I didn’t say a word, didn’t make a sound, but my mind was on fire, my soul being ripped apart. I just sat there, holding my head, trying to gain back my sanity.
Ladies and Gentlemen, the letter of the day isO.Ois for Oblivious and Oblivion.
MyMagdalenahadchangedso much of my lifeand me, but she was completely oblivious.
She’d split each of my days in half—heaven and hell. When she’d walk up those steps closer to me and say hi with too wide of a smile, almost giggling, nervous; and when I’d sit behind her, listening to every beat of her voice, smelling her hair, then meeting for lunch, only to listen to her again… that was the purest of heavens. The safety of her allowed me to soak up her innocence so for a few minutes I, too, could be innocent. Her world full of cheer became mine for that brief time on the daily.
Even though I had to work so hard making sure I didn’t say anything weird to keep her safe from the hell that was the otherhalf of my life, it was beyond worth it. She was rain to a desert; blood and oxygen to my dying heart.
I couldn’t let my heaven mix with my hell. All the darkness had to stay home. I had to push it to a corner of my mind, and no matter how much of it scratched at the inside of my brain with its sharp talons, wanting to come out, I had to ignore it. It was all for her, to keep her safe from it, to not ruin her. But also, it was for me, to not scare her away, to keep my angel, my heaven for as long as possible.
She thought I’d been sick for a few weeks with pneumonia because that’s what we told everyone. But the truth was that Uncle Ricard had beaten me until my body had lost almost all semblance of life. I was still in pain because he’d broken three of my ribs. This time was because I had been sneaking into his office and taking the books from his shelves to read without permission. So, the day I returned, during recess, I stood behind the bushes, waiting for her to join me, hoping she wouldn’t notice how much pain I was in.
The last time we’d talked, she’d told me her mum didn’t allow her to eat sweets as often as she wished. Since she always brought me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I figured the least I could do was bring as many sweets as possible for her to gobble up at her own discretion. I ended up having to beg the cook for two days before we spent a night making chocolate chip cookies. The next day, I brought them in my backpack and whispered to Magdalena in the morning to convince Bessie to lend us her phone so we could listen to some music.
It was funny how obvious it was that Magdalena had never broken a rule in her life. I might as well have told her to rob a bank with me. When she snuck out of lunch, she bolted out the back of the building, running to me, failing miserably to hide what she was holding in her hands. Thank God the coach andthe football team behind us weren’t paying enough attention. Immediately, she shoved it to my chest.
“Good job. Come… Let’s hide,” I whispered, then pulled her to the other side of the bush where no one could see us.
As we lay down, “Summertime Sadness”playing in the split headphones we were sharing, I asked, “What songs do you like?”
“Just keep playing Lana Del Ray. Mom and I listen to her a lot.” I nodded while searching for the surprise in my bag.
When I showed her the bag of cookies, her mouth fell open.Success.“Look what I brought today. But”—I held my finger in the air, informing her I had a condition— “you have to answer my questions with honest answers.”
“Okay.” Her ecstatic smile stayed while her gaze shifted from my face to the cookies as if she were starving for them.
“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
“This.” She chuckled as if the simple deed had deemed her a little demon, with her palms covering her mouth, then unsuccessfully reached for the cookies. I pulled them away.
“Really?” I laughed even though the pain made me feel as if my body would collapse.
“God, Magdalena, you’re such a Goody Two-shoes.” I was surprised she wasn’t upset by my observation. Her lips had thinned and spread into a subtle fake smile.
“Don’t you get bored from being such a perfect Goody Two-shoes?”
“That’s not what I am.”
“What? Oh, come on. I’ve been watching you for months now, Angel. You’re nice to everybody, answer all the teachers’ questions, do all the homework assignments. Explain to me how my impression of you is wrong?” I handed her a cookie, and she savored it while shrugging.
“I mean… that’s what we’re supposed to do, right?”
“But doesn’t it get boring following every rule?”
She moved her eyes from the sky to me. We were so close it hurt my eyes to look at her, so I shuffled a few inches away then turned on my side so I could really enjoy the sight of her, and she mirrored my action.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“Always.”
“I’m not a good person. I think... I’m a very evil villain, Killian.” She nodded with her eyebrows lifted, trying to convince me.
I wrinkled my forehead, confused. To think of her as imperfect was not something my mind was prepared to do. “How can you say that?”
She shrugged. I could tell she was uncomfortable because she couldn’t look me in the eyes anymore. “Fine.” I sighed. “What makes you the villain?”
“It’s not what I do. Thank God. It’s what I think. And sometimes, I…”
