Agustín, hands cradling her cheeks as he yelled for something.
Mirabel's eyes fluttered open, drawing in raspy breaths.
"Mi mariposita," she whispered, leaning forward and touching her forehead with her cheek. "Mi milagro."
Her youngest drew in another difficult, graveling breath, but she felt cold but moving fingers gripping at her blouse, curling and clinging onto her like she was a lifeline.
Like how newborns do during their first moments of life.
"Vas a estar bien, amor," Julieta breathed, she leaned back and watched as Mirabel sputtered and keened with struggle, weak hands still clutching at her. "Te tengo, te tengo."
She brushed away the wet strands of hair from Mirabel's face and stroked her cheek, biting her lip to prevent another wave of tears from breaking out as her daughter emitted another whimper from the gap of her blue tainted lips.
"C-cold," Mirabel croaked, the corners of her lips trembling. Julieta craned her neck up, exchanging a brief, distressed glance towards Agustín, who was looking just as distraught, before looking down and nodding.
"Okay, okay, we'll get you warm, just-just stay awake-" with little strength Julieta had, she hoisted Mirabel into her arms, cradling as if she was a frail newborn. Goosebumps prickled across her skin, feeling the frigidness of her daughter's skin make contact with hers.
She ignored it, however, tugging her close to her chest.
Julieta sniffed wetly and looked down at Mirabel, unconsciously rocking their forms back and forth in a comforting manner.
"You're going to be okay," she said to her daughter, who remained silent but her glossy eyes were still on her. "Everything is going to be alright, alright mi pequeña milagro? ¿Me oyes?"
There was the barest tilt to Mirabel's head and Julieta released a long-suffering cry of relief, bowing forward to press their foreheads together. Tears flowed out from her eyes and dropped onto her daughter's face.
She twitched but didn't seem affected by it, only drawing closer to her warmth. Julieta didn't acknowledge people passing her and the distant shouts from other people. She didn't heed that a pair of hands started wrapping something around them, enveloping both with heat.
All Julieta was thinking was that Mirabel was going to be okay.
She was so close to losing her-so near to death that, for a brief, excruciating moment, she thought that her daughter would be joining her sibling. Maybe this was a prayer answered, that she was given a second chance-an opportunity to make things right.
The much-needed conversation could wait- everything can wait.
"Te amo," Julieta whispered, clenching her eyelids shut and tightening her hold on her. "Te amo tanto, mi mariposita."
A small, airy hum escaped Mirabel's mouth and she snuggled further into her embrace as a little child would. Julieta briefly kissed the top of her head and returned to touch foreheads again, feeling the soft, hoarse exhale of her baby's breath brushing against her cheek.
She was going to make it.
Of course, Mirabel was going to make it.
Her daughter was a miracle, after all.
Her milagro.