Zaria wakes to the sound of her alarm.
It's the only thing that gives her a reason to move.
The weight on her chest is heavier this morning. She doesn't know if it's because of the usual darkness in her mind or if something else is lurking something she can't name yet.
The blankets are tangled around her like chains. She pulls them off, but the cold air hits her skin like a slap. She tries not to wince, tries to breathe through it, but even that feels too hard today. Even breathing is something she has to force.
She forces herself to sit up. To pull herself out of bed.
She could just stay here. Let the thoughts crush her again, sink her deeper into the darkness. But she can't.
Not yet.
Not today.
The mirror is a lie. She's learned that well. The face looking back at her isn't the one she sees when she closes her eyes at night. The girl in the mirror is smiling, looking okay.
But there's something inside of her that no one else can see, and it's been clawing at her for years. Something that no matter how hard she tries to cover, still shows. Even when she forces the smile.
The morning routine is muscle memory. Brush teeth. Wash face. Get dressed. No one notices how the steps feel like a battle. She glances at her phone, ignoring the texts she doesn't want to open, the calls she doesn't want to answer. She doesn't need their pity. Not today.
Not ever.
Zaria's fingers twitch. A familiar pull. A coldness behind her eyes. It's there, standing just out of view.
Them.
The ones who've haunted her since she was a child. The ones who whisper things into her mind that no one can hear.
No one except her.
She wishes she could tell someone.
Anyone.
But how do you explain something like that?
She pulls on her jacket, feeling the pressure of the day ahead. The world will never understand what she's fighting.
And sometimes, neither does she.
As she walks out the door, her steps feel heavy. Like each one is dragging her deeper into a place she can't escape.
The fight's about to begin. Again.