Somewhere, Beyond The Sea

[KamiKaze]

The day that would change her life started like any other. Miranda had woken up, taken a shower, changed into her clothes for the day that she had set out last night, and put on her red high heels.

One thing that was notable about this day, though, was Disneyland. It was a nice thing, really; her school had decided to go to Disneyland for the end of year trip. It took Miranda a while, but she managed to convince her parents to let her go. When she had brought it up to them previously, it was very awkward as they debated on letting her see Disneyland.

But she could go now, which was nice. Miranda even looked up some of the attractions that could be seen at the park, and there were some that interested her. It seemed so obligatory to go to the Haunted Mansion when it was dark out. Of course, she wasn't sure if the teachers would allow them to do so.

Miranda surveyed her room for a brief second. She was often indecisive on how to decorate it, so the room was often bare, almost like a guest room. There was a bed, a cupboard, a closet, a desk, and all that, but she had trouble figuring out how to make it truly hers. As a result, sometimes posters went up and sometimes they went down, and so on.

Even with that, it was still going to feel odd, not sleeping in it for a few nights.

She slid her carry-on tote on her shoulder, and drug her suitcase downstairs. Miranda was sure she had everything she needed.

As she took the suitcase downstairs, her heels made a rhythmic sound with the noise of the case gently hitting the steps.

The Millers house was fairly nice, in her opinion. It was plenty big, and her family could afford it. It was as nice as, say, the Montalvos', but it was a good one. There was plenty of room, plenty of nice decorations, plenty of light that came through the house. Heck, they were able to have a decently sized pool.

Miranda placed her things near the door, and went into the kitchen. Pretty soon, she came back with a bowl of Cheerios and milk.

It seemed Dad was up early today, as usual. He had his laptop open at the dining table, typing furiously. Miranda frowned a bit as she placed her bowl on the table, pulled out a chair, and sat herself down.

"Good morning, Dad."

He briefly looked up.

"Morning, 'Randa."

Mornings with her dad were... usually kind of awkward. This wasn't even the first time that he had brought the laptop to the table. Miranda scoured her mind for things to say, and she thought of something.

"Have you seen Mom? I haven't seen her since... yesterday afternoon-"

Miranda cut herself off when she noticed her dad tense up.

"She decided to spend some time away for the week. She'll be back."

His reaction told Miranda the whole story. With a sigh, Miranda reminded herself that she was used to it. It was clear what had happened.

A few awkward minutes as Miranda finished her bowl, the only sound between the two of them being the typing. After she was done, she went into the kitchen, cleaned her bowl in the sink, and remembered that she was planning on bringing some snacks for the trip. She looked in the pantry, and found a bag of beef jerky and four energy bars. Miranda passed the dining table, and slid the food into the tote.

"Planning on going somewhere?"

Miranda looked up, searching her father's face for any sign of a joke. His face was deadpan.

"Disneyland trip."

His face said it all.

"Oh, have fun, then. Make sure you remember what I've told you."

Miranda ran it through her head. Don't spend too much money, don't get sunburnt, don't cause trouble, a whole list of rules. Really, a lot of these things were the sort that go without saying.

"I will."

Miranda picked up her things, and opened the door.

"Bye Dad. Have a nice week."




When she got the chance, Miranda took out her phone and flicked through her list of contacts. When she selected one, she lifted it to her ear and waited for her mom to pick up. Within a few rings, she did.

"Hey 'Randa? How are you?"

"Good. We're about to go take the bus in a few minutes."

With a beat, she added:

"How are things?"

A pause came from the other end.

"You heard from your father, did you?"

Miranda paused as well, then said "Yes. He said you were away for the week."

"Yeah... things haven't been doing so well between the two of us lately."

She closed her eyes tightly. Called it. Really, this sort of thing had been going on for as long as she could remember. They argued. A lot. Sometimes over the littlest things that she wasn't aware could be argued over. This wasn't the first time her mother had to step away from the house for a while.

A thought passed over Miranda, and she asked:

"Hey... should I bring any souvenirs back?"

"Sure, hun. Make sure you get something you really like. It won't be Disneyland without souvenirs, right?"

"What do you want?"

"Hmm? You're asking me if... Miranda. You don't have to get me anything."

"I feel like I have to."

"Oh! Ummmm..."

It was clear that her mom was thinking.

