How ignorant they were. Their laughter filled the air, carefree and unburdened, their biggest concerns revolving around who was dating whom, who had broken up, who was the team captain, and who had finally had sex.
Their world was small, predictable, and safe. And yet, no matter how oblivious they were to the struggles beyond their bubble, she envied them.
Syed sat by the bus window, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the cool glass. This was the last school trip before graduation, the final chapter before they all scattered into the unknown.
She gazed at the school compound, the place she had spent years walking through, memorizing every crack in the pavement, every faded notice board. Soon, it would belong to someone else, just another backdrop to another set of fleeting teenage dramas.
At the corner of her eye, she saw her classmates filing onto the bus in groups, their voices a blur of excitement and whispered gossip. They filled the seats around her, their energy infectious, yet Syed felt miles away.
She wasn't sure if she wanted to be part of it, to lose herself in the easy joy of their conversations. But a part of her wished—just for a moment—that she could forget, that she could be like them.
A deep voice broke through her thoughts.
"Can I sit next to you?"
She turned slightly and found herself looking up at a tall, blond-haired boy. One of the football players. A popular one at that. She'd caught him staring at her a few times before, but she never acknowledged it. Stares were nothing new to her—not that she enjoyed them.
"I don't own the bus," she said flatly, "so sit wherever you like."
She expected him to just take the seat, but instead, she heard him take a deep breath, whisper something under his breath—something that sounded suspiciously like a pep talk. She pretended not to hear.
A slap landed on his back as one of his friends passed by, grinning. "Go get her, man."
Laughter rippled through the bus. A few heads turned, some students throwing him knowing looks, others exchanging amused glances. But not all of them were entertained.
Syed could feel the weight of several stares on her—sharp, lingering, filled with something between resentment and fascination. The girls, especially. She had seen that look before. It was the same expression they wore when they whispered about her in the locker room, when they side-eyed her in the hallways. She was used to it.
Jealousy.
Syed had always been attractive, effortlessly so. It wasn't something she tried for, nor something she cared much about. But that didn't stop the envious glances, the murmured comparisons, the subtle hostility disguised as friendly banter.
________________________________________
Throughout the entire drive, Ethan—now properly named in her mind—was doing his best to make conversation with the dark-skinned girl beside him. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the seat, and the slight stutter in his voice, with a stiff face as if having trouble maintaining his expression.
Syed pulled her bag closer to her chest as she nonchalantly answered another one of his questions—one that felt like he was trying to feel her out.
"What are your plans for college?" he asked, glancing at her braided hair.
She turned her face toward him, and for a second, he just stared.
"Anything close by. What about you?" she asked, trying to be polite but also subtly shifting the focus away from herself.
His face lit up, beaming with excitement at her response. Encouraged by her engagement, he eagerly admitted that he, too, would be attending a college nearby. His words spilled out faster, enthusiasm evident—but Syed's attention was already slipping away.
The air shifted.
It was subtle at first, like a disturbance just beneath the surface of reality, something unnatural curling through the atmosphere. A sharp prickle ran down Syed's spine, her instincts immediately sharpening.
Something was wrong.
Her gaze snapped to the window, scanning the streets. Cars and trucks moved as they should, pedestrians walked along the sidewalks, life continued as normal.
But she could see it.
Moving impossibly fast, weaving through traffic—faster than any human could move. It was almost featureless, grey skin and twisted limbs. No one else reacted. No one turned their heads. They didn't see it.
But Syed did.
Her eyes tracked its every movement, the way it seemed out of place, she could feel the malice from it, as it ran but from what. Then, just as she locked onto it completely, it darted forward.
Impact.
The creature slammed into a moving car, sending it skidding out of control. The chaos was instant—horns blared, brakes screeched, metal crunched against metal. Pedestrians screamed as vehicles swerved to avoid the wreck. But the worst part?
The disaster wasn't over.
The out-of-control vehicle was heading straight for them.
Syed's heart slammed into her ribs as pure instinct took over.
"GET DOWN!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the laughter and conversations on the bus.
---
Her vision wavered, flickering between blinding light and darkness. A sharp ringing filled her ears, drowning out the chaos around her as she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. She felt hands gripping her, shielding her, though she hardly needed protection.
As her senses sharpened, she turned her gaze to the boy holding her. Ethan. The very boy she had risked using her powers to protect.
At that moment, he was positioned above her, shielding her from the aftermath of the crash. What he didn't realize was that she had protected him first. The jagged shard of metal from the wrecked car had nearly impaled his back, but at the last second, she had redirected it, sending it slicing harmlessly into the bus seats instead.
"Are you hurt?" Ethan's voice was frantic as his hands brushed over her arms and shoulders, searching for injuries. His relief was audible when he found none.
"No," Syed answered, gently pushing against him to ease him off her.
They scrambled to their feet inside the wreckage of the bus, which now lay on its side. Their classmates groaned, helping each other up, some stumbling, dazed from the impact. The air was thick with dust and the sharp, metallic scent of blood.
"Someone, help!" A panicked voice called from the front of the bus.
Syed and Ethan exchanged a quick look of mutual understanding before moving forward, joined by a few other students. As they approached, a sickly scent filled Syed's nostrils, the unmistakable stench of fresh blood. Then, her eyes landed on the growing crimson pool spreading across the floor.
The driver lay motionless, his body half-slumped against the crushed dashboard. A student knelt beside him, a deep gash on his forehead oozing blood as he hesitantly reached out, shaking the driver's shoulder. The moment his fingers made contact, more blood spilled, thick and dark, seeping into the cracks of the bus floor.
Then, as if propelled by horror, the student jerked away, scrambling back with a strangled gasp.
The driver's face—or what should have been his face—was gone.
What remained was an unrecognizable mess of flesh and bone. White brain matter peeked grotesquely through the empty sockets where his eyes should have been. Blood and viscera dripped onto the floor, mingling with the scent of burned rubber and metal.
A wave of nausea rippled through the group. Some students gagged, others turned away, retching violently. The sound of vomiting only added to the grotesque scene, the acrid smell thickening the air.
Syed remained still, her expression unreadable. She had seen worse.
Far worse.