The Promise
1913 Words
POV: Rafe
I paused at the classroom door, my hand on the frame, and looked back at Mina one more time.
The dawn light was streaming through the windows now, painting everything in shades of grey and gold. And in that light, I could see her clearly for the first time.
Really see her.
The bruises on her arms that I'd felt in the darkness of our hiding spot. The way her clothes hung off her thin frame like they were two sizes too big. The shadows under her eyes that spoke of exhaustion and hunger. The way she held herself, small and careful, like someone who'd learned to take up as little space as possible.
Something hot and fierce exploded in my chest. Rage. Pure, burning rage at whoever had done this to her.
This was my sister. My twin. The other half of my soul. And someone had been hurting her.
I crossed back to her in three quick steps, and she looked up at me with surprise. I grabbed the notepad from her hands and wrote furiously.
Who did this to you? Who gave you these bruises?
Mina's eyes widened, and she took the pencil with shaking hands.
It doesn't matter.
That wasn't an answer. I grabbed the pencil back.
It matters to ME. Tell me.
She hesitated, then wrote slowly.
The headmaster. Sometimes. And the other children in the slums before I came here. They don't like that I can't speak. They think I'm cursed.
My hands clenched around the notepad so hard the leather creaked. The headmaster. The man whose voice we'd just been hiding from. The man who was supposed to be an educator, someone who protected children.
He'd been beating my sister.
I'm going to kill him, I wrote before I could stop myself.
Mina's eyes went huge and she frantically shook her head. She grabbed the pencil.
No! You'll get in trouble. Please, Rafe. It's not worth it. I'm used to it.
Used to it. She was USED to being beaten. Those three words made me want to break something.
You shouldn't be used to it, I wrote, my handwriting getting messier with anger. You should be safe. You should have food and a real bed and people who care about you.
But I don't, Mina wrote simply. This is my life. There's nothing we can do about it.
I stared at those words and felt helpless for the first time in my privileged existence. I had everything. She had nothing. And I couldn't fix it with money or status or the Sterling name because taking her with me would raise too many questions we couldn't answer.
But I had to do something. I couldn't just leave her here to be hurt.
Come with me, I wrote desperately. Come back to the Sterling estate. We have so many rooms. Father would understand. He's the one who helped me find you. He'd help us figure this out.
Mina was already shaking her head before I finished showing her the words. She took the pencil.
They'd never let a poor mute girl from the slums stay in a noble house. They'd ask questions about who I am and where I came from. We have no answers. They'd send me back here, or worse.
Worse? I wrote.
To an orphanage. Or they'd sell me to a work house. At least here I have a roof and food, even if it's scraps. It could be so much worse, Rafe.
I wanted to argue. Wanted to insist that I could protect her, that Father would help, that we'd find a way. But looking at her thin face and the resignation in her silver-grey eyes, I realized she was right.
She'd lived in this world for eight years. She understood how it worked in a way I never could from my mansion and my privilege. And she was telling me that taking her with me right now would only make things worse for her.
I felt useless. Helpless. Furious at a world that had given me everything while giving her nothing, when we were supposed to be equals. Two halves of the same whole.
I hate this, I wrote. I hate that I can't protect you. I hate that someone hurt you and I wasn't there to stop it.
Mina's expression softened. She took the pencil and wrote for a long time.
You're here now. That's what matters. For eight years I thought I was completely alone. That the empty feeling in my chest was just something wrong with me. Now I know I'm not alone. I have a brother. A twin. Someone who understands what it's like to be silent. Someone who sees me. That's more than I ever thought I'd have.
Reading her words made my throat tight with emotion. She was right. We'd found each other. That was huge. That changed everything, even if it didn't change her living situation.
Yet.
Because I was going to change that eventually. I didn't know how, but I was going to find a way to get her out of this place and somewhere safe. It might take time, but I'd do it.
I wrote my next words carefully.
We'll meet every week. Same time, same night. I'll bring you food and medicine for your injuries. And we'll figure out a plan. Maybe not today, but eventually. I promise you, Mina. I'm not leaving you here forever.
She read my words and tears started streaming down her face again. But she was smiling, just a little. She nodded and wrote back.
Every week. I'll be here.
