Torn

(I'm back - the original author of this weird- ass story)

"H-hello? Is-" I coughed. The fire was making it hard to breathe. "Is anyone over here?" They're all d-dead, aren't they? I thought. " There's no point. " I wheezed, collapsing under a desk. I, Cynthia Platt, leave everything to my best friends. Sheyla- I want her to have my car. Angelica- she will have my electronics- the tv, tablets, everything.
"He-Hello? Help!" A rough voice rasped.
"Where -where are you? " I answered. I rolled onto my stomach and started crawling.
"O-over here. I- I can't really breathe. " The guy's voice was beginning to falter.
" Okay, do you have anything you can shine, so I can see you, or can you keep talking to me so I can find you?" I asked, waving the smoke away from my face. I looked back at my clothes. The new white blouse and black and white striped mini skirt I picked out at the mall yesterday was partially tattered, covered in ashes, and my legs were pretty scraped up from moving through the debris. I noted a small scratch that was leaking blood- a lot of blood on the left side of my left leg.

"I- I'll talk. Wh- How did the fire happen? " He asked weakly.
I followed his voice, slithering like a snake among the broken ceiling tiles. " How should I know? I'm not God, or anyone, really. I'm a nobody. " I said sadly.
"You're not nobody- I know you're Harry's sister. " He said.
I noticed in a small corner of the room, Zayn Malik was hidden under a smoldering table, his plain white t-shirt and red and black flannel covered in black marks.
"Yeah, I'm Harry's sister. I wonder- where is everyone else? And by everyone else, I mean Angelica, Kirsten, Sheyla, my brother, and his stupid- " I raved, but stopped I saw Zayn staring at me. Really creepily. Like, seductively creepy.

Notes

*HAPPY NIALL HORAN DAY! * (March 17... XD)