Milayna's Angel

by Michelle K. Pickett

  “I need a break,” he said.

  “From what?”

  “You. This. Us. Whatever you want to call it. I’m done.”

  My heart stopped for a beat. I felt it stutter painfully in my chest. My breathing became quick and shallow, making me dizzy. He’d been moody, but this… this I didn’t expect.

  “I hope we can work past any awkwardness,” he continued. “We’ll still have to work together, especially until this Abaddon thing is taken care of.”

  “Work together.” I nodded. It was the only thing I could process. My brain refused to accept what he was telling me. We were done? He was breaking up with me?

  “Yeah, I’ll still be around when the group needs me.”

  “You’re… breaking up with me?” Tears pushed at the back of my eyes.

  “Yes.”

  A tear escaped and slid down my cheek. I swiped it away with the back of my hand. I looked at him; the lines of his face were hard. He wasn’t the loving, caring Chay I’d fallen in love with. I wasn’t sure who I was looking at.

  “Why?” I whispered.

  He didn’t answer. He stared at me without emotion.

  “You… I mean… we love—”

  “I don’t love you.”

  And my heart broke. I heard it. I felt it. Pieces bounced around inside my chest, slicing me to pieces. It was as if someone took a hammer to it. Up to that point in my life, nothing had hurt so much as those four words.

  I don’t love you.

  “But…” I didn’t know what to say. I struggled to find the right words, to make him understand that life without him seemed unbearable. To make him understand that I loved him. Only him.

  I didn’t realize I was twirling the ring he’d given me around my finger. The metal, cool and smooth against my fingertips, represented everything he was taking away.

  “Keep the ring. I don’t have any use for it.” With that, he got out of the car and walked to my door, opening it.

  I sat for a few seconds, processing what had just happened—what he’d just done. Slowly, I gathered my things and climbed out of the car.

  My internal self-preservation kicked in, and heartbreak rapidly turned to anger. I stood in front of him, the open car door between us. Slipping the ring off my finger, I flung it at him. It hit him in the face. I smiled slightly when he flinched.

  “Keep your damn ring.” I walked away.

  I made it to the foyer before I lost it. Dropping my things on the floor, I stood staring, seeing nothing, before I crumpled to my knees and sobbed.

  What just happened? How can I face him again?

  His words rang through my head over and over.

  I don’t love you.

  They bounced around in my skull like a ball in a pinball machine. Each time they hit, another piece of my heart broke. I wondered how many pieces a heart could break into before it stopped beating altogether. I was sure I’d find out.

  I wasn’t sure how long I sat crying on the cold, wooden floor in the foyer. Shadows moved across the wall, and the room grew dark around me. Still, I didn’t get up. It wasn’t until I heard my dad’s key in the back door that I grabbed my things and hurried upstairs. I wasn’t ready to face anyone yet. I wasn’t ready to tell anyone. Then it’d be real. If I didn’t say it out loud, maybe it would go away and things would go back to normal.

  I lay across my bed and cried. My nose ran and mixed with my tears. I didn’t care. I only had one thought—Chay and the four words that had just crushed my life.

  I don’t love you.

  ***

  My room grew dark. I still lay across my bed in the same position I was hours before. My mom had come upstairs to get me for dinner. She knew immediately something was wrong. I had to tell her. Reliving it, hearing it out loud, was almost worse than living through it the first time. I didn’t go downstairs for dinner, and I couldn’t eat the plate of food she brought me. The thought of food made my stomach churn and bile rise in my throat.

  I just wanted to melt away. Forget the day ever happened. Stay in my room until the pain disappeared.

  A thought occurred to me, and I sat up on my bed. That must be what my visions were about. The blood, the knife, it was all metaphorical. He stabbed me in the heart when he broke up with me. Somewhere, somehow, I knew it was coming. My subconscious mind knew. The visions were a way to warn me, to prepare me for the horrible pain. It didn’t work. Nothing would have prepared me for it. Nothing.

  I reached for my cell phone and called my grams. I needed the purple couch. I felt safe when I snuggled into the soft pillows. My grandma was an eccentric old lady—angel—the kind of woman who had a purple couch in a bright yellow and red living room. Somehow, it worked. It looked cool and I loved it there, with the sassy purple couch and comfy handmade quilts.

  “Hello?” she answered.

  “Grams…” I started to cry. Or maybe I’d never stopped. Either way, I couldn’t get any words to come out, just sobs.

  “Come on over, child. We’ll work out whatever it is.”

  My dad drove me to my gram’s apartment and I snuggled on the couch, pulling a patchwork quilt over me. I could hear my dad telling her what’d happened.

  “Hmm,” I heard her say. “Let her stay here for a couple of nights. A change of scenery will do her good.”

  ***

  I lay on the purple couch for days. I didn’t eat. I didn’t bathe. I barely slept. I just laid there… thinking. And hurting. Mostly hurting. I felt hollow inside. It was as if he ripped my very core out. They only thing he left was my heart, broken and battered. It kept me alive—barely. So I could hurt. Think. Remember. And then hurt some more.

  Sunday afternoon, my grams announced, “Okay. It’s been long enough.”

