“You have everyone under your spell, don’t you? Like a little witch?”
“Absolutely.”
I couldn’t help it anymore and ended up chuckling, but then the weakening need for her to reciprocate the words stabbed my heart. “Stop torturing me and tell me what I need to hear, Angel. You know I need to hear you say it.”
She turned over, her chin digging into my ribcage right above my heart. I lifted my head with my palms so I could meet her gaze.
“Oh, and what is that?” she teased again, turning the knife in my heart. It was so cruel of her, but she looked so cute killing me.
“Feeling evil today, huh?” I bit into my bottom lip, then allowed it to pop free of the bite. “You’re gonna make me beg?” I exaggerated my pathetic desperation by giving her puppy eyes. But the little coldhearted creature stared at me in silence. “Is this ’cause I was late?” She was such a playful, evil little thing. A brief, slight smile lifted the corners of her lips and eyes.
There was no answer to my probing question either.Nothing. Fuck. What do I have to do?
She was shamelessly enjoying this. She knew she was killing me by denying me the comforting reassurance I needed on the daily.
No one can love us.
She doesn’t love us. She never will.
It hurts.
Please love me! Please love me!
No. We can’t lose her.
Angel!
Her eyes studied mine though, in that way she dug into my soul, then they lowered, and I could tell she was counting my freckles. Not even three years after meeting could she stop herself from moving her lips as she counted them. I smiled. “I can’t wait to marry you, my angel. Then you’ll be forever mine. Only mine.” At the time, I had fooled myself into believing once we said ourvows to each other, I wouldn’t need her to reassure me of her love as much. The ceremony would be magical and make me feel some physical attachment to her, like two neighboring galaxies connected by a wormhole.
The first school bell rang. “Idolove you, Killian Oster.”
“You waited ’til the last minute? You littlecailleach.” I pretended to be angry with her, but it only made her giggle as we picked up our things. “Bad, evil witch. Do you know what those minutes were to me? They were years!” Her giggling only got louder. “You’re going to kill me one day.” I chased her back toward the building, hiding the fact that I felt I was about to have a heart attack. She gained a lot of space, way ahead of me, and on occasion, peeked back, still smiling. To her, it was a game, there was no way for her to know how much the dread of abandonment stabbed at me. The pain was worth it because it made her giggle. Above anything else, that’s all that mattered.
The wind lifted her long hair, wrapping it around her cheek. As the world slowed for me, I recorded the image of her in my mind, the knowledge that she would one day be the death of me cemented with it.
Good. I wanted to die for her, with her, no other way.
All weekend, I felt weak and nauseous. I thought I was recuperating by Sunday night, but then on Monday, all the symptoms returned much worse. I had no way of knowing what was going on.
Despite this new sickness, the next day, I hurried into her arms at the top of the stairs. I noticed I needed her more and more each day, as if I were losing control of my obsession. Instead of meeting her at the bench for lunch like always, I’d follow her everywhere. I couldn’t handle a minute apart from her.
I had a feeling I’d done something awful, but I couldn’t pinpoint what, or why the guilt didn’t go away unless she was right next to me.
Thesicknesseventuallywentaway, after five days, so I returned to basking in my memories with Magdalena, collecting the notes we wrote to each other and my writings of her. Sometimes, during class, she’d drop her arm down the side of her chair, and full of excitement, I’d reach over. The tips of our fingers would touch, and my body would crackle with static electricity, startling me in my own seat. When she’d take my hand in hers, the warmth would spread, melting away all the tension stiffening my muscles, and I would know I was home. I especially loved it because she’d sigh and arch her head a little toward me, making it easier for me to smell her hair. It was as intoxicating as drinking champagne.
In the time we’d known each other, we’d lived so many lifetimes together. Every day, she’d pull me from my grim reality into her dream worlds, like Earth to its moon, always keeping me afloat and close to her. As she described her dream worlds, I’d picture them.In neighboring small clouds full of warm water, close to the sun, we would bathe. Our fire- and ice-breathing dragons accompanied us as we visited the chocolatewaterfalls, and then at night, we’d ride fireflies, going from party to party, always celebrating, eating cookies and cakes and, of course, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
It was never enough, but in the little time we had together during recess, we’d chase each other, or she’d hide from me, and I would have to find her. Then, after eating, we’d lay on the grass, taking in the feel of the blades and smell of it while holding hands… It was pure heaven. Like a magical balm to a gash, it truly melted away much of the darkness I’d lived, lessening the ongoing pain.
She didn’t understand how essential she was to my every breath. How could she? I’d hidden the hell I’d lived and still was enduring at home. Every day, I’d fall from the heaven that was her arms, her eyes, back down to home, to hell. But I would do it a million times again. I’d keep running to her no matter how bad it got at home. She kept me alive.
To soak up every possible minute together, my generous beloved started riding home with me. The first time we dropped her off, I stayed in the car, staring at her house long after she’d run in. I wanted to take in the image of the home where she lived such a safe, loving life. It wasn’t as big and pretentious as my uncle’s mansion, just a nice white house full of love.
Almost every day, I asked her if she’d marry me. I was obsessed with the idea of us being together forever, but I never dared to dream she’d say yes, because not only was it obvious Magdalena was meant for greatness, it was also what I wanted for her. She deserved the world, not some abandoned, broken, lost soul like me who was just surviving the life that had been forced upon him.
The proposals had become somewhat of anaoiror a game of teasing and satire between us. Even after three years, the question still had the power to make her blush.
When she asked me how we could marry at our age and without permission, the shock knocked all thoughts out of my mind. That’s the only reason I could fathom why she’d say yes.She said yes.
