The Night I Died

People think girls like me are born untouchable.

Rich father. Designer closets. Penthouse view. Private school. Perfect grades when I bothered trying. A face half the city envied and the other half wanted attached to their family name.

Easy life.

That's what they saw.

Not the pressure.

Not the expectations.

Not the way everyone watched me like I was something to own instead of someone to know.

Still, I preferred it that way.

Power was better than affection. Power lasted longer.

I lay sprawled across my bed, staring lazily at the ceiling while my phone buzzed beside me for the fourteenth time in ten minutes. Someone was probably drunk-texting me from tonight's gala.

I ignored it.

The city stretched beyond the glass walls of my room, glittering gold under the rain. From the thirty-seventh floor, people looked microscopic. Small. Replaceable.

I liked that view.

It reminded me exactly where I stood.

Above everyone.

A soft knock came from my bedroom door before it opened slightly.

"Miss Aria?" one of the maids asked carefully. "Your father said you should sleep early. Tomorrow's event is important."

I didn't even look at her. "Tell my father I survived seventeen years without his sleep schedule. I think I'll manage."

Silence.

Then the door quietly closed again.

I smirked faintly.

See, people loved calling me difficult. Cold. Arrogant.

I preferred honest.

Most people smiled while thinking horrible things. At least I had the decency to say mine out loud.

I finally grabbed my phone, scrolling through endless notifications.

Three boys asking where I disappeared to after dinner.

One girl pretending to compliment my dress while insulting me indirectly.

Pathetic.

I tossed the phone away again.

The room suddenly felt colder.

I frowned slightly.

That was strange.

The temperature in the penthouse was controlled automatically. My father hated inconvenience almost as much as he hated weakness.

Lightning flashed outside the windows, illuminating the dark room in silver for a split second.

Then,

The lights flickered.

Once.

Twice.

I sat up slowly.

A strange pressure settled over my chest.

Not anxiety.

Not fear.

Something heavier.

Something wrong.

The air became difficult to breathe.

"What now?" I muttered irritably, pressing a hand against my ribs.

Another flash of lightning split across the sky.

The lights went out completely.

Darkness swallowed the room.

I rolled my eyes immediately. "Amazing. The billionaire tower lost electricity. Should I start praying too?"

But then I heard it.

A sound.

Crack.

My smile disappeared.

Another crack echoed through the room, louder this time, sharp enough to make my skin crawl.

I looked up.

And froze.

A glowing fracture stretched across the ceiling.

Purple light bled through it violently, like someone had torn open reality itself.

For the first time in years

I felt genuine fear.

The fracture spread rapidly across the walls.

Glass exploded.

The room shook beneath me.

"What the hell is this?"

The pressure in my chest became unbearable. I struggled to breathe as invisible force wrapped around my body like chains.

The purple light grew brighter.

Closer.

Something whispered near my ear.

Not loudly.

Softly.

Almost lovingly.

"Shift."

Pain slammed into my skull.

I screamed.

My body lifted off the bed for one horrifying second before everything shattered into darkness.

And then.....

Nothing.

—

When I opened my eyes again, I immediately knew two things.

First:

my head felt like someone had dragged me through hell personally.

Second:

I was no longer in my room.

The ceiling above me was stained brown with water damage.

I blinked slowly.

What.

The mattress beneath me was thin enough to feel every wooden plank underneath. The air smelled faintly of detergent, dust, and something fried. A rusty fan rotated lazily overhead with a clicking sound that made me want to sue someone.

I sat up abruptly.

Bad idea.

Pain exploded through my skull so violently that I nearly blacked out again.

"Oh, fantastic," I hissed, gripping my forehead. "Love that for me."

My eyes slowly adjusted to the dim lighting.

Tiny room.

Peeling wallpaper.

Crooked shelves.

Clothes folded on a broken chair.

The entire place looked like poverty and depression had collaborated on interior design.

And beside me,

A woman slept curled around a little girl on another mattress.

I stared at them blankly.

Who the hell were these people?

I looked around again, expecting hidden cameras.

Nothing.

No guards.

No staff.

No marble floors.

No giant windows.

No luxury.

My stomach twisted unpleasantly.

This wasn't funny anymore.

I climbed off the mattress carefully, my bare feet touching the freezing floor.

Every instinct in my body screamed wrong.

The room felt familiar in a way that made my skin crawl.

Like I'd been here before.

Impossible.

I noticed a mirror hanging crookedly near the corner and walked toward it immediately.

At least I could confirm I hadn't completely lost my mind.

The girl staring back at me was still beautiful.

Obviously.

Long black hair spilled messily over my shoulders, slightly tangled but still glossy. Sharp eyes. Perfect lips. Expensive face.

Mine.

But the clothes.....

I looked down slowly.

An oversized faded shirt hung off my frame like a personal insult. Loose gray sweatpants covered my legs, worn thin at the knees.

I touched the sleeve carefully.

Cotton.

Cheap cotton.

I looked back at my reflection in horror.

"I look financially unstable."

The mirror offered no sympathy.

I leaned closer.

Something about my face looked different. Not physically.

Emotionally.

Like exhaustion lingered beneath my skin.

Then suddenly

Images flashed through my mind.

Rain pouring heavily outside a school gate.

Girls laughing.

Someone crying.

A sharp voice shouting:

"You embarrassed the governor's daughter!"

I staggered backward instantly.

"What"

Another flash.

This room.

This family.

This life.

No.

No, absolutely not.

I pressed my hands against my temples as unfamiliar memories pushed violently into my head.

Not mine.

But somehow mine.

My breathing turned uneven.

I looked at the mirror again.

At the beautiful stranger wearing cheap clothes.

And for the first time since waking up, a terrifying thought crossed my mind.

What if this wasn't kidnapping?

What if this was something worse?

Something impossible.

Something permanent.

—

I didn't sleep again after that.

Mostly because I was busy deciding whether I was dead, insane, or trapped inside the universe's worst joke.

None of the options felt comforting.

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