The Collapse

Maya didn't know where to go. Every street, every corner felt like it was pressing in on her. Her chest felt tight, her eyes burned. He told her to stay away from Eddie.

That thought kept clawing at her skull.

She finally found love—real love. Not obsession, not attention, not whatever sick game Vic played. Eddie loved her deeply, truly. And now? Now she was being told to run from the one good thing she had. The one person who made her feel like maybe she wasn't cursed.

It was killing her inside.

As she stood alone on a cracked sidewalk, watching people pass by like shadows, her phone buzzed.

Sally: Come over. Now. It's urgent.

No punctuation. No emojis. Just those words.

She almost ignored it. Almost threw her phone into traffic. But her feet moved anyway. She took the long way to Sally's house, each step dragging like her limbs were made of ash. Her head swirled with questions—should she tell Sally? Luna? Eddie? Should she just disappear again?

The house came into view. The door creaked open before she could knock.

Inside stood Sally and Luna, already grinning.

"Finally!" Luna squealed. "Go get dressed, we're going out."

"What? No. I'm not in the mood, I—"

"The theme's Victorian," Sally interrupted, holding up a dress draped in soft fabric and lace. "I bought this for you. Come on, don't make me cry."

"But I really—"

"You need this, Maya," Luna said, walking over and gently taking her hand. "Just… trust us."

She didn't know why she nodded. Maybe because she was too tired to say no. Maybe because deep down, a part of her wanted to be pulled out of this darkness.

They got ready together. Hair, makeup, laughter that didn't quite reach her chest. Her smile was hollow, but she let them pull her along.

The hotel was dark when they arrived. Cold, silent. Confusing.

"What is this?" she whispered.

And then—

BAM.

Lights. Music. Gasps.

"Surprise!"

People jumped out, clapping and cheering. Her name echoed in the air like magic.

Sally, Luna, Zeke, a few of Eddie's friends. It wasn't packed. It was personal. It was perfect.

Maya stood frozen.

Her birthday.

The one her parents forgot.

And then—

Eddie stepped forward, dressed in tailored Victorian black, his hand stretched out. "Dance with me?"

They floated under chandeliers. Classical music swelled around them. Every spin, every step felt like something out of a storybook. Gasps, "oohs," whispers of how beautiful they looked together.

Maya smiled—but it ached. She smiled because she had to. Because it felt like she was stealing this moment from a life that wasn't really hers.

And when the music slowed, when the dance ended, she slipped outside to the garden. Cold air hit her face. She stared into the distance, holding her arms.

Footsteps.

"Hey," Eddie's voice was soft behind her.

She turned slowly.

He pulled something from his coat pocket—a silver chain with small butterflies dangling from it.

"When I look at you," he said, stepping closer, "I see this. Delicate. Beautiful. Still flying, even after everything."

Her lips parted. Her eyes glistened.

He reached up and gently clasped it around her neck.

And then—he kissed her.

The world melted.

Fireworks burst above them—like they were meant for this exact moment. Like someone finally decided to give her something beautiful.

And then her body collapsed against his, arms wrapping around him so tightly he gasped.

"Maya," he whispered, sensing something wasn't right. "Hey… what's going on?"

But she said nothing. Just cried into his shoulder, shaking. Silent sobs turned to violent, heart-shattering ones.

"I'm okay," she finally whispered, lying through her teeth. "I'm just… happy."

He didn't buy it. But he didn't push.

He drove her home. As they pulled up, Maya saw it—a park down the road, children's laughter echoing through her mind like ghosts.

She got out, forced a smile, and waved him off. He lingered, worried, but drove off eventually.

The second he was gone, she turned to her mother's house.

The lights were dim. Jazz music played low. Her mother sat on the couch, wine glass in hand.

Maya walked in like a storm.

Snatched the bottle. Smashed it against the tile floor.

Her mother stood up sharply. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

But Maya was done.

She yanked the folded photos from her bag and threw them at her mother's face.

They fluttered to the floor like broken pieces of her trust.

"What the hell is this?!" Maya screamed. Her voice cracked. "WHY?! Why would you do this to me?"

Her mother's eyes darted to the photos. Her face went white.

"I didn't—"

"Don't you dare lie to me. Not again." Her chest heaved. "You slept with him. You slept with him! My ex. My boyfriend. Someone MY AGE."

"I didn't know—"

"Bullshit!" Maya stepped closer. Her voice dropped, dead cold. "You knew exactly what you were doing. You wanted to hurt me. You wanted me to watch you ruin every good thing in my life."

Her mother's hand twitched—like she was about to slap her.

"Do it," Maya dared. "Go on. Try. But know that the second you raise your hand, I'll never come back."

Silence.

Her lip trembled. "I didn't understand before, when people called you a whore."

Her mother's jaw dropped.

"I defended you. I fought for you. But now I see it. You don't love me. You're just… jealous. Because I had something good. Because Dad loved me more. Because Eddie actually cared."

Her mother turned pale. But Maya was just getting started.

"You don't deserve my Dad. You don't deserve me. You're a leech. You destroy everything around you and then cry when you're alone."

Her voice cracked again.

"And you know what? He is better off without you."

Then she turned her back.

Walked away from everything.

For once, she didn't look back.

She left the house . Her breath hitched, chest rising and falling like she had just run a marathon. She wasn't crying—not yet. Rage had dried up every tear.

And then—

Buzz.

Phone screen lit up. One message. No name, just the number she never saved but always knew.

Don't you dare leave the house.

She froze on the sidewalk, fingers gripping her phone tighter.

Buzz. Another.

Don't think I'm not watching. You have to end things with Eddie.

Maya's lungs locked. Her head whipped around. The street was empty, dark, the wind brushing trees just gently enough to feel sinister. Was he here? Watching from a car? A window?

A shiver ran through her. Vic. His voice suddenly crawling up her spine, like oil in her veins.

The door to the house slammed open as Maya burst in once again , footsteps thundering up the stairs. Her mother shouted something from the kitchen, but it was drowned by the sound of Maya's door flying shut behind her.

She didn't just shut it—she threw it. The frame shook. And then she snapped.

Books. Frames. Perfume bottles. Everything within reach went flying. The vanity mirror cracked under the weight of a music box. Her jewelry scattered across the carpet like spilled blood.

She ripped the pillow from her bed and screamed into it—long, guttural, from the deepest part of her. Not one scream. Not two. She screamed again and again, louder each time, until her throat burned raw.

Downstairs, her mother was crying.

But Maya didn't care. She didn't care if the whole house burned down.

She collapsed onto the floor, her face buried into the pillow again, muffling a scream that sounded less human and more like a wounded animal. Her whole body shook as it broke open, every emotion tearing out all at once—rage, shame, betrayal, heartbreak.

Her lungs refused to fill. Her fingers gripped at the carpet like she was trying to hold onto the earth itself.

And then—everything went black.

Her body dropped still.

Silence filled the room.

Her mother stood outside the door, hand hovering above the knob, tears sliding silently down her cheeks.

But she didn't enter. She didn't call for help.

She just stood there, listening to the silence on the other side.