22 January 2019
My school ended early because Mrs. Campbell had a horrendous fever, apparently. I am not the sadistic kind, but like an ordinary teenager dismissed from school a little earlier than usual, I was ecstatic. I rushed to tell Ava to meet me in the park later in the evening so we could give some attention to our old and neglected friend, ‘The School Gossip’.
As soon as I reached home, the air felt a little incompatible. The main gate to our villa was open and unattended. Duh! It never happened in the nine years of our stay here. Nevertheless, Hannah Montana says, “Everybody makes mistakes”, so I disregarded it. I began lingering and loitering, thinking about all the time in the world I would have.
As soon I stepped in with my soiled and muddy shoes into the home, I was shaken to the core. My eyes captured the most petrifying and appalling sight of our home. Fear struck, and my heart started beating so fast that I thought it might pop out any second. The couch was lying lopsided, the television screen had cracks that were unfeasible to count, and the glass crockery was broken into pieces that anyone could use to rip apart a soul or two.
Within a matter of a few seconds, I could feel my hands getting engulfed in sweat. I screamed for my Aunt Violet, the one who had taken care of me since I was three. The lords of heaven have always been a little upset with me for reasons I don’t know about. My mother passed away when I was too young to recollect faces. Maybe that’s why I have trouble coping with my emotions. They say children learn to express themselves emotionally through their mothers. Very evidently, I lack in that department. My father, Dylan Miller, has little to no time because the jewels empire devours all his time. The price one pays for being the daughter of one of the most prominent people in business in Washington, DC. The last time I met him was probably four months ago, on my birthday.
My inefficacious attempt to comprehend what happened was gradually coming to a dead end. I searched for every corner of the house, but neither Aunt Violet nor any servant was to be found. I hastily called dad several times but received no response.
Suddenly, I heard some noise from the terrace. I sprinted towards the terrace and it took me a few seconds to fathom that Dad was standing there. For some uncanny reason, he looked a little pale. I hurried towards him.
“ Dad, I called you a hundred times! What happened here? Why can’t I find anyone?”
“Mariah, you are seeing me after four months. Cut me some slack, please. Aunt Violet and all the servants have a holiday today. They all desperately need it.”
“Oh god! I was so terrified. But what about the house?”
”I can’t answer anything right now. Just know that I came here to tell you that the next time you will see me will be two years later.”
“What? This can’t happen. Dad, where are you going?”
“I have commitments that I can’t turn a deaf ear to anymore. Anyways, it’s a beautiful place!”
“I will miss you.”
I hugged him so tight because two years is a long time, and I had to compensate for all the hugs of those two years. I didn’t even know when I started to feel drowsy and after a few minutes, dozed off. That was the most tranquil sleep I had ever had. The peace I felt was unmatched in every sense.
7 February 2021, The Washington Post
Two years after Dylan Miller was shot dead, her daughter Mariah Miller succumbs to her injuries.
Mariah Miller, the one and only daughter of late businessman Dylan Miller passed away on Sunday evening in sleep. On 22 January 2019, Dylan was assassinated, including eight others in the house. Mariah was shot but dealt with extreme health complications for two years.