Ryin

Ryin rolled over in bed and rubbed her eyes. They were raw, stinging from the constant crying that had blurred the past few days into one murky stretch of nothing. The room smelled stale like old food and sweat. She hadn’t changed out of the same oversized t-shirt and shorts all week. Her tailbone-length hair, usually her crown of shiny, dark silk, clung to her scalp in greasy tangles. There was a faint sourness beneath her arms, but she couldn’t find the strength to care. 

She sat up slowly, elbows on her knees, head in her hands.

He’s going to kill me. 

The thought replayed like a broken record she couldn’t switch off.

I can never go home.

A single tear fell, tracing a cold line down her cheek. Then another.

After Thanksgiving break, she’d returned to Saratoga University hoping that putting distance between herself and Virginia would help. That being back on campus in upstate New York, far from Tony and his threats, might make her feel safer. And for a little while, it had.

Until the voicemail.

“I lost my fuckin’ job because of you, you fuckin’ bitch! I’ma kill your stupid ass! Just wait!”

He had called from a blocked number, but she knew his voice immediately.

Her gaze drifted to the small napkin under her pillow, folded neatly around a few Ambien pills she had stolen from her mother. She left them there, just in case.

The night before they caught the train to return to school, Stephen had begged her to tell him who hurt her. But Ryin shut down. Told him it was nothing. Because if she said it out loud, she was scared that Tony would somehow find out. 

***

Tony hadn’t always been someone to fear. In eighth grade, he had been the boy everyone wanted. Curly hair. Smooth charm. His confidence bordered on arrogance. All the girls giggled around him and tried to impress him. Ryin hadn’t. She thought he was obnoxious, loud and attention-hungry.

And somehow, that made her the one he wanted. 

He started by giving her gifts. A teddy bear and candy on Valentine’s Day. An Easter bunny and chocolates before spring break. Things he handed over in front of the whole class, making her the center of attention even when she hadn’t asked to be.

He started to walk her to class and linger in the hall by her locker. During lunch he would give her his dessert off his tray. Slowly, she started liking him. By the the end of the school year rolled around, he was waiting at the school entrance each morning just to carry her bag. She had fallen head over heels for him.

One hot day while her parents and brothers weren’t home, she let him in the house. It was innocent, until it wasn’t. He kissed her, touched her, pressed her.

“I don’t think I’m ready,” she whispered, pushing his hand away.

“I thought you loved me.”

“I do. . .”

“Doesn’t seem like it.” He stood to leave.

Her heart dropped. “Wait, come back.” She reached for him in a panic. “I’m sorry. I am ready.” She forced a smile, even as her stomach flipped.

That was the day she lost her virginity. Not because she wanted to, but because she was scared he’d stop loving her if she said no.

She thought they’d be forever. Instead, things had shifted significantly by the end of summer. 

Tony’s dad was laid off. His mother’s income couldn’t cover the bills alone, so they moved into a smaller, more affordable apartment. Tony and his little brother, Jasper, were sent to live with their grandparents. They were strict, wealthy, and incredibly private. They enrolled the boys at Crestwood Academy, an elite private school across the city. Ryin stayed at her neighborhood zoned school.

She wasn’t allowed to visit the grandparents’ house, so they saw each other less. But every weekend Tony and Jasper would stay with their parents, and that’s when Ryin would ride two buses and walk ten minutes just to see him. Every Saturday. Rain or shine.

One weekend, she got a Facebook friend request from a guy at her school. Tony saw it.
“That’s because you be dressin’ like a little slut,” he snapped, snatching her phone. 

When she reached to grab it back, he shoved her, hard. She fell, hitting her head on the kitchen counter, leaving a purple, swollen knot. 

“Look what you made me do,” he yelled.

She told her parents she bumped it on a cabinet door. Even tried to convince herself it was an accident. But things like that kept happening. Verbal jabs, silent treatments, and moments of affection followed by sudden cruelty. Eventually, she stopped questioning him and stopped pushing back. She apologized for things she hadn’t done. She waited for crumbs of approval, measuring her worth in emojis and two-word texts.

Then Zoie came.

They met during a summer course just before their sophomore year of high school. Both of them enrolled in an accelerated Literature and Composition class offered through the district. Ryin had seen her around the building before; a new transfer from South Florida with long braids and a bubbly personality. They were grouped together on the second day of class for a writing exercise, and by the time lunch rolled around, they were laughing like they’d known each other for years.

Ryin never told her about Tony.

Instead, she made up a long-distance boyfriend named “Jay” who went to Santa Clara University and they couldn’t be seen together in public because Ryin was “technically still a minor.” Zoie believed her. Listened. Gave advice. Trusted her. The lies just got easier over time and the friendship deepened.

She kept up the story even after Tony — her Tony — walked up to their table at the mall. Zoie had no idea who he was. He sat beside her, smiled politely, complimenting her while acting like Ryin didn’t exist. Ryin hadn’t seen him that charming since he was giving her gifts in front of their whole eighth grade class. Within a week, Zoie and Tony were dating. And Ryin said nothing.

She watched Zoie fall hard. Listened to her gush about thoughtful texts and gifts from him. Watched Instagram posts with captions like My Person and He's the best. Sweet things Tony had never said to Ryin. She smiled through it all and swallowed every emotion like poison. The jealousy came quietly. First, as envy. Then, as comparison. Eventually, as bitterness. By Junior year, the friendship Ryin once loved and cherished was secretly deteriorating, and Zoie was none the wiser.

She started telling more made-up stories. Bragged about guys she didn’t care about. Said she was going on dates, then got dressed up just to post a picture and go nowhere. She just wanted Tony to see and he did.

He came back to her in pieces. Testing her again. Sending texts and hinting he missed her. She didn’t make it easy. This time, Ryin was cold. She responded the way he used to: short and uninterested. It made him try harder. She told herself it was revenge. That it was power.

He showed up unannounced the Friday of Valentine's Day weekend with pink carnations and a cheap necklace. The small card that came with the flowers wasn't even signed. It was evident that very little effort was put into the gift. She snuck him in that night, feeling like she had won.

Until that Sunday, when Valentine's Day came around, Zoie got a single rose and a bear holding a box that contained a sparkling wishbone heart ring from Pandora.

"Just one?" Ryin asked, scrunching up her face.

"Yup," Zoie replied happily, holding out her hand to admire her ring. Then she beamed as she read the tiny card out loud, "'A single red rose means love at first sight'."

Ryin lips curled into a fake smile, “Aww, that’s so sweet.”
Mine was better, she thought. But she didn’t believe it. Her fingers gripping her purse strap tightly, her nails digging into the leather. Watching the delicate ring catch the light, glittering like a tiny trophy she would never win, made her chest burn. 

A few weeks later, she met Dorian. 

Zoie invited her to Tony’s place. 

“He said he wants you to meet someone,” she said, adjusting her earrings. 

Ryin hesitated. “He actually said that?” 

“Yes!” Zoie beamed. “He mentioned a friend.” 