  I slowly turned my head toward her. Everything hurt. My eyes ached from crying. My nose was chapped. My head hurt. My heart hurt. It plodded along in my chest. I could almost feel it slowly, painfully constricting, pushing my gelatinous blood through my aching veins…okay, maybe that was a little melodramatic, but I hurt. My heart was in pieces, and I didn’t think it’d ever be whole again. I wasn’t sure I wanted it to be. Chay was all I wanted. Without him, what was the point?

  “What’s been long enough?” I wrapped the edge of my quilt around my finger.

  “You’ve sulked long enough. No boy is worth this many tears.”

  Chay is.

  “It’s time to get up, take a shower, and rejoin the living.”

  “Not yet.” I sighed and closed my eyes.

  “Yes. Now.” She wheeled her wheelchair to the couch and looked at me square in the eye. “Get up and get into the shower. I’m cooking something to eat, and you’re gonna eat it. Now go.”

  Slowly, I slid off the couch and forced my feet to move across the floor toward the bathroom. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Just that simple task was enough to exhaust me. I just wanted to sleep. When I slept, I didn’t think. But when I slept, I dreamed, and Chay’s face, cold and hard, haunted me.

  I don’t love you.

  Flipping on the water, I stepped in the shower and let it run over me. I lathered my hair with my grams’ lavender-scented shampoo, running my fingers through the snarls and knots.

  I stood under the pulsing water until it turned cold, and I was shivering. My teeth chattering, I turned off the water and toweled off, pulling on a thick pair of sweats. I walked into the living area, flopped back down on the purple couch, and snuggled under a soft quilt.

  “You have school tomorrow—”

  I opened my mouth to argue. I wasn’t ready to go back to school. I wasn’t ready to see Chay.

  “I promised your dad I’d get you there,” my grams said quickly before I could argue.

  ***

  The next morning I got ready for school. I didn’t try to talk my way out of it. I knew I was lucky my family let me sulk as long as they did.

  My grandmother was confined to a wheelchair. Unless she was going to w
heel me on her lap the ten miles to school, I had to find other transportation. Luckily, she had a lot of friends. Mrs. Richardson offered to drive me.

  She was an old lady with eyes dull from cataracts. She drove like a bat out of Hell. I saw my life flash before my eyes several times during the ride, but somehow, we made it to school. I wasn’t sure if I was happy about that or not, but I was relieved that I made the trip in one piece.

  “Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Richardson. My cousin will give me a ride this afternoon.” I waved as her car bounced off the curb she’d jumped when pulling up to the school.

  I decided I’d ask Muriel for a ride to and from school while I was staying with Grams. I’d pay her gas, whatever, as long as I didn’t have to ride with Mrs. Richardson again. My stress level was already high enough.

  I took a deep breath, turned around, and faced the school building.

  I’m not ready. I don’t want to go in there and face him, face everyone. Maybe I can call a taxi and go home.

  “Hey.”

  I turned and smiled. “Hi.”

  “Grams said she was forcing you to come today,” Muriel said. “Wanna walk in together?”

  I let out the breath I was holding and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  Muriel and I walked to our locker together and grabbed the books we needed. People said hi as we passed them in the hallway. I noticed a few staring a little longer than normal, but not too many. I should have known Chay wouldn’t have told anyone. He wasn’t the social type.

  “No one knows?” I looked at Muriel.

  “Just a handful of people. I’m not sure how they found out.”

  “Well, everyone is gonna know after today.” We stood outside the door to my first period class. Chemistry. I dreaded chemistry. Chay and I sat together—we were lab partners. How was I supposed to face him?

  “I’ll see you next hour.” Muriel gave me a hug. “You’re stronger than this, Milayna. He’s a jackass for letting you go. No one else in school will put up with his moods.” She grinned, and I had to laugh.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  “Of course I am.” She gave me one final squeeze and walked toward her first period class. She was halfway down the hall when she yelled, “Colossal jackass!” over her shoulder.

  I could still bolt. It’s not too late to get the heck outta here. Yeah, right. Just get it over with.

  “Milayna?” my teacher called when I walked into class.

  “Yes?”

  “Chay Roberts has transferred out of the class. You and Xavier will be lab partners for the duration of the school year.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I turned and saw Xavier sitting in the seat where Chay usually sat. My heart lurched and my breakfast bubbled in my stomach, climbing up my throat.

  No, this isn’t right.

  “Xavier, do you mind if we sit at your table instead?”

  “Sure. It doesn’t make any difference to me.” He gathered his things and tossed them to the table behind him.

  I sat next to him and waited for the inevitable questioning to begin.

  “He’s a fool,” Xavier whispered.

  “Who is?”

  He let out a breath and shook his head. “Chay. He’s a fool to leave you.”

  “What makes you think he has?” I pulled my chemistry book out of my bag.

  “The group knows.” My face heated from the blush I was sure covered it. The group knew. Great. “We need to know these kinds of things, Milayna. Otherwise, we can’t do our jobs.”

  I nodded.

  I found out later that Chay had also transferred out of the English class we shared. In a way, even though it stung, I was glad. That left only one class I had to face him in. Calculus—as if it wasn’t torture enough on its own.

