The shrill buzz of a phone split the quiet of Misha's room. She groaned, dragging herself from the warmth of her blankets. The glow of the screen stabbed at her sleepy eyes.
Sera.
Misha frowned. At 11:30? Her best friend never called this late.
For a few seconds, she let it ring, hoping Sera would give up. No such luck. The vibration rattled insistently against her nightstand. With a frustrated sigh, Misha swiped to answer.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Misha?!" Sera snapped. "I've been calling for five minutes!"
Misha winced, pulling the phone slightly away from her ear. Sera was usually composed, but when her patience snapped, she could be terrifying.
"…Hello, Sera," Misha mumbled, still groggy. "Why are you calling so late?"
"Don't tell me you've forgotten the party."
Misha's stomach sank. "…What party?"
The pause on the other end was heavy, dangerous.
"Misha." Sera's voice dropped, sharp as glass. "You can't be serious. We've been planning this for a week."
Misha fumbled to check the date on her phone. November 16, 2024. The truth smacked her in the face. Tonight. The open hall on the first floor.
"Of course I didn't forget," Misha lied quickly, though her guilty eyes darted to the side. "I was just… joking."
"Uh-huh," Sera muttered. "Well? Did you ask your parents?"
"They said no." Misha's voice flattened. A beat later, softer: "I'll just use the fire escape."
Sera's sigh softened into something less harsh. "They're just worried, Misha. You're their only daughter. Don't take it so personally."
"Mm." Misha hummed without commitment.
"Anyway—what are you wearing? And don't tell me it's that same outfit."
Misha pouted automatically. "What's wrong with it? It's my favorite."
"Everything," Sera shot back. "Just try something different. And hurry—the party's already starting."
Before Misha could argue, the line went dead.
She sat there in silence, staring at her closet. After a long pause, she settled on a dark red shirt, black jeans, and sneakers. Simple, but at least not the outfit Sera hated. By the time she slipped out onto the fire escape, the clock glowed 1:00 a.m. The iron stairs groaned beneath her sneakers, the winter air biting at her skin as she descended.
***
Misha rapped her knuckles against the window of the open hall. The glass fogged with warmth from inside, a sharp contrast to the freezing air outside.
The window slid open, and Sera appeared—dark skin glowing under the neon lights, a cascade of fiery red curls tumbling around her freckled face. Her golden eyes glinted mischievously.
She smirked. "What took you so long, Bubblegum?"
Misha's jaw tightened at the nickname. Sera had given it to her years ago, thanks to her pink hair and blue eyes—straight out of Adventure Time.
"I've been standing here for two minutes," Misha muttered through chattering teeth. "That's your greeting?"
"Serves you right." Sera's grin widened. "If you hadn't taken forever, you wouldn't be freezing."
"Just let me in already."
Laughing, Sera tugged her inside.
The party swallowed Misha whole. Music pounded through the hall, bass thrumming deep in her chest. Lights stuttered and flared, painting the room in streaks of red, green, and violet. Heat and perfume mingled with the sugary scent of spiked punch.
"Misha! You made it!"
Rachel waved her over from the dance floor. Tall, all arms and legs, with long orange hair and the gleam of braces when she smiled—she was impossible to miss. Her sleeveless turtleneck clung to her as she leaned closer.
"And wow… you're actually wearing something new," Rachel teased, shooting Sera a knowing look. "So you finally convinced her?"
Sera smirked, flipping a curl over her shoulder. "Took forever, but yeah."
Misha groaned. "Can we not?"
Rachel only grinned wider.
Together, the three of them pushed into the mass of dancers. For a while, Misha let the noise and lights blur her thoughts. For once, she wasn't the girl stuck at home. She was here.
But as the hours slipped by, the high began to fray.
By 4:00 a.m., a dizzy haze washed over her. The floor seemed to sway beneath her. A shrill ringing built in her ears, drowning out the music. She stumbled toward the snack bar, gripping the edge to steady herself.
"Misha?" Rachel's voice was sharp with concern as she rushed over.
Sera was seconds behind her.
Misha forced a thin smile. "I'm fine. Just a headache."
But deep down, a cold unease twisted in her stomach.
Something was wrong.
Meanwhile, in the apartment above the hall, Misha's father sat hunched on the couch, his eyes fixed on the flickering glow of the television. A news anchor's voice filled the living room, tense and clipped.
