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The Next day,
It starts quietly.
That's the cruelest part.
Mira doesn't scream.
Doesn't convulse.
Doesn't bleed.
She just… goes still.
You notice it over breakfast. She's sitting across from you, stirring her coffee long after the sugar has dissolved.
"Mira?" you say gently. "You're going to spill that."
She doesn't look up.
"The noise is gone," she murmurs.
Your stomach drops. "What noise?"
"The inside," she says. "The tugging. The echoes. It's… empty."
You glance at him, panic flaring.
"That's not good, is it?"
His jaw tightens. "No."
Mira finally looks up.
Her eyes are wrong.
Not dark.
Not glowing.
Just… absent.
Like the lights are on but the soul stepped out.
"They told me how to make it stop," she says calmly.
"Who?" you whisper.
"All of them."
The air shivers.
"You can't listen to them," you say, standing. "They're lying."
"No," she replies softly. "They're offering peace."
He steps forward. "What did you give them?"
Mira smiles.
Not her smile.
"My fear."
Your blood turns to ice.
"I was so tired," she continues, voice steady. "So tired of being hunted. Of being watched. Of feeling wrong in my own body."
She rises slowly.
"They said if I let go of who I was… it wouldn't hurt anymore."
"Mira, stop," you plead. "You don't have to do this."
"I already did."
The air shifts.
Something clicks into place.
You feel it—her presence changes, aligning with something vast and cold.
"You were my anchor," she says to you. "That's why this works."
"Works how?" you whisper.
"Through you," she replies.
The room distorts.
Your chest burns violently.
"Mira—!" you cry as pain lances through you, like something is pulling on the hollow inside you.
He lunges forward. "Get away from them!"
She turns to him, eyes now reflecting something old and cruel.
"I'm not afraid of you anymore," she says.
With a flick of her hand, invisible force slams into him, hurling him across the room into the far wall.
He hits hard, stunned.
You collapse to your knees, gasping.
"Mira, please," you sob. "I'm right here."
She kneels in front of you, face inches from yours.
"I know," she whispers. "That's why they want you gone."
Tears spill down your face. "They're using you."
"Then let them," she replies calmly. "At least this way, I get to choose."
Her hand closes around your throat.
Not crushing.
Just holding.
"Goodbye," she whispers.
And somewhere behind her eyes, something smiles.