I pulled the notepad from her hands and tore out several blank pages, handing them to her along with half my pencils.
Write to me between visits, I wrote. Write everything you want to tell me. I'll do the same. Then when we meet, we can share what we wrote.
Mina clutched the paper and pencils to her chest like they were made of gold instead of simple supplies I could get more of anytime I wanted. The gesture made my heart ache.
How could we be twins, two halves of one soul, when our lives were so completely different?
I reached out and took both her hands in mine. In the growing light, I could see we were exactly the same height. Exactly the same build, though she was far too thin. Looking at her was like looking in a mirror, and I wondered if this was what I would have looked like if our positions had been reversed.
If I'd been the one pulled to the eastern bank instead of the western one.
Thank you for finding me, Mina wrote with one hand, keeping the other clasped in mine.
I'll always find you, I wrote back. No matter what. We're supposed to be together. The universe separated us, but it also gave us a way back to each other.
She nodded, and we stood there holding hands as the sun continued to rise. I needed to leave. Father would be covering for me, but there were limits to how long I could be missing before someone noticed.
But I didn't want to let go of her hand. Didn't want to leave her in this terrible place with that awful man who hurt her.
Mina seemed to understand. She squeezed my hands one more time, then gently pulled away. She gestured toward the door and the window, telling me without words that I needed to go.
I nodded reluctantly and started toward the door again. But before I left, I turned back one more time and wrote something quickly.
You're not cursed. You're not broken. Anyone who hurts you is the broken one, not you. Remember that.
Mina's eyes filled with tears again as she read those words. She nodded and pressed the paper against her chest, right over her heart.
I gave her one last look, memorizing her face in the dawn light. My sister. My twin. The missing piece of me that I'd finally found after eight years.
Then I forced myself to leave, slipping out of the classroom and down the hallway. I made it out of the school building and back through the slums without being seen. The sun was fully up now, which meant I needed to move fast.
I ran all the way back to the Sterling estate, my lungs burning and my legs aching. By the time I reached the gates, I was sweating and exhausted.
The guards looked surprised to see me coming from outside the estate so early, but they let me through without comment. I headed straight for the servant's entrance I'd used to leave, hoping no one important had noticed my absence.
Father was waiting for me in the hallway near my bedroom. His face was tight with worry, but he relaxed slightly when he saw me.
"You're safe," he said quietly, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "Did you find her?"
I nodded frantically and pulled out my notepad, writing quickly.
Yes. Her name is Mina. She's my twin. We're exactly alike except she's a girl and she's been living in poverty. Father, someone's been hurting her.
Daemon's face darkened as he read my words. "Where is she now?"
At a school on the outskirts. She works for the headmaster in exchange for a place to sleep. He beats her.
"Does she want to come here?" Father asked.
I shook my head and wrote more.
She's afraid they'd send her away if they knew she was from the slums. She has no papers, no family. It would raise too many questions.
Father sighed heavily. "She's probably right. But we can't just leave her there if she's being abused."
I promised I'd go back next week. I'm going to bring her food and medicine. And we're going to figure out a plan to get her somewhere safe.
Father read my words and studied my face for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly.
"Alright. I'll help however I can. We'll figure this out together." He paused. "How do you feel? Now that you've found her?"
I thought about it and wrote honestly.
Like I can finally breathe. Like the empty hole in my chest is starting to fill. But also angry that she's been suffering while I had everything. It's not fair, Father. We're supposed to be equals.
"Life is rarely fair," Father said gently. "But you've found her now. That's what matters. And we'll make sure she's taken care of." He put his hand on my shoulder. "You should get some sleep. You look exhausted."
I nodded, but I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. My mind was too full of everything that had happened. Meeting Mina. Seeing the bruises on her arms. The way she'd hugged me like I was the most precious thing in the world.
I went to my enormous bedroom with its comfortable bed and expensive furniture, and all I could think about was Mina in her storage closet, probably already scrubbing floors again.
I touched my chest where that pulling sensation had lived for eight years. It was still there, but different now. Not an ache, but a connection. A thread tying me to someone who was miles away but closer than anyone else could ever be.
My twin. My other half.
And I was going to protect her, no matter what it took.
- Writer