> "We interrupt with breaking news. A massive comet has entered Earth's atmosphere. Citizens are advised to remain indoors. Reports of unusual phenomena are being investigated—strange lights, sudden tremors…"
Her mother entered from the hallway, brushing her hands against her skirt after checking on Misha's younger brother.
"Did you hear that?" her father muttered, his jaw tight. "Sweetie, maybe you should go check on Misha." He didn't take his eyes off the screen. "Didn't she say there was a party downstairs?" His tone sharpened, anger bubbling beneath it.
"Calm down," her mother said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We didn't permit her to go, so she wouldn't dare… right?"
His scowl deepened.
Her mother hesitated. "She's sixteen. Let her breathe a little while she's still young. But—" she sighed, resigned—"I'll check on her."
---
Down below, Misha pressed against the cold metal of the fire escape, the afterimage of the shimmering anomaly still burning in her vision. Her head throbbed. Her body felt hot, almost feverish, every step heavier than the last as she climbed.
By the time she reached her window, she was trembling. She paused, gripping the frame, forcing herself to catch her breath. That's when she heard it—her mother's voice inside her room.
"She didn't even try to hide it. Just look at this bed."
Mom's in my room?! Misha's heart lurched. This is the worst possible timing.
She crouched, waiting, her pulse thudding in her ears. When her mother finally stepped out, Misha slipped inside as fast as she could, landing on her messy sheets. She barely had time to pull the blanket over her lap before the door slammed open.
Her father stood in the doorway, his face twisted with fury.
"Misha. Where have you been?" His voice shook the walls. "Didn't your mother and I tell you not to go out tonight?"
Her throat tightened. "I… I—" Her voice cracked. Heat surged under her skin, a pressure she didn't understand.
"Stop talking when I'm talking!" he barked, stepping forward.
Her mother appeared beside him, her expression grave. "You never listen, Misha. We warned you about that Sera girl. She's a bad influence, and you keep sneaking out with her. Do you want to destroy yourself?"
Tears pricked her eyes. Her chest burned, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
Why don't they understand? Why won't they ever listen?
The pressure inside her built higher, sharper, until it felt like her skin might tear.
"Leave me alone!" The words tore from her throat, raw and desperate.
The room convulsed. A deep crack split across the wall, the ceiling groaning as the floor shuddered beneath them.
"M-Misha…?" her mother whispered, eyes wide.
Blue light radiated from Misha's skin, flickering like lightning beneath the surface.
"JUST LET ME LIVE MY LIFE!" she screamed.
The apartment erupted. Walls splintered, glass shattered, the building shaking violently as if the anomaly itself had reached down from the sky. Her parents lunged for her, trying to shield her with their bodies—
And then the world collapsed.
---
Hours later, military floodlights bathed the ruins of the apartment complex in cold white. Smoke rose in lazy tendrils against the predawn sky.
Two armored vehicles idled at the edge of the wreckage, their engines growling. Soldiers fanned out, boots crunching over broken stone and glass.
"Search for survivors," barked the supervising officer. His voice was detached, businesslike, as though this devastation was routine. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with blond hair cropped short and dark green eyes that scanned the wreckage without flinching. A rifle rested against his vest.
"Sir! Over here!" a soldier called.
They gathered around the hollow of broken concrete where a girl knelt.
Misha.
Her pink hair was matted with dust and blood, her blue eyes hollow, fixed on nothing. Her trembling hands were slick with red, her mother's necklace clutched tight in her palm. Around her lay the remains of what once was home—twisted rebar, shattered stone, and silence.
She whispered, her voice broken: "W-what… have I done?"
One soldier crouched, reaching out carefully. "Hey… it's okay. You're safe now."
But the moment his hand brushed her arm, he jerked back with a cry. Blood poured from fresh cuts across his palm, as if the contact itself had shredded him from within.
"Idiot," another snapped, yanking him away. "You don't touch anomalies without cuffs."
Two more stepped forward, fastening heavy restraints around Misha's wrists. She didn't resist. She didn't even blink.
The supervising officer gave her a single, unreadable glance before turning toward the convoy. "Secure her. Transport to the compound."
The soldiers hauled her to her feet, guiding her toward the vehicle.
Misha stumbled as she realizes Sera and Rachel were caught up in the collapse, her head bowed, the necklace digging into her palm.
She felt nothing. Nothing but the weight of the blood on her hands and the hollow silence where her parents' voices had been.
This night would haunt her forever.