The alleyways were a maze of wet concrete, crooked shadows, and flickering streetlamps that buzzed like dying insects. The air was thick, damp, suffocating — it clung to their skin, soaking through their clothes. The distant sound of the festival was muted now, barely a whisper against the oppressive silence of the alley. The boys regrouped at the end of it, panting, trying to catch their breath, their eyes darting through the gloom, searching for her. But she was gone.
Ko Aung was the first to stop, his chest heaving, the weight of the moment settling on him. He turned slowly, trying to make sense of the blur of faces and shadows behind him. The sense of being watched — or hunted — crawled over him like a cold sweat.
"Anyone see her?" he asked, his voice hoarse, tight. He didn't really expect an answer. He didn't know what he expected.
Kyaw Lin cursed under his breath, frustration seeping into his words. "She was right there, man. I swear. I had her in my sights—" His voice faltered, and he looked back into the alley, like he could somehow summon her from the shadows, bring her back from the dark places where she hid.
Ko Zay rubbed at his forehead, his face twisted with frustration and something deeper, something harder to name. "She just vanished," he said, the words more of a statement than a question. His eyes were wide, like he couldn't quite believe what had just happened.
They all looked at each other, the silence stretching between them, thickening the air until it felt like they were suffocating. And then, just like that, it hit them all at once.
"Where's Min Zaw?" Ko Aung's voice cracked, the urgency in it raw, sharp.
Silence again. Heavy. Unyielding.
The weight of what was unsaid settled between them, and the air suddenly felt wrong.
Min Zaw walked alone now, his footsteps hesitant, his heart racing in his chest like a wild animal trying to escape. The alley twisted, narrowing with each step, the walls closing in on him like they were alive, suffocating him. His breath was shallow, each inhale coming faster than the last. The noise of the festival was now nothing but a distant hum, something he couldn't reach, couldn't grasp. Only the quiet of the alleyway remained, the emptiness pressing in on him like a force he couldn't fight.
He passed a tangle of laundry lines, the fabric swaying slightly, like ghosts in the wind. He ducked under a rusted pipe, its metal cold against his skin as he slid past. His eyes flicked nervously from doorway to window, to every shadow lurking in the corners of his vision. They were out there. He could feel it.
He didn't see her until it was too late.
He passed a darkened doorway, the paint peeling off the frame, the air around it feeling colder than it had been just a second before. There was something about it. Something... wrong. But he didn't stop. His feet carried him forward, one step after another, too tired to think, too afraid to turn around.
And then a shift.
A movement.
She was there.
It happened so fast. He barely had time to react. She stepped out of the darkness like she'd been waiting for him, her movements sharp and purposeful. There was no hesitation in her eyes, no mercy in her step.
Min Zaw froze. His heart slammed against his ribs. He could feel it — that moment when recognition hit, when everything inside him screamed, This is it. This is real.
"It's you," he gasped, the words coming out broken, desperate. His voice shook, cracking under the weight of the fear, the knowledge of what was about to happen. The words tasted like betrayal, like salt in an open wound.
She didn't say a word. Her eyes — cold, distant, like black glass — stared at him, unblinking. Her hand moved then, faster than he could react, a blur of motion that caught him completely off guard.
A splash.
Pain. Fire. It was everywhere.
It exploded across his face, across his eyes, his skin. The burning agony was so sudden, so overwhelming, that his body didn't know how to respond. He screamed, the sound raw and primal, the kind of scream that tore itself from deep inside. His hands flew to his face, trying to wipe away the searing heat, but it was already too late.
Too slow.
He fell to the ground, his body twisting, curling in on itself as the world around him spun out of control. His fingers clawed at his skin, his face, as if he could pull the pain out, tear it away. But it clung to him, relentless, unforgiving.
Somewhere in the haze of agony, he heard footsteps.
Not hers. The others.
They found him moments later, stumbling over each other, panic and confusion flashing in their eyes as they dropped to his side.
"Min Zaw!" Ko Aung's voice cracked, the sound sharp with panic. He knelt beside him, hands trembling as he reached for him. "Min Zaw, look at me! You're going to be okay."
But Min Zaw couldn't look at him. His body was shaking, spasming, his face a twisted mess of agony. His hands were still pressed against his face, as though he could block it all out, as though the pain would stop if he could just hold it together. His breath came in ragged sobs, desperate and broken, like he was trying to breathe through fire.
And then he screamed again — a sound that tore through them, through everything, shattering the silence that had hung over them like a curse.
"It's her!" Min Zaw choked, his voice breaking, the words ragged, as if they were being torn out of him. His body jerked as he tried to sit up, but his hands wouldn't leave his face, his skin too raw, too burned. "It's fucking her!"
The words hit them all at once, like a punch to the gut.
And then, once again — silence.
It wasn't the silence of the alleyway, still alive with the hum of the city, with the distant sounds of the festival playing out somewhere beyond them. No. This silence was different. It was heavy, suffocating. It fell over them like a blanket, pressing in on their chests, making it hard to breathe.
They looked at each other, eyes wide, hearts racing, as the weight of it all pressed down on them. The realization of what had just happened. Of who had just done it.
And they stood there, frozen. For a moment, no one moved. No one spoke. The world around them seemed to fade, the noise of the festival, the weight of the city, all becoming a distant echo. Only the sound of Min Zaw's shallow, ragged breathing remained. And that, too, was a scream — loud and broken — that none of them could escape.