She Who Burns

Zaria’s POV

The world was silent.

Not peaceful silence—no, this was the kind that howls in your ears, wraps around your chest like a vice, and makes every beat of your heart feel like an explosion. I was floating, caught between life and death, surrounded by darkness that pulsed like a second skin.

They said I was brain dead.

But I could hear everything.

The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. The hushed shuffle of nurses’ shoes. The click of metal against metal. The crack in my father’s voice when he asked the doctor if there was still hope.

“I’ll give you whatever amount you need, just name it!” he said, his voice raw with desperation. “Just bring my daughter back to me.”

Then silence—followed by retreating footsteps.

I expected silence after that. Time to mourn my stolen reality.

But what came next shattered the last unbroken piece of me.

A voice. His voice.

Daniel.

The man I loved. The man who once kissed my scars and whispered that nothing could ever take me from him.

And another voice.

Ava.

My best friend since childhood. The girl I shared secrets, laughters and dreams with.

Together.

Alone.

With me.

Their voices were too close. Too intimate.

“Why didn’t she just die?” Daniel’s voice cut through the fog like glass.

For a second, I thought I imagined it. Maybe grief had twisted his words. Maybe this was a hallucination born from trauma.

But then—Ava laughed.

A soft, cruel laugh that made my blood run cold.

“You don’t have to worry, Dan,” she said lightly. “She won’t survive this. And if by some miracle she does… we’ll kill her again. And again. Until she finally stays dead.”

No.

No, this couldn’t be real.

My heart screamed. My soul trembled. But my body remained frozen, paralyzed beneath layers of bandages and betrayal.

“I cleared everything,” Ava continued with the sharp confidence of someone who’s done this before. “The CCTV on that street was already broken. We made sure there were no witnesses. And I left that bottle of vodka in the car… just like we planned.”

Planned?

They planned the accident?

“I don’t know,” Daniel muttered. “Zaria’s father is ruthless. If he suspects something—”

“That’s why we staged the fight,” Ava snapped. “Everyone saw you two arguing that night. When the police see the report, it’ll look like she drove off drunk and emotional. No one will suspect us.”

Of course Daniel would fear my father—he’d seen firsthand what the man was capable of. Back in college, my dad had once hired men to break someone’s arm for calling me names at a party.

Daniel knew.

He knew, and still—he chose this.

“I knew I could trust you, Ava,” he said finally.

Trust?

You’re not ready for what’s coming, Daniel.

And then I heard it.

The sickening sound of lips meeting. Soft moans. The unmistakable rustle of clothing.

God, no.

Not here.

Not while I lay broken.

“You’re insane,” Daniel breathed, his voice full