JUST LIKE HER | ✔️

Daya pulled herself up the last few rungs of the rusty ladder and hauled herself onto the roof of her apartment building in New York City.

There she lay, staring up at the starless night sky.

This new city was strange.

Just. Like. Her.

This new city was different.

Just. Like. Her.

The lights of this new city were so bright that the starlight couldn't penetrate the smoky, polluted haze that hung over the city's skyscrapers like a cloud of misery and hopelessness.

Daya closed her eyes and imagined how the night sky had been back in her old country, her old home. She'd drawn her comfort from the stars. She always had.

But now her comfort had been taken away.

She rolled onto her stomach and looked out over the stricken city that had once been so majestic, so acclaimed, so renowned.

Since an invasion a few years ago, the city now looked deserted.

Just. Like. Her.

It looked abandoned.

Just. Like. Her.

There had been no explanation for the invasion. The new government hadn't offered anything to the people they now controlled.

No reason why some were killed and others weren't.

Daya had been spared.

Her family had not.

She sat up, leaning on the railing and watching the empty street below. Then a figure moved down the deserted street.

The figure never looked up, never noticed the girl leaning on the railing.

It was like she didn't belong there.

And maybe she didn't.

Maybe everything of her life here was just an illusion.

A false illusion of a permanent home.

Daya lay on her back once more, this time closing her eyes as she remembered the past. Her joyful past in her old country. Her family.

Her father, teaching her to fight for what she believed in. He was determined.

Just. Like. Her.

Her mother, teaching her to take care of herself in a hostile world. She was cautious. 

Just. Like. Her.

Her brother, teaching her to stand up for others less fortunate. He was confident.

Just. Like. Her.

And now they ware all gone, killed by the new government.

Not. Like. Her.

Daya had joined the resistance movement.

She would fight. She would protest the measures of the tyrannical government that had allowed the explosion to happen; that hadn't done a thing to minimise it's effects.

Daya sat on the railing, gaining confidence from the stricken city before she began to clamber back down the ladder.

She would fight for her family. She would win. She would be victorious for them, and for the others killed by the government.

She would fight with others who had lost family and friends.

They had hope.

Just. Like. Her.

They had courage.

Just. Like. Her.

They would fight.

Just. Like. Her.

As reached the bottom of the ladder, she saw the figure from the street standing in the shadows.

A gun was aimed at her.

A trigger was pulled.

A bullet pierced her chest.

Daya fell and lay there, motionless.

She had fought for her family, but she had lost.

Her eyes were glassy.

She was dead.

She was gone.

Just.

Like.

Them.