Why Miranda Had to [Redacted]

WARNING: This post contains spoilers about the end of Nine Lies Book 1: Weakness. If you haven’t read it to the end, please make sure you do before you read this post. You can read Weakness here.

How did you feel at the end of Weakness when Felix finally defeated Avery only to lose Miranda in a totally unnecessary way?

Why Did Miranda Have to Die?

There are a range of emotions we tend to feel when something like that happens - anger at the senselessness of it, at the fact that it should have been entirely preventable. Shock that the thing we wanted or needed most to happen was so violently ripped away from us. Grief that what we loved is gone forever now and we didn’t have a chance to do or say the things we knew, deep down, we needed to.

The death of Miranda is such a stinging blow, especially for Felix, who has spent his whole life never daring to hope because he’s been convinced that good things are for other people, not for him. Finally, finally, he dared to believe that something good could happen in his life, but her death proved him wrong. It seemed to serve as confirmation of the lies he had been raised on that hope and love are meant for other people, never meant for him.

Some of you may have been downright offended that I would write the end of Weakness that way. So I’d like to tell you why Miranda had to die.

I want Felix to be relatable.

Most of us probably can’t relate to Felix’s particular physical circumstances - and that’s a good thing. I hope none of you out there are actually in the same kinds of situations physically as Felix. But a lot of people can relate to being let down, over and over again, in life.

Letdown After Letdown

You’re so used to being let down that you don’t even dare to hope anymore. But then something happens. Something like Miranda. Something magical enough to make you think, “Maybe this is it. Maybe things have really changed and I can receive love and life like other people, too.” Then you dare to hope - something you haven’t let yourself do in years because you “knew better” - only to be terribly, grievously let down again. That kind of pain is unbearable and brings with it a deep sense of shame: “I knew all along that love was for other people, not for me! I can’t believe I was stupid enough to trust someone or hope again. I should have known better. I knew, I knew, I knew…” A pervasive kind of shame that leads to self-loathing and years of further hopelessness.

My Experience

When I was in high school, I became very depressed. Now, in hindsight, I realize a lot of it was the result of the situation I was in. I lived in very isolating circumstances in which I didn’t feel emotionally safe at home but also didn’t feel like I had options to escape that situation. I watched as people who were brazenly defiant got away with what they wanted and people who tried to follow the rules got punished for accidental slip ups or mistakes they didn’t understand. I learned that only some people were allowed to have opinions and only some people were allowed to do what they wanted. Some people were allowed to make choices and be independent but I seemed to bring more trouble on myself no matter what I did. Eventually I stopped making choices at all, because everything I did came back on me in a bad way. I learned to believe a sea of lies because my experiences had taught me that things like hope and love were only for some people, and I wasn’t one of them.

At that time in my life, when I read books or watched movies about people who barely suffered at all, I found their stories unbelievable. How could I view their victory as any kind of triumph when they had nothing to overcome? They were one of those people everything worked out for. Their stories felt fake to me. That doesn’t mean they weren’t well written, and it doesn’t mean they weren’t good stories. But they were not for me. I couldn’t root for those characters because I couldn’t believe in them. I couldn’t believe in them because their lives didn’t feel authentic to my own experience. My experience was not one where you were rewarded for trusting people in authority. Mine was one where you were punished. My experience was not one where you were rewarded for being yourself. Mine was one where you were punished.

I spent years of my life refusing to hope or believe anything good could ever happen to me because I had been taught by experience that I was not the sort of person good things were for. But then, every few years, something would happen. I would meet someone kind and connect with them, or I would have a shockingly positive experience at church or school, and I would start to wonder if maybe things were different now, if maybe I could hope for more, for things like life and love like other people were allowed to have. Inwardly I would warn myself, “You know how this will end. You shouldn’t dare to hope.” But if everyone else was allowed to have these things, surely I could, too, right? Sooner or later something had to give and I would have to be allowed at least some crumbs! So, against all odds, I would put everything on the line and I would hope - only to be let down or betrayed or mocked for it. And the cycle would begin again.

Hope Instead of Disappointment

Now, in my mid-30’s, I am finally at a place where I can say that hope is absolutely mine, that love is for me and not only for other people, and that good things can, do, and will happen to me. And that’s a big part of why I write. I want other people who feel hopeless like I did to know that there is hope and it is for them, not just for other people. But if I write about somebody who has never dared to hope, who puts everything on the line just this once and dares to believe that maybe, just maybe, hope is possible for him and not just other people, and then…he gets what he hoped for, that won’t ring true to all the people out there whose own experience says otherwise.

It’s Not for Everybody, But It Might Be for You

I’m not writing for people who hope easily or who don’t have a problem believing that good things will come to them. That’s not to say that you can’t still read my books, of course, and it’s also not to say that there isn’t something for you in them. But I’m writing for people who feel hopeless and have given up because your life has told you that you’re not allowed to have what everybody else seems to have received by birthright.

Why I Write About Suffering

I noticed a storytelling void when I was so depressed. There were two kinds of stories out there in most books and movies: stories in which the heroes barely suffered at all, making their triumphs feel too easy and too fake to me, and stories in which the whole point was that life was suffering and that was it. What I wanted and what I needed were stories in which people really, truly suffered but they overcame and came out stronger on the other side. I didn’t want a cheesy story where nothing was too hard and nothing was at stake. I didn’t want a story whose message was “Life is suffering and then you die.” I wanted a story that could help me believe that all my suffering was not in vain, that it was shaping me to be a better person, that I didn’t have to give up because something good was waiting on the other side and all of this was necessary in order for me to step into it.

So those are the kinds of stories I write. They’re not for everyone, and I won’t pretend they are. Anyone is welcome to read them, but not everyone will need them. But someone does, and I’m writing them for that person. If you’ve felt hopeless your whole life, I’m writing this for you.

So what does this have to do with why Miranda had to die?

I want you to know that it is possible to recover from a loss that shatters everything.

If Felix had dared to hope and then received his happy ending with Miranda on the “first try” (or first hoping), his story would feel so fake to those of you who have tried and tried to hope and have felt the doors slammed in your face. Some of you have gone your whole lives without a drop of what you needed to come alive, then you finally dared to hope only to have that hope ripped away from you.

The Nine Lies Series isn’t just one book. It doesn’t end when Miranda dies at the end of Weakness. It goes on.

You, too, can go on. Sometimes healing takes a lifetime, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t possible or isn’t worth it. It is absolutely possible and absolutely worth it.

I want you to know that no matter how much you’ve lost, there is more waiting for you. Your life may have a lot of setbacks and obstacles, but they are forging you into a stronger, better person, and someday you will reap the harvest of your tears.

Psalm 126:5-6 says:

Those who sow with tears
    will reap with songs of joy.

Those who go out weeping,
    carrying seed to sow,
will return with songs of joy,
    carrying sheaves with them.

I hope that seeing Felix recover from the loss of Miranda will help you recover, too.

Don’t give up. Hope is for you!