  Walking into class, I passed his desk without looking at him. I was proud of myself. It wasn’t until I sat down and looked at the board for the daily assignment that my bravado faltered. He was watching me over his shoulder, his eyes boring into me. I smiled coolly and flipped him the bird. His lips twitched, holding back a grin. I was glad he found something to smile about. I hadn’t.

  By lunch, it seemed everyone in the school knew our dirty little secret. I heard the hushed whispers as I walked by tables in the cafeteria, or desks in class. I saw the stares in the hallway and the looks of pity from people walking by.

  “It’ll get better,” Grams told me after school that afternoon. “There’ll be new gossip in a day or two, and you and the idiot will be old news.”

  “I hope so.” I curled up on my favorite couch. I could’ve lived on it forever.

  “Take it from me, the wise old woman. I know these things. High-schoolers are a fickle bunch. As soon as they smell blood in the water, they start circling, but they can’t resist another juicy piece of gossip. Soon they’ll move on, and so will you.”

  17

  The Date

  It’d been more than three weeks since Chay broke it off. I rarely saw him at school and when I did, he didn’t look at me, much less speak. He came to my house once because the hobgoblins were running around making nuisances of themselves. He stood in the far back corner of the yard and watched. He didn’t come up to the house and when the little red pains in the ass had their say, he jumped the fence and jogged home without a word.

  “So…” Xavier said slowly one morning in class. “I was wondering something.”

  I sighed. “What?” I really didn’t want to talk. I just wanted to finish the chemistry lab we were working on and then crawl into the fetal position in the corner of the room and sleep the rest of the day.

  “Have you found your rebound guy yet?”

  I wasn’t sure what I was expecting him to say, but that definitely wasn’t it. “What do you mean?”

  “You know, the guy you date right after a bad break up. The relationship usually doesn’t go anywhere, it’s just a, you know, rebound thing.”

  “Ah, no. I haven’t found my rebound guy.” I looked down at my chemistry book.

  Please, please, please don’t let this go where I think it’s gonna.

  “Because I could help you with that.”

  And there it is.

  “Thanks, Xavier, but I’m not ready to date… even a rebound guy.”

  “Then don’t date me. Just go out with me Friday night. We can call it whatever you want.”

  “Xavier—”

  “C’mon, Milayna. Just friends. We can even invite the other group members.”

  “Um…” I looked up at the ceiling, drumming my pen against my lower lip. “I guess if it’s a group thing—minus Chay, of course.”

  As it turned out, the other group members all had plans Friday night that didn’t involve babysitting Xavier and me on our non-date, date.

  “Come on, Muriel, you have to go,” I pleaded on the way home from school.

  “Sorry. Drew and I have plans.”

  I flopped back in the car’s seat and folded my arms over my chest.

  I knew this was a bad idea.

  Muriel glanced at me before making a right turn into our subdivision. “Why don’t you want to go out with him anyway?”

  He’s not Chay.

  “Not ready to date yet,” I muttered.

  “Pssh, you should get ready. Xavier is nice, sexy, funny, sexy, smart and, oh yeah, sexy as hell. Besides, if you didn’t want to go out with him, why’d you say you would?”

  “I thought you’d have my back. It was supposed to be a group thing.”

  “Sorry, chick, not this time,” Muriel said with a sympathetic smile. Or maybe it was a pitying smile. At the time, I didn’t care. I was trying to figure out a way to get out of going with Xavier on Friday.

  ***

  The clenching in my stomach started after dinner. I was hoping it was just the fish my mom force fed me, but I knew better. The pain grew, traveling up my body and lodging in my throat. It was like a tumor, growing and growing until I thought it’d punch through my skin. Then, just when
I thought I couldn’t stand it any longer, my head started to pound. It throbbed with each beat of my heart, my vision blurring with each contraction.

  I waited for the images to begin. As soon as the vision played out, the pain would go away and I could finish my stupid calculus homework.

  My house. Screaming. My brother, bloodied.

  Sucking in a sharp breath, I scrambled off the bed. I stood with my back against the wall, my eyes moving back and forth as the vision’s images zoomed past them.

  My mother crying. A man sitting in the living room. His back is to me. He laughs.

  My heart stuttered, and the pain in my chest grew sharp, stabbing. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

  My father begging, pleading. The man throws his head back with a loud laugh. The smell of sulfur hangs heavy in the air. It clogs my nostrils. I feel it filling my lungs like sand with each breath I take.

  I concentrated so hard on the images in my head, trying to make sense of them, to figure out who the mysterious man sitting in my parent’s living room was, I almost missed the sound. Just a whisper, really.

  I’m coming for them, Milayna.

  I screamed.

  “Milayna!” my dad yelled.

  “I’m okay… just stubbed my toe. It’s fine.” I wasn’t sure why I lied, but it felt like the thing to do at the time. How could I explain a vision to my parents I didn’t understand myself? It would only upset them.

  Padding into my bathroom, I splashed some cold water on my face and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My green eyes were dull, filled with confusion and something else.

  Fear.

  ***

  Friday. I’d hoped it wouldn’t come.

  “We’re still good for tonight right? No cold feet?”