The fluorescent lights of the hospital buzzed faintly overhead, sterile and unblinking. The waiting room was too bright, too cold, and the boys sat in it like statues — unmoving, eyes glassy, clothes still damp with sweat and fear. No one spoke.
A doctor entered, and they all stood at once.
Ko Aung stepped forward, his voice trembling. "Is he—?"
The doctor's expression gave the answer before the words came. His face was heavy with something unspoken. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, solemn.
"He didn't make it."
Silence dropped like a hammer.
"The burns were severe, and he swallowed some of it. It compromised his airway... even if he'd made it here sooner... I'm sorry."
Kyaw Lin turned away, fists clenched, jaw tight. Ko Zay sank into the nearest chair, burying his face in his hands. Ko Aung just stood there, hollowed out.
Another friend gone.
Min Zaw was dead.
They didn't get long to grieve. Within the hour, two plainclothes officers stepped into the room, flashing badges and somber expressions.
"We need to ask you a few questions," one of them said. He had a notepad already out. "We understand this is hard, but this is the second member of your group to be attacked in two days. We don't believe that's a coincidence."
Ko Aung nodded slowly, his voice distant. "What do you want to know?"
The officers sat with them, each boy questioned in turn. Their stories were messy, overlapping. Fear made memory slippery.
One of the officers flipped back a few pages in his notebook. "Earlier tonight, did Min Zaw say anything? Anything that might help us?"
Kyaw Lin looked at Ko Aung, and then to Ko Zay. He swallowed hard.
"He said... 'It's her. It's fucking her.'"
The room froze again.
"Her?" the officer repeated. "He recognized her?"
"I think so," Ko Aung said. "He looked straight at us. Screamed it."
The officer scribbled something down. "But none of you saw her?"
They all shook their heads.
"It was too dark. Too fast," Ko Zay muttered.
The officer stood. "We'll need a full list of everyone you've had contact with lately. Anyone who might've had a grudge. And I mean anyone. Think hard. Two attacks this brutal in two days — someone planned this."
The door shut behind them with a quiet click.
The boys sat in silence.
This time, the silence wasn't filled with shock. This time, it was filled with something worse:
Knowing.