Friend or Foe
Mira lay sprawled on the cold floor, her breaths coming in broken, jagged gasps. Her whole body trembled, slick with sweat, her palms still pressed hard against her skull. The echoes of her scream still clung to the air, vibrating in her ears like a phantom sound.
Her vision swam. The television continued to drone in the background, the reporter’s voice a dull hum she could no longer follow. On the screen, Sophie Langford’s face lingered beside the suicide note she had never written.
Mira forcefully dragged herself up slowly, gripping the side of the wheelchair for balance. Every movement was heavy, as though the memories that had just come crashing back weighed a hundred pounds each. She slumped into the chair, chest heaving.
Her lips trembled.
“Mira is Sophie… Sophie is Mira… then I’m both. They wanted to kill me and make it look like a suicide, but she saved me.”
Tears blurred her vision, and she quickly wiped them away. “I must let her know quickly that my memory is back and I should return home,” she said, but quickly wiped the thought off her head, shaking it. “No… Talia mustn’t know,” she whispered under her breath, as if the walls themselves were listening.
Her heart raced and she trembled out,
“What if she’s one of them?”
The voice inside her sharpened, accusing. “What if saving me was only a step in a bigger plan? Isn’t it too much of a coincidence that she just happened to be there passing by right when I was pushed off that cliff? Especially at that late time? What if she’s their Plan B? What if she’s meant to win my trust, get close, get me to lower my guard… so she can finish the job later? And here I am, the stupid one, falling in love with someone who could be my enemy.”
She immediately clutched her chest, torn between dread and longing. “But then why… why does my heart…” she whispered, pressing her fist against the ache in her ribs. “Why does it feel like a part of me really wants to doubt her and take her as an enemy, and the other part of me aches whenever I think of doubting her or taking her as an enemy?” she said, clutching her chest tightly. Every time she thought of Talia’s steady hands pulling her from the cliff, or the way she fussed over her medicine, her pulse betrayed her. It beat too fast, too hopeful that she was a friend, not a foe.
She shut her eyes tight. “No. Stop it. Don’t be weak, don’t be soft. Until you get the answer, you can’t be soft.”
Her breath hitched, and she forced her trembling hands flat against her lap. “Until I know the truth, Sophie Langford stays dead to the world and I will stay as someone with memory loss. To her, Mira will be the only one she sees. Until my doubt is clear, she will never see Sophie Langford.” Her voice shook, but her words carried a vow.
She bit down on her lip, hard enough to sting. Pretend. Smile. Act like nothing has changed. She must never know I remember. Not until I’m stronger. Not until I can stand again and have the strength to fight them all.
…….
Later that evening.
The door clicked open. Mira flinched, jerking her head toward the sound.
Talia stepped inside, carrying two heavy bags of groceries. Her workout hoodie clung to her frame, strands of damp hair sticking to her temples. “I’m back,” she called lightly, setting the bags down on the counter.
Her eyes flicked toward Mira almost instantly. “You look pale. Are you alright?”
Mira’s heart skipped, panic swelling in her throat. She forced a weak smile. “It’s nothing. Just… a headache.”
Talia frowned, looking caring. “Are you sure? You look like you’re in real pain should I take you to the hospital?” she said as she rushed forward, trying to touch Mira’s forehead with her back palm.
“I will be fine, not too much to warrant going to the hospital. Just a slight headache, and I took my medicine already,” Mira said as she slightly pushed her wheelchair backward to avoid Talia’s touch.
Talia stood there looking at her, pulled her chair back, worried and surprised by Mira’s sudden change toward her. She said nothing but instead started digging through one of the bags and pulled out a small box. “I picked up your vitamins. Oh and I got you something else.” She reached again, this time holding up a sleek new phone. “Figured you’d need one. You can’t stay cut off forever and so you won’t get too bored.”
Mira blinked at the gift, her chest twisting. Why would an enemy… buy me a phone? Groceries? Medicine?
She murmured a thank you, hiding the tremor in her voice.
Talia stood there for a minute, looking at her and wondering why she was suddenly just too cold toward her. Then she finally went to the kitchen to make dinner.
That night, Mira’s gaze followed Talia everywhere how carefully she cooked, how she portioned food onto her plate, how often she glanced at her phone. Every move was under silent scrutiny.
Is she putting something in my food?
Is she texting someone about me? Reporting I’m alive?
She didn’t even dare to eat her dinner until Talia ate hers first.
She kept studying her eyes.
Yet the same eyes that accused her also softened helplessly every time Talia leaned down to adjust her blanket, or spoke with that quiet tenderness that made Mira’s heart flutter.
The battle raged inside her suspicion against affection.
The woman who might be my enemy is the same one I… like.
Later, when Talia retired to her room, Mira wheeled herself into her own, shutting the door softly behind her. Talia had wanted to help her in, but she refused bluntly.
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring into the dark. Her hands trembled as she clasped them together, her mind spinning.
“I wonder what happened… to Mr. James, my driver that night. Did they kill him and replace him with the killer driver, or could it be that he is also part of the plan? No wayyyyy…” she said, shaking her head furiously. “Mr. James has been my father’s friend before his death. He is just like an uncle. I didn’t think he would be part of that. I just wish he is alive and okay.” She paused and continued, “Whoever the mastermind is, and whatever his or her motive, I have to stay and heal here first, be okay, then I will tackle him to death and find out who he or she is.”
And then, as if sealing it with a vow, she breathed the words that would define her next move:
“If Sophie Langford must remain dead to survive… then dead she will be until we draw them all out and find out who the mastermind is and why he did it.”