Buried Echoes

“MIA!” I scream her name, the sound ripping from my throat like it’s been clawed out of me. She hits the pavement with a sickening c***k. Blood spreads across the road, dark and too fast. Everything around me blurs—cars, people, time itself. All I hear is the echo of impact and the pounding of my own heartbeat. I fall to my knees beside her, hands shaking as I reach for her. She’s still warm. Still breathing. Barely. “Stay with me,” I whisper, choking on the words. “Please, Mia—look at me.” She opens her eyes. Just barely. “Maya…” My name, fragile and broken, slipping from her lips like a prayer. Her lips move like she wants to say more—but nothing comes out. Her grip on my hand weakens. No movement. No sound. Her chest doesn’t rise again. She’s gone. ******************************* Ten minutes earlier…… ******************************* The sun kisses our skin as we walk home, warm and soft, the kind of evening that feels like a reward. School’s over. Exams are done. Freedom tastes like the scent of roasted bananas from a street vendor down the block. The pavement is dry, cracked in places we know by heart. We should be celebrating. Instead, Mia’s walking beside me like she’s lost something. She hasn’t stopped staring at her results sheet since we stepped out of the school gates. Her brows are drawn tight. Her lips, pressed into a thin line.” You fool,” I tease, bumping her shoulder. “Admit it—I beat you in maths.” She doesn’t answer. Just keeps flipping the paper like it betrayed her. She’s holding it so tightly I’m afraid it might rip. I laugh lightly. “Come on, it’s two marks. You’re still the best graduating student. That’s the title everyone’s going to remember.” “It should’ve been perfect,” she mutters. “You already won the war. Let the battle go,” I say. “Tobias looked like he swallowed a cactus when they called your name. His face alone was an award.” That gets her lips to twitch—just barely. “He’s my rival,” she murmurs, but there’s doubt in her voice. “Please,” I scoff. “He’s a robot. If he studied any harder, he'd start reciting formulas in his sleep.” She hugs the paper tighter to her chest like it’s something precious, or broken. The way a child might clutch a toy they’re afraid to let go of. I don’t get it—why this matters so much to her. I’ve never cared about grades. Never cared about titles. I just wanted to be done. But Mia? Mia’s always been the brilliant one. The golden girl. The perfect one. And me? I’ve always just been.….me. “I just wanted the math award,” she says quietly, her voice so soft I almost miss it. I look at her, really look at her. There’s something restless in her eyes. A c***k in her perfect composure. “You’re more than a bloody math trophy,” I say, a little more gently now. “Don’t let it ruin this moment.” She finally looks at me, and there’s something almost childlike in her expression. Vulnerable. Uncertain. I feel lighter. Free. The road ahead stretches like a new beginning, and I let myself imagine it—whatever comes next. Then— A horn. A scream. Tires screech against the road. Everything slows. I see the car before she does. It’s coming too fast. Too close. Time fractures around me, and instinct takes over. I reach for her, shout her name. Too late. The car hits her. The impact sends her flying through the air like a doll flung by a careless hand. My scream tears through the silence. She crashes to the ground. The sound—the sound of her body hitting the pavement—is something I will never forget. A sound that cleaves the world in two. I drop beside her, knees scraping the road. Blood is everywhere. Thick. Spreading. Too fast. “Mia,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Please, no. Stay with me.” She blinks up at me, her eyes struggling to stay open. Her lips move. “Maya…” My name, fragile and broken, slipping from her lips like a prayer. Her lips move like she wants to say more—but nothing comes out. Her grip on my hand weakens. No movement. No sound. Her chest doesn’t rise again. She’s gone. Just like that. And in that moment, something inside me breaks. Forever.