Reborn for Ruin

ZAYLA

I couldn’t feel anything.

Not my limbs. Not my breath. Not even the pain that used to crawl beneath my skin like fire ants.

There was only silence. A heavy, endless silence. Like the world had gone mute and left me behind.

I think… I died.

I remember the pressure. The darkness. The sting of betrayal in his eyes before everything went black. I remember his voice, trembling — “Zayla, wake up.”

But I didn’t.

And for a moment, I was okay with that.

But something pulled me. Something cruel. Something stubborn and unfinished inside me refused to rest.

Then…

A sharp, painful gasp tore from my throat as I woke up with a jolt. My lungs seized like they'd been dry for days. My fingers trembled as they clutched the sheets. My body shook as I drew breath after breath, wild and greedy.

My chest burned and my body ached, as I tried to sit up. My eyes stung from the brightness of the room, and adjusted to it.

I was in my room.

In my parent's mansion.

Not the cold marble floor. Not his bedroom.

Confused, I stumbled off the bed, nearly crashing into the vanity. My breath hitched. My heart was thunder.

I looked in the mirror, and slowly blinked. I looked Disoriented. Drenched in sweat. My fingers slowly traced my neck and touched my throat. There were no bruises. No blood. My ribs—whole. My lips—dry but intact. Not even a single pain.

“No,” I whispered, backing away. My body still trembling.

I grabbed my phone and checked the date.

11:34pm. 4th June.

Twas the night before the wedding.

Before the beatings.

Before I died.

Tears slipped down my cheeks before I could stop them. My body shook, remembering every blow. Every scream he made me swallow. Every single plea.

I dropped the phone.

My legs gave out. I sank to the floor and wrapped my arms around myself like they could keep me from shattering.

A second chance? But why me?

Why bring me back… to this?

I was alive again and I was terrified of what had happened in my previous life. But amidst my fear, something boiled inside me.

Rage? Revenge?

Against who? The very people who'd wrong me and led to my death in my previous life.

I had just stopped shaking when the door creaked open.

“Zayla?” my mother. Her voice, soft and sharp. Always pretending concern was love.

She stepped in with a tray — jollof rice, pepper chicken, and fresh juice.

“You need your strength,” she said, setting it down. “Tomorrow’s your big day.”

I said nothing.

She hovered, her eyes scanned my face like I was a bomb she helped build. “Don’t try anything foolish again. We’ve come too far. You will marry Lugard. He’s a good man.”

I almost laughed. But I nodded instead — the perfect, obedient daughter. Her lips twitched into a satisfied smile before she left.

I waited until her footsteps disappeared, then stood and flushed the food down the toilet. Every grain. Every trace.

I wasn’t eating anything they gave me. Not anymore.

I needed to find a way to stop this marriage—to escape for now. I can't die twice, in my story. I am the main character.

A thought crossed my mind. Perfect.

I searched the room like a scavenger. Pulled out the drawers, kicked the boxes, turned over and smashed memories I didn't want to see.

Then I found what I was looking for.

Tucked in an old purse behind my wardrobe, leftover painkillers, antibiotics, expired sleeping pills — from when I had been sick some time ago.

I sat on the floor and stared at them.

A slow smile stretched across my face. My hands shook as I opened every blister pack. Crushed the pills into dust with the base of my perfume bottle.

I felt nothing. Not even sympathy. If they didn't care about me, then why should I?

I grabbed two glass cups, filled them with juice from the fridge, and stirred in the powdered drugs until they vanished.

Then I picked up the tray and walked to the living room.

They were seated on the couch — my father with his glasses on, reading the news on his tablet. My mother flipping through fabric swatches for the stupid wedding, that's never going to happen.

I placed the tray down gently, like I was offering peace.

“I brought you something,” I said. “I just… wanted to say thank you.”

They looked up, surprised.

“I know I’ve been difficult,” I continued, voice trembling just right, “but I've realize now that you only want what’s best. Lugard just called me, and… All I can say is that he's sweet… he’s strong. Stable. Now, I understand why you chose him.” The words I hadn't even practiced, flowed through my throat, tasted sweet in my mouth and went out of my lips—sweet lies.

Tears welled in my eyes as I spoke, the kind that evoked emotions.

My mother’s eyes softened. My father gave a nod of approval, the kind that used to make me feel like I existed.

I smiled through the burn in my throat.

“I love you both,” I whispered. “I mean it.”

“I may not have been the best the daughter, but if saving the family's company is the last thing I do for my family, I'd be glad to it.” I took the glasses and handed it to them, “And this juice? It's the last juice coming from me as your single daughter, for tomorrow I'd be a married daughter.” I smiled, and blinked to let my tears fall.

They each took a glass. “We love you too, honey,” they chorused in unison.

“To Zayla.” They Raised it. Toasted and drank it.

I sat between them, hands in my lap, and waited. Smiling in between. I'm certain my cheeks would hurt later.

Time blurred. The drug had taken effect. Because their eyes glazed. Their face twisted to that of pain. My father dropped his tablet, and reached for his stomach.

My mother groaned, clutching her stomach, as if it could press the pain away.

I sat still, registering each of the expression like a movie.

“Zayla…” she coughed. “What have you done?”

“Like you don't know the answer. Did you really think I'd sit and watch myself walk into that monster’s arms again?”

“Of course not.” I chuckled.

“You ungrateful…” she didn't finish her curse when she collapsed sideways, groaning.

“Foolish,” I said softly. “All this power, and you never saw me.”

They writhed. My father tried to speak. I took the house passcard from his pocket, grabbed his phone, her phone, and the car keys.

I didn’t look back.

I ran back to my room. Grabbed a backpack and stuffed clothes into it. I jammed shoes on my feet, grabbed the backpack and my cell phone and ran to the front door.

“Oh Shit.”

The guards were posted outside — three of them.

“I need to see Lugard,” I said, voice tight, urgent. “He’s waiting. My parents sent me with a message.”

One of them frowned. “At this hour?”

I flashed the passcard. Jangled the keys. “They’re expecting you two, in there. Something about the security settings,” I lied. “You can call. But if you delay, you know your employers better.”

They hesitated.

I didn’t blink. Funny how these lies easily slipped out of my lips before I could even think of it—like it was waiting. And guess what? I loved it.

Finally, they nodded and stepped aside. I slid into my father’s car, heart thudding against my ribs like a war drum.

The other one had already gone to open the gates.

Without hesitation, I gripped the wheel, slammed my foot down hard against the pedal and vanished into the night.

I didn’t know where I was going.

But I knew one thing.

I was going to come back — for Lugard Blade.