Chapter 36: "Morning After Shadows"
Zariah woke up curled on the couch, a blanket pulled around her shoulders like a fragile shield.
For a second, she forgot where she was.
Then it all came crashing back—the bathroom floor, the blade, Jasmine's voice breaking through the darkness.
She stayed still, listening.
The house was silent, except for the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen. No footsteps. No voices.
Just… peace. Heavy, uncomfortable peace.
She shifted slightly and winced as the cuts on her arm tugged against the bandages. Jasmine had been careful last night, but the damage ran deeper than anything a bandage could cover.
Slowly, she sat up.
Jasmine was sitting on the floor by the couch, back resting against it, head tilted back, asleep. Her hoodie was wrinkled, her shoes still on, her face pale with exhaustion.
Zariah's chest tightened.
She didn't deserve her.
Didn't deserve anyone.
But she couldn't bring herself to move. Couldn't make herself wake Jasmine up. So she just watched her, feeling a thousand emotions she didn't have words for.
Regret.
Guilt.
A tiny, aching flicker of gratitude.
The sun was barely rising, casting soft gray light through the window. It painted everything in a strange, cold glow that matched the way Zariah felt inside—half-alive, half-lost.
A small voice in her head whispered, You're still here.
Another voice, harsher, snapped back, You don't deserve to be.
Zariah pressed her forehead into her knees, breathing slow, shaky breaths.
She didn't know what healing looked like.
She didn't even know if she believed it was possible.
But this—this quiet moment, with Jasmine snoring softly and the world still asleep—felt like something.
Not hope.
Not yet.
But maybe a reason to stay one more day.
Just one.
And for now, maybe that was enough.