I turned around, dismissing the girl's words. Her reasons for breaking into my store might be more powerful than I can imagine; her love for her brother likely knows no boundaries. The artifact she's daring to gamble her life over could spell endless sorrow for her, as it did to me a long time ago. Only I understood what this artifact is capable of doing. The laughs and tears of happiness it brought into my life are not worth the amount of despair her heart will harbor for the years to come. It really doesn't matter what her reasons were, I had no intention of allowing her to have it.

"Leave now, or I'll be forced to alert the authorities."

As a flash of lightning brilliantly lit up the store, the girl's identity became clear. Observing her more closely, I recognized her as a frequent visitor to the store.

"Makayla? Why are you doing this?"

The girl hiding under the stairs is a familiar face among my customers in the store, often browsing without purchasing anything. She has a knack for unusual and rare items and an expensive inclination that doesn't align well with her light pockets.

"I am sorry Sam, I really am."

I notice a great deal of regret pouring out of her eyes. She is not strong enough to steal my artifact, yet she stands in front of me, ready to accept her punishment.

"You thought you could just walk in, and take anything away from me?"

"My brother, he is terminally ill. If I could get the artifact and grant him one last chance to live longer, I will do whatever you ask me to do."

I look at the young girl with disappointment. "I can't give it to you," I said, looking away. She took a step closer to me now that she understood I would not cause her any harm.

"Why not?" she asked, her question followed by a blinding light.

"Because it does not belong to me. I can't give you something that is not mine."

Her approach continued steadily, halting only at the ominous rumble of thunder.

"Please, this is my last chance to help my brother. I can't let him die; he's just twelve years old."

In her eyes, I saw a desperate plea, a feeling I once was familiar with, but chose to bury it deep within my heart. It took me back to a time in my own life, a hauntingly similar ordeal, except that I had been the one walking in death's shadow.

"I'm truly sorry about your brother, but there's nothing I can do for him. Nobody can — not even you."

"The women at the orphanage said you went through something similar in your youth. They said you've kept the artifact hidden from everyone."

"It's not hidden. The owner doesn't want you to have it." I began gathering the fragments of the broken vases, carefully placing them together, hoping that my apparent disregard for her presence would dissuade her from further pursuing the matter.

"I thought it belonged to you, at least that's what the old lady said." She reaches down to the floor, helping me gather the broken pieces.

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"My only possession is my life; a life I sometimes feel I don't deserve. You should head home, kid. There's nothing here for you."

The moment I turned; rain streamed into the store through the open back door. Moving quickly, I pushed the door shut, only to discover the doorknob was missing.

"This is your doing?" I asked with a wry smile. "So much for a quick getaway."

Makayla, drenched from the rain, removed her wet scarf from around her neck and quickly tied the door to the metal frame using the hole where the knob once was.

"I know it's not much, but I promise, I'll come back to clean up the mess," Makayla said, rubbing her hands together after they'd been chilled by the freezing rain.

Observing her closely, I noticed blood trickling down her arm from a long cut just above her elbow. I approached her and carefully took hold of the injured arm, intending to assess the wound.

"You are bleeding—This needs to be fixed immediately," I said, leading her towards the stairs. "Come upstairs, I have a first aid kit in the pantry."

Makayla hesitated, clearly torn between her own well-being and her quest for the artifact. "It doesn't matter what happens to me. Please, just help me save my brother."

I paused at the first step, turning around to face her.

"You don't get it, Makayla. It doesn't work that way. The instrument you are looking for, it can't be taken and used for selfish reasons."

"But why? Why can't I use it to save my brother?"

"The reason is simple; you cannot interfere with the cycle of life. What you're seeking would only prolong your brother's pain. The artifact isn't something that can be taken; it must be given."

Makayla came closer, looking straight into my eyes. "If you can't give it away, then who is?"

A powerful lightning illuminated the store, as I continued my way upstairs. I stopped for a moment, analyzing the answer to her question.

"Death itself."

Once upstairs in my living quarters, I gathered a few candles and a box of matches. I lit the candles and placed them around the living room, casting a warm glow amidst the stormy darkness. Digging through my pantry, I found an old first aid kit I had acquired from a hiker a few months back. Makayla, still gripping her injured arm, stands near the door.

"Please, have a seat on the couch. Let's take care of that wound."

With a gentle grip, I took her hand to carefully examine the injury.

"I am sorry I destroyed some of your antiques, Sam."

She watched me intently, perhaps expecting a different reaction. However, I disregarded her words, my attention was fixed solely on her injury, rather than some shattered vases in the store.

"Did you even know what the artifact looks like? Did you have any idea what you were searching for when you entered my secret room?"

"The old ladies at the orphanage only refer to it as a writing instrument. When I entered the room, it was empty."

Her admission confirmed what I already suspected. A young girl like her, healthy and full of life, would never be able to see the artifact she is looking for.

"You wouldn't have been able to find it. It's not something visible to someone in your state – you're young and healthy, far away from the finish line. I'll patch up your wound for now, but you should see a doctor for a proper check-up. The cut isn't deep, but it's going to bring you a lot of pain."

I gathered peroxide, some towelettes, and gauze to tend her wound. As I prepared to clean the cut, Makayla closed her eyes and winced in anticipation.

"Come on, Makayla. You had the audacity to break into my store, but you flinch at the pain of a small cut on your arm? This is a minor price to pay for the choices you've made."

She opens her eyes and looks at me with determination.

"Fine, do it," she said, bracing herself.

I applied the peroxide-soaked towelette to the cut, gently dabbing it several times.

"That should help prevent infection. You need to go to the hospital in the morning to get it properly treated. With this storm showing no signs of receding, you might have to spend the night here."

She nods lowering her head. I noticed the shame in her eyes, the regret of her actions overwhelming her emotions. Sooner or later, we all have to answer for the decisions we make in this life.