"How about a pair of Mickey ears?"

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Miranda smiled a bit to herself.

"You got it."

"Have fun on the trip, okay? Make sure you take plenty of pictures."

She had packed a camera, so that was easy to do. And at Disneyland, there were plenty of things that could be taken a picture of, really. Maybe she should look into this Hidden Mickey thing.

"I will. I'll talk to you when I get there."

"Bye Miranda."

"Bye mom."

Miranda hung up, placing her phone back in her tote.


Over the next few minutes, Miranda had put her things on the bus, and found a seat near the front. Once she sat down, she pulled out her compact mirror and began checking her make-up.

She had seen lots of her classmates on the bus. Miranda had spotted close to everyone, except a few. She wasn't sure how she felt about the fact that Dolores apparently wasn't going on the trip. It was good because she didn't want to deal with her. It was bad because....

Miranda didn't want to think about that.


But really, a week away from most everything. What more could someone ask for?






Some time later, Miranda would laugh at that mindset.




Her feet were bare, having removed her heels. The waves lightly brushed against her feet, like a dog begging for attention. The sand felt cool, relaxed.

Miranda was never able to go to the beach too often. But she always felt like she would like it. Not today, though. Not today. Really, it was a nice beach. Sparkling blue waters, soft sands, it was like something out of a travel book.

Where exactly did they take them?

Miranda wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer.

Her class? Taken, by some terrorist idiots who felt like they were proving a point somehow. Those terrorist idiots. What did Aurora do to them? Nothing, apparently, beyond being American. Even then, why them? Why her? Why anyone? It boggled her mind.

And she was supposed to kill everyone.

She couldn't do that, could she? Miranda Millers was supposed to be a fashionista, a girl who simply found clothes to wear that looked nice. Sometimes she watched anime, but she wouldn't admit that aloud. Oh, and she was on the track team. She... she wasn't a murderer.

Right?

What about those around her?

Miranda paused.

There were many people she could see playing. So many geeks and outcasts, so many nerds, so many people with a vendetta. There were plenty of options for people who could kill someone.


Especially her.

The realization hit Miranda like the waves brushing her feet, and she gripped the spear in her hand tighter. Of course. Miranda always tried to make herself look good. The right makeup, the right clothes, the right smile, the right wit. All of this were things that would make people like her, right? And yet, people didn't. They thought of her as a bitch, a dull date, a dumb girl, and...

Someone to kill.

Miranda had realized this. It wasn't new news for her. Miranda knew that no matter what she did, someone would dislike her. She could always try to be witty, or attractive, or charismatic, but there was always someone better who did so. She was surrounded by people who would always have something better than her.

As a result, Miranda knew she didn't stand a chance. People didn't see her as someone worth listening to, and she knew that someone, out there, would take the chance to kill her. She tried to hide it, but the disdainful looks people sometimes gave her said it all. Sometimes they would make her feel nervous, but she would usually try to brush it off.

She remembered what Frank had told her in the Runway. It was about how all of her friends would abandon her, or something along those lines. It had stuck with her for a while, and she realized that here, he was probably right.

Finn and Kat, for instance, they would be good friends back home. But who was to say that they wouldn't literally stab her in the back? Who was to say Mara wouldn't shoot her on sight? Who was to say that she wouldn't have someone to turn to?

Miranda knew what she was. Alone.


She was scared of what was to come. She had no idea what to do.

Kill people?

The idea frightened her. She didn't want to kill people. But she didn't want to die either.

Which one seemed better?


The conclusion that she came to after a minute of thought horrified her. She would prefer others to die, than for her to die at the hands of others. It was the only way. It was the only way to make sure she was safe.

Miranda didn't want to die. No one did. But she knew others were planning on killing, and here? She didn't stand a chance.

She knew what she had to do to live. She didn't like it, but it was the truth. Miranda Millers had to become a murderer, even if it meant killing Finn, or Kat, or Mara, or anyone else. It was kill or be killed.

Miranda stared at her bare feet some more, her toes digging into the sand. It wasn't fair. But what did Dad always tell her? Nothing was fair sometimes.

Reality hurt. But so did dying.



Miranda Millers left some time later, putting her running shoes on and grabbing her things beforehand. She didn't want to stick around the beach much longer.

((Miranda Millers continued in Last Days))