Ophelia
“No Air-Jordan Sparks & Chris Brown”
Laying in my bed, I stare at the dark outline of my window, waiting for Hayden to climb through it like he does almost every night. Usually he taps twice on the glass before sliding it open with that crooked grin already waiting for me. Like sneaking into my room is the only thing keeping him alive. But tonight, the window stays still. No tapping. No grin. No Hayden.
He told me at school he had to “handle something” with Justin before coming over. Those words have been clawing at me for hours now, because nothing Hayden and Justin do together has ever ended well. Trouble follows them like a second shadow.
My father always says Hayden is poisonous. A boy born broken who will do nothing but drag me down with him. But my father has never looked at me the way Hayden does. Like I’m something worth protecting—like I’m his favorite thing in this ugly world.
Hayden is my forever boy. My first kiss, my first love—my first everything.
The memory crashes into me so hard my chest aches.
The night we lost our virginities. Hayden touched me like I was something fragile and sacred. He went slow when I cried, and kissed every tear away like he hated the sight of them. Whispered how beautiful I was until I stopped shaking.
No one has ever loved me gently except him. And God, Hayden tries, he really does.
But rage lives inside him just waiting to be let loose. I’ve seen it crawl beneath his skin. Seen it twist his face into someone almost unrecognizable. Trauma and abandonment carved him into jagged edges long before I met him.
Sometimes his anger scares me. It feels like I'm standing too close to a lightning strike and yet… I still love him anyway.
Beneath all the fury is a boy who pounds his fists against his chest like Tarzan while kneeling on my bed yelling, “I’m a man, O! I’ll provide for my family myself!” The boy who’d rather starve than take my money.
The boy who takes care of his alcoholic mother while barely surviving himself. The boy who carries the weight of the world like he deserves the pain of it.
My chest tightens as I glance at the clock again. 11:47 p.m. He’s never this late. And when he is, he texts me. Always.
Not tonight.
Fear curls around my chest, squeezing tighter with every passing second. I roll over, grabbing my phone with trembling fingers, and text him.
Me:
Hey Babe, are you still sneaking in tonight? I’m a little worried.
The message delivers but no response. Every minute feels like swallowing glass as another hour goes by. So I text again.
Me:
Hayden, You're scaring me. Where are you?
Three dots appear instantly and relief floods me so fast I could cry. Then his message comes through.
Hayden:
I’m sorry, Firefly, I love you always.
My stomach drops and I almost throw up.No. No. No.
Me:
I love you too, Hayden. What is going on?
Nothing.
Me:
Hayden?
