I flip through the pages quickly, my heart pounding as I confirm my suspicions. Names. Dates. Incidents. They’re all there, written down in the ink of my despair.
I struggle to fall asleep again, wondering where he went, but I know exactly where he’s gone.
When Shadow returns, he simply slides next to me in bed and holds me. It’s less than thirty minutes until dawn—until he has to go.
"What did you do?" I ask, my heart pounding in my chest. From anticipation? Fear?
"You are more important than you could ever know," Shadow says instead of answering my question. "Never forget that. I need you. I want you in this world. If you did anything to yourself, you would be doing it to both of us."
Tears choke off any words I could think of saying. Each statement lands like the blow of a massive gong, vibrating through the marrow of my bones. I believe him. I wonder if he could know what it really means to me.
Snarp levitates from my desk and flies into my arms, where he nestles in for a hug, until I’m actively cuddling my stuffed parrot and loving my monster more than life itself.
Velvet shadow tendrils caress my hair and back before he slips away beneath the bed.
I go to school the next day bracing myself for the usual torment, but it never comes.
Instead, there’s a strange tension in the air, a buzz of unease that seems to cling to those who have made my life miserable. They avoid my gaze, keep their distance, and for the first time, their silence speaks volumes. Something has changed, and I don’t need to ask to know what—or who—has made the difference.
Days pass into weeks, and the tormentors of my past become phantoms. It’s as if they’ve been spooked by something that keeps them far from me.
I never ask Shadow what he did, and he never volunteers the information, but the next time our eyes meet—no words are needed.
He’ll always protect me when I need it.
On a night we spend reading again—he likes when I read A Wrinkle in Time out loud—I can’t take it anymore.
Pausing the story, I set the book down. "Thank you."
I don’t say for what, and I don’t have to.
Something in the shift of his shadows tells me he knows that I know. The monster under my bed traveled to the bedrooms of my enemies to promise hellfire and blood or whatever if they didn’t stop.
My guardian, my protector, my dark knight.
And as I drift off to sleep, I realize that while I may be broken, with Shadow by my side, I’ll never be alone.
Burning Butterflies
14 Years Old
The more Dana hints at adopting me, the harder I fight the hope building inside me.
It’s not that Mark and Dana are the parents I’ve always dreamed of; it’s just that the relief of knowing where I’ll land next is too precious to ignore.
In the four years I’ve been here, I’ve grown accustomed to their quirks—Mark’s mood swings, Dana’s week-long depressions where I’d become her caretaker—bringing her food, water, sometimes even washing her. They are the devils I know.
So, when the social services worker walks in and we all sit down in the living room, my heart vaults into my throat, fluttering like a hopeful butterfly. I hold my breath, afraid even a blink will crush the moment.
But the moment the agent says I’m being moved again, it feels as though someone has cruelly torn the wings off that butterfly, setting them alight while the tiny creature screams in unimaginable agony.
Mark’s face stays blank, but I catch the faint glimmer of smug satisfaction in his eyes. Dana, on the other hand, avoids my gaze, her eyes set on a spot over my shoulder as she offers a brittle smile, murmuring how she’s enjoyed our time together. Dana’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. It wilts, like she’s already mourning me.
It hits me then—I’ve become a burden, taking up too much of Dana’s attention, and Mark wants me gone. She can’t say no to him.
Maybe love does exist, but it’s not the dream everyone makes it out to be.
Love is a waterlogged dungeon—airless, lightless, with just enough room to jut your head up for one desperate, strangled breath. It’s a relentless pressure, a submersion that won’t let you resurface, that holds you as if you’re chained to the ocean floor.
