The Way She Burns For Me

SOPHIA

The mirror isn’t just glass—it’s my spotlight, and I’m the main act. I tilt my head, scrutinizing the angle of my eyeliner, the shimmer catching the soft glow just right.

Flawless. My lip gloss, a light berry shade, glides on smooth. One final pout, and yeah—if I weren’t me, I’d totally kiss me.

“Fifteen minutes, Sophia!” Dad’s voice cuts through my makeup ritual like a knife. “We’re running late!”

I roll my eyes so hard it’s a miracle they stay in my skull. “Ten more!” I holler back, fully planning to take longer. I don’t do rushed. This kind of gorgeous takes effort. If the world can’t wait for it, that’s not my problem.

I finish with a spritz of vanilla perfume and toss my hair in perfect waves. Grabbing my phone, I snap a few mirror selfies, catching the light just right on my cheekbones.

In the last pic, I wink, smirking. If that jerk of an ex could see me now? Ha—eat your heart out.

Lila’s giggles float up from downstairs—my tiny, chaotic sister is in full force. Time to make my entrance. I step into my heels and head out, the click of my shoes echoing on the wooden floor.

Then—bam!—Lila charges out of nowhere and slams into me like a toddler missile. I yelp, just managing to catch her before we both go flying.

“Hey, little maniac! What’s the rush?” I laugh, lifting her up. Her curls bounce as she squeals in delight.

“You’re laaate!” she chirps, jabbing my cheek like she’s teaching me a lesson.

“And you’re trouble,” I say, smothering her with playful kisses until she giggles and squirms. “Let’s go make the olds think we care about being on time.”

Hand in hand, we descend the rest of the stairs. Mom stands at the bottom, runway-ready in an emerald-green maxi dress, red lipstick bold against her skin. She flashes me a tight-lipped smile—her patience clearly wearing thin.

Dad, meanwhile, looks ready to explode. Dressed in a crisp black suit, blond hair slicked back, he checks his watch for the thousandth time.

“Sophia. Finally,” he sighs, somewhere between relieved and annoyed. “We’re about to lose our reservation.”

I just smile sweetly. “Greatness takes time, Dad.”

No reaction. But Lila squeezes my hand and giggles. Mom smooths her dress and heads for the door. Dad waves us along, already tense.

The night air is cool, and city lights flicker in the distance. We pile into the back of the trusty old Prado, and the second the doors shut, Dad pulls out like we’re in a race.

The dash lights make everything inside look soft and warm. I settle in, adjusting my dress, catching a whiff of Lila’s strawberry lip gloss that somehow ends up everywhere.

“Hey, Em, pass me my phone,” I say, holding it out. “Snap a quick pic? I need something to post.”

Lila groans like I just asked her to solve a math equation. “Why do you always need pictures? You already look nice!”

“Thanks, but it’s about ,” I say with a grin, angling my face to catch the streetlight glow. “Be a good little sister and help me out.”

“Nope,” she says, completely deadpan, eyes twinkling.

“Excuse me? No?” I raise an eyebrow, mock-offended.

“No more pics, Sophia! You’re obsessed,” she smirks, sticking out her tongue.

“Oh, I’m obsessed? Says the girl who’s made ten thousand slime videos?” I hold the phone closer. “Just take the picture.”

She snatches it and deliberately aims wrong, taking a shot that catches my shoulder and half my nose.

“Really? This is what you’re going with?” I show her the blurry horror.

“It’s called artistic vision,” she says smugly.

“You’re a menace,” I mutter, lunging to tickle her. She squeals, twisting under her seatbelt.

“Girls,” Mom warns from the front seat, voice sharp. “Keep it down.”

“She started it!” Lila squeals, shielding herself from my fingers.

“She refused to capture my fabulousness!” I counter, pulling away dramatically.

“Do not make me come back there,” Mom says, glancing over her shoulder with that death glare. Her emerald earrings catch the light, and Lila and I both sit up straighter.

Up front, Dad’s on the phone and navigating traffic. “Yes, yes, we’re almost there. Hold the table ten more minutes,” he says in his smooth, charming business voice.

Mom leans over and mutters something to him—probably PR advice on sounding less flakey.

Meanwhile, Lila folds her arms smugly. “No pictures for you tonight, Sophia.”

“Fine,” I huff. “But one day, you’ll regret not helping preserve my stunning youth.”

She rolls her eyes, and I can’t help but grin. Honestly, it’s impossible to stay mad at her—especially when she’s the only one who can match my sass.

*******************************************

The Prado hums quietly beneath us. Dad’s still working his charm on the restaurant over the phone, Mom’s dishing out safety reminders like it’s her personal mission, and Lila’s wearing a smug grin like she just snagged a trophy for being the world’s most irritating sibling. It’s chaotic, sure—but it’s our brand of normal.

I lean back in my seat, letting the night smear past us in glowing lines of streetlights and blurred shadows.

Dad’s foot is heavy on the pedal, and the Prado slices through traffic like it owns the road. My eyes drift to the highway stretching ahead, streetlights glinting across the windshield.

Then a distant growl rumbles from above.

It crawls through the sky, low and unsettling, snapping me to attention. I lean toward the windshield, narrowing my eyes. Far off above the city, a thick wall of dark clouds churns like smoke underwater, creeping in our direction.

“Rain’s on the way,” I murmur, just as fat raindrops begin to slap the glass.

