(NEW STORY) TAYLOR HEBERT PROLOGUE

Taylor was done.

Not with life—she wasn’t ready to cross that line yet—but she was done with everything else. Done with the endless whispered insults that made her dread walking down the hallways; with the ‘accidental’ spills that always managed to soak and stain her clothes; with the snickering that always occurred within earshot, even in the company of others. 

She was done with the silence of the teachers: the way they’d glance her way, then look past her like she wasn’t worth the paperwork; how the very walls of Winslow seemed to close in tighter around her every day.

So, on a random day in a random week of a month she couldn’t even remember, Taylor Hebert decided not to go to school again. The day had even started like any other. She woke up, got dressed, walked out the door, but instead of taking the bus or hailing a cab, she picked a random direction and just started walking.

She didn't leave a note at home to explain her absence to her dad, but it wasn't out of rebellion or something equally juvenile. It wasn't a cry for help either. If anything, it was something smaller and quieter, though no less significant. A choice born from exhaustion, but not the kind that sleep could fix. No, this was the kind of deep, bone-weary exhaustion that lived deep in your chest, in your bones, and in your every breath. The kind that left her feeling like she might shatter if one more bad thing happened, and like the mere thought of going through one more day of the same shit was impossible. 

But she couldn't stay home. Her dad would notice, and then there’d be questions. It might even necessitate a visit to the school, or worse, a conversation she wasn’t ready to have.

She couldn’t just wander around the city either. One look from some well-meaning adult or a too-curious cop, and she’d be escorted right back into that hellhole with a polite smile and a warning not to skip class again. Maybe a “let’s make better choices next time, alright?”

She needed somewhere she could disappear to, which was why she was happy to find an old office building, long-abandoned, down by the docks. Making herself as comfortable as she could be, she settled into a corner beneath a broken windowpane that let in just enough breeze to make her regret not bringing a sweater. She wrapped her arms around herself and sat there, watching the water-damaged wall gain new stains and listening to the distant scurry of rats.

It didn't look glamorous, it wasn't safe, and it certainly wasn't clean, but there were no smirking ex-best friends or teachers pretending they hadn’t seen anything. There was just peace, even with the deplorable ambient sounds. 

She’d brought a book, but couldn’t focus. The words kept slipping past her eyes without sinking in, and her thoughts drifted too easily to things she couldn’t stop replaying: old memories better left forgotten, half-formed arguments she never got to say out loud, and imagined scenes where she stood tall and told them all off.

And then, finally, with nothing to hold her attention and the day dragging on like cold molasses, boredom won. Curled up with her backpack as a pillow, spine pressed against the peeling drywall, she let the thoughts in her head quieten for just a little while.

And she slept.

. . . . .

The world was dark when she awoke. The shadows around her had lengthened, the bright golden glow of the morning had long since faded into dark blue. 

For a moment, Taylor panicked. 

Had she really slept through the entire day? Had someone found her? Was she about to get dragged out of this quiet corner by a cop or worse, a cokefiend desperate for money and wielding a rusted knife?

But there were no angry voices or approaching footsteps, just the rustle of wind through broken glass and the far-off murmur of traffic.

She sat up slowly, joints stiff from the cold and the awkward angle she’d curled into. The air had turned colder, biting even through her hoodie, and her breath fogged in the air.

Her dad was probably home by now, probably pacing the kitchen while checking the clock, and definitely wondering where she was. She felt a brief pang in her chest—guilt, he understood—but pushed it down.

Later, she told herself. I’ll deal with it later.

Sighing, Taylor slung her bag over one shoulder and stepped out of the building, her sneakers crunching over loose gravel and broken bottles. The streets were quiet this deep into the Docks, the kind of quiet that only came late, when even the crime seemed to take a break, and the few streetlights that still worked came on intermittently. It was so quiet that for a brief moment, it almost felt like the city was holding its breath.

And then the sky split open.

It started as a streak of light, fast, and impossible to ignore. At first, she thought it was a shooting star, and for a heartbeat she just stared, lips parted, and eyes wide with a kind of childlike awe she hadn’t felt in years. It was stunningly beautiful, with its odd green flames trailing behind it like a tail as it cut through the atmosphere.

But awe quickly curdled into dread as realization dawned on her. 

It wasn’t arcing harmlessly overhead to disappear below the horizon, nor was it burning itself out like meteors typically did. It was coming down, heading straight for her.

Her body locked up, paralyzed by the impossible sight, her breath caught in her throat. Time seemed to slow down as logic screamed that this wasn’t real, that meteors didn’t just target people. That the universe didn’t notice her, and didn’t care enough to aim to kill her.

But her legs wouldn’t move. Her thoughts spun out, and she was stuck staring up at the falling star that wasn’t a star at all but her impending doom.

The light grew, too bright to look at that it burned away the night, casting her shadow long across the pavement. Her heart thundered in her ears as she found herself thinking this was it; that this was how she died, not because she finally got fed up with everything and decided to take her own life, but because of random cosmic chance. 

But, though a rapid flash of light signaled its touchdown—a pulse of green light washing over the buildings like a wave—there was no explosion as expected. There wasn't even a shockwave to tear her apart or something, but only a quiet thud, somewhere nearby. And then nothing but the wind again, whispering through the streets like it hadn’t just witnessed something impossible.

She blinked as her shadow, which moments ago had stretched behind her, slowly shrank back as the glow faded.

She was still alive.

She exhaled shakily, her knees nearly giving out from the adrenaline drop. The meteor had landed, and Taylor Hebert, who had spent months invisible in her own life, now had the distinct and terrifying feeling that something out there had just noticed her.