The sky looked like it was about to collapse.
Police lights painted the school in dizzying flashes of red and blue. Reporters were screaming into microphones. Parents were breaking apart in real time. The air was all static, sirens, and shattered prayers.
Then the doors creaked open—and for one gut-wrenching second, everything stopped.
Luna stumbled out first, mascara streaked, her sweater drenched in someone else's blood. Her parents ran like they'd been shot themselves, crashing into her like a wave. Her mother kissed every inch of her face. Her father collapsed to his knees, clutching her like she'd fall apart if he let go.
But it wasn't over.
A second figure appeared, half-dragging, half-staggering.
Zeke.
His face was a horror story. Bruises bloomed across his jaw, his shirt ripped, knuckles raw. He wasn't crying. He wasn't blinking. His eyes were scanning the crowd, wild and desperate.
"Where's Sally?" he croaked, voice broken. "Where the f*ck is Sally?!"
A medic grabbed his arm. He shoved him off. "Don't touch me—where is she?!"
Then—Sally. Pale. Shaking. Wrapped in a scratchy blanket and flanked by officers. They were prepping her for the ambulance like she was just another survivor, another body to be processed.
And then—
BANG.
The world split in half.
Screams exploded from the crowd.
Sally's scream cut straight through.
She dropped to the ground like her legs had vanished. "NO! NO NO NO NO—" She clawed at the pavement. "MAYA?! ZEKE?!"
Zeke turned to her, face crumbling. "I'm here, baby. I'm right here."
Another scream—this time from Luna's mom. "OH MY GOD—WHAT WAS THAT?!"
The police froze. Guns up. Heads turning back toward the school.
"Do we move in?" one officer whispered into the radio.
"No," came the sharp reply. "Vic said one more step and they're all dead."
Sally shoved off the medic trying to guide her. "I'm not leaving them! I'm not leaving Maya!" Her voice cracked like glass. "What if she's—what if she's—" She couldn't even say it.
Inside the school: dead silence.
Then—
A shape crawled into view.
Jackie.
Bloody, staggering, crawling like some grotesque thing born from chaos. The front doors creaked open just enough to spit her out, and she collapsed on the steps.
Gasps rippled through the crowd like electricity.
Mrs. Thompson screamed. "OH MY GOD! IS SHE DEAD?!"
"No, she's moving—SOMEONE HELP HER!"
The paramedics rushed to her side.
Mr. Thompson turned to the police chief and lost his entire mind. "What the hell are you doing?! Kids are DYING in there, and you're just waiting?!"
"We can't go in—he said—"
"He said?!" he roared. "You're taking ORDERS from a KID with a GUN?!"
The chief tried to speak, but the panic was already wildfire. No one could stop it.
Inside—
Three remained.
Maya. Eddie. Vic.
The silence pressed down like cement.
Maya's hand trembled as she took the revolver again, Vic towering over her like a demon on his throne.
"Your turn," he said with a grin.
She didn't look at Eddie. She couldn't. If she did, she'd break.
Eddie's hand found hers anyway. "It's okay," he whispered. "We're gonna get out. Together."
She shut her eyes. So did he.
Vic watched.
Click.
Nothing.
She gasped.
Eyes snapped open.
She was alive.
But she hadn't aimed at Eddie. She'd aimed at Vic.
He saw.
He knew.
And his face twisted into something inhuman.
SMACK.
The slap cracked across the room. Maya hit the ground hard, the gun skidding across the tiles.
"You think you can kill me?" he spat. "You think you're some hero now? You're nothing, Maya. You always were."
Blood trickled from her lip.
"You made me like this," he snarled. "You ignored me. You humiliated me. You turned me into this."
"Let Eddie go," she coughed.
"No."
"Please."
"Beg harder."
Eddie lunged at him. "GET OFF HER!"
Vic grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him into the wall.
Eddie crumpled.
Vic turned back to Maya.
"Pick. Who leaves."
She stared at him, dazed. Her mouth opened. Closed. She didn't want to say it.
"Pick. Or I shoot him right now."
Her voice cracked like a whip. "Eddie. Go."
Eddie shook his head. "No. I'm not leaving you. I'm not leaving you here with HIM."
"Please."
Vic waved his hand, and his cronies grabbed Eddie, dragging him toward the door as he kicked and screamed.
"MAYA! MAYA, DON'T—PLEASE!"
The door slammed shut.
Gone.
Now it was just her and Vic.
He knelt beside her like a twisted priest.
"We're the same, you know," he whispered. "You and me."
She said nothing.
He pulled her phone from her hoodie, wiped it on his shirt, and held it out. "Call someone. Anyone. Let's see who gives a sh*t."
She stared at it. Her thumb hovered.
Silence.
"No one's coming for us," he murmured. "All those people outside, crying and praying—for everyone except us."
He grabbed her wrist and yanked her to the window.