Dad switches on the wipers. They groan as they sweep back and forth. “Just a bit of rain,” he shrugs.

Before I can relax again, headlights blur past our left side. A sleek car whips by—fast, loud, careless—and its horn screams as it flies ahead.

“Jesus,” Dad mutters, veering just enough to make my stomach twist. Lila lets out a squeak of alarm beside me.

Her fingers clamp onto mine, tight. “Sophia… this feels bad,” she says, her voice low, eyes flicking around nervously.

“It’s alright,” I say, squeezing her hand in return. I try to keep my voice steady, even as my pulse jumps.

“Everyone okay?” Mom turns around, voice edged with concern.

A sudden crash of thunder shakes the air, sharp and close. Lightning follows in a brilliant flash that bathes the sky in white. Lila jerks beside me, her nails digging into my skin.

I check my phone, looking for a distraction. My lock screen—a black-and-white shot of Amelia Hart in her Lockheed Electra—offers zero reassurance. I swipe over to the GPS. Fifteen minutes to go.

“Dad, maybe slow it down a bit?” I say, leaning forward. “Kinda prefer to get there in one piece.”

“She’s right, Sean,” Mom says flatly, leaving no room for argument.

With a sigh, he eases off the gas. Outside, the rain thickens, pounding the car in sheets of gray.

I watch the storm blur the view outside. A knot forms in my stomach. Something about this night feels... off.

The rain hits harder. The wipers are struggling. Visibility shrinks to smeared lights and the dull shine of water. I’m staring ahead, still trying to shake this unease, when a massive black SUV—a Cadillac—tears past us.

But instead of speeding away, it slows, slipping directly in front of our car. Its taillights glow like two red eyes in the dark.

“What the…” Dad taps the brakes.

Suddenly, a second SUV creeps up on the right. It slides up close, nearly kissing our side mirror. A third appears on the left, close enough to block out Lila’s view. I try to see inside, but the windows are pitch-black. No luck.

Then one more pulls in behind us.

I turn and feel my chest tighten. We’re boxed in.

“What is this?” I whisper, fear threading through my voice.

The SUV on the driver’s side edges toward us, nearly scraping the Prado.

“Sean!” Mom shouts, panic rising.

Dad’s grip on the wheel tightens until his hands turn white. Lila squeezes me hard, breathing shaky.

The air grows thick. Heavy. Like the world’s holding its breath.

And I know deep down—this isn’t just bad weather.

Something’s very wrong.

The SUV next to Dad slows down, edging closer until it's just inches from us. The window on the passenger side rolls down with a soft mechanical hiss, and suddenly a hand emerges—gripping a semi-automatic weapon.

My eyes catch on the man’s forearm for a split second—a tattoo curls across his skin, a snake wrapped tightly around a skull, fangs exposed, staring back like a threat carved in ink.

Lila’s scream rips through the rain like a blade through silk. I want to scream too, but my voice is trapped somewhere deep inside me.

“Hang on!” Dad yells, trying to maneuver us between the SUVs. The Prado jolts as it scrapes the one on our right, a terrible grinding of metal.

“Get down!” Dad shouts, but the shots come before we can react.

The weapon explodes with a burst of light and sound. Bullets rip through the front of the car, and Dad jerks forward as blood splashes the windshield.

“Sean!” Mom cries, reaching toward him, but the next shots hit her, cutting her off mid-scream.

Everything slows down, even though it’s over in seconds.

I throw myself over Lila, wrapping her up in my arms as she trembles and cries beneath me.

“It’s okay, Lila,” I whisper, though my voice is shaking and tears mix with the rain on my cheeks. But it’s not okay.

Not even close.

The sharp stench of gunfire fills the car. My parents are slumped over, lifeless, and even though I can’t process it fully, I know they’re gone. But I can’t focus on that right now. Lila needs me.

She cries into my shoulder, holding on like she’ll disappear if she lets go. I stay wrapped around her, shielding her from the bloody, broken scene around us.

The Prado slows to a stop, and for a moment there’s nothing but the sound of Lila’s sobs. The silence feels endless—until hands grab me, rough and unwanted, dragging me away from her.

“No!” I cry, my voice finally breaking through as I fight to stay with her. “Don’t take her! Lila, hold my hand!”

She cries harder, clutching my arm, but it’s not enough. They’re pulling me away.

“Let go of her! That’s my sister! Please!” I shout, nails digging into skin, my voice drowned by sirens in the background.

I struggle and scream until my throat feels raw. Through the flashing lights and chaos, all I can see is Lila’s terrified face fading into the crowd.

And still, that tattoo burns in my memory—a snake and skull, seared into the night.

IVY

2 weeks later

The winding road to the cemetery is lined with towering oaks, their bare branches etched darkly against the heavy gray sky. A thin mist clings low to the ground, curling among the gravestones like a silent, ghostly shroud.

Nestled on the edge of the city, the cemetery stretches quietly across rolling hills, its weathered headstones standing like ancient sentinels, worn by time itself.

I guide my black G-Wagon through the iron gates, tires crunching on the gravel path. The air feels thick—damp earth mixing with the muted hum of sorrow that hangs over gatherings like this.

I park a short distance from the small crowd, killing the engine and sitting still for a moment, my hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. The engine’s soft growl fades away, replaced by muffled sounds from the mourners gathered ahead.

Stepping into the cool air, I adjust the lapels of my long black coat.