"See? Everyone's here but my parents. Yours too. Isn't that funny?"
He slammed her hand against the glass. "Look. LOOK."
She stared out.
And he was right.
No one for him.
No one for her.
Vic paced like a lion with a thorn in his paw. Wild. Feral. Barely tethered to reality.
"You know," he said, twitching as he talked, "I used to look at you and think, God, she's perfect. The way you walked. The way you laughed. The way everyone f*cking adored you."
Maya didn't move. Her face was blank, but her eyes were steel.
"But you never looked at me," Vic said, his voice cracking. "You looked through me. Like I wasn't even real."
"You weren't," she said coldly. "You were a shadow. Just another angry kid blaming the world for your own emptiness."
He flinched.
"You think this is my fault?" he said, stepping closer. "You think I wanted to be like this?"
"No," she whispered. "But you chose it."
His lip curled. "You think you're better than me?"
"I am better than you."
That struck deep.
Vic's breathing grew ragged. His hands shook. "Don't push me, Maya."
"You want to talk about pain?" she said, louder now. "Fine. Let's talk."
She stood.
Bleeding, trembling, but standing.
"You think you're the only one who's been abandoned? The only one who's felt invisible? Cry me a river, Vic. We've all been f*cked over. The difference is, we didn't take a gun to school to make people notice us."
He blinked. Swallowed.
"I noticed you," he said quietly. "Every day."
She nodded slowly, voice turning razor sharp.
"And I wished I never met you."
He winced.
"And I wish," she whispered, "that someone had loved you enough to stop you from becoming this—this pathetic, desperate little monster who thinks violence is the only way to feel powerful."
That one hit bone.
He looked like she'd punched the soul out of him.
His face crumpled, like a child scolded too hard. His eyes burned—wet, furious, lost.
And then—
BOOM.
He pulled the trigger.
Maya gasped.
Blood bloomed through her shirt like a flower opening in fast-forward.
She staggered back, hit the lockers, and slid to the floor.
Silent.
Still.
Motionless.
Vic stood there.
Frozen.
The gun still smoking in his hand.
"What… what did I—"
He dropped the gun like it burned him.
"Maya?"
He rushed to her, fell to his knees.
"Maya. Maya, get up."
She didn't move.
"MAYA!"
He shook her, harder and harder, panic cracking his voice in half. "No, no, no—I didn't—I didn't mean to—GET UP!"
Her eyes stayed closed.
The blood pooled beneath her like a halo.
Vic pressed both hands to her wound, sobbing. "I was just mad—I didn't—I thought you'd dodge it or—I don't know—I didn't think—I didn't—"
He looked around wildly like someone would come fix this. Like someone could undo it.
But no one came.
Just the sound of sirens outside.
Reality hit him like a truck.
He stared at the blood on his hands.
Then back at her face.
He whispered, "I just wanted you to see me."
And then, slowly, shakily—he picked up the gun again.
Pointed it at his own temple.
His voice barely a breath:
"Now you will."
BANG.
The second gunshot split the night like lightning.
Outside, the air shifted. People screamed. Police flinched.
But Eddie—Eddie knew.
He felt it.
"MAYA!"
He snapped.
He shoved the cop holding him aside so violently the man stumbled. "GET OFF ME—LET ME GO!" he screamed, his throat raw, his voice shredding with panic. He ran.
He ran like his soul was being dragged by fire.
Zeke and Luna were right behind him, pushing past officers, ignoring screams and orders and barricades. Luna's eyes were wild with terror, her hair flying behind her. Zeke didn't even know he was crying until the tears hit his lips.
From the ambulance, Sally was howling.
"No—NO! LET ME GO BACK!" she shrieked, thrashing against the medics holding her down. "SOMETHING'S WRONG! I CAN FEEL IT—MAYA! ZEKE! EDDIE!"
But she was too far.
Inside, the school was dead silent.
The three of them charged down the halls like a storm. Doors open. Lockers dented. Blood staining the floors in ugly trails.
Then they saw the classroom.
And stopped.
Eddie was already inside.
On his knees.
Crumpled over Maya's body like he was trying to breathe her back to life.
"Maya…" he whispered, voice barely human, "Wake up, please—baby, you have to wake up—"
She didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't even twitch.
Zeke gasped like the air had been stolen from his lungs. "No."
Luna covered her mouth, stumbling forward, falling to her knees beside Eddie. "Maya—oh my god—MAYA!"
Eddie was sobbing now, full-body shaking. "Why won't she open her eyes? Why won't she—please, please—"
Zeke grabbed her hand. "C'mon, Maya. Don't do this. You always talked back. You always fought. Fight now. Come on, please…"
Luna started screaming.
No one knew what to say. No one could breathe.
All of them crumpled around her like broken glass.
Eddie held her like she was the last real thing in the world.
And outside, the sirens wailed.
Still no one knew.
If she was alive.
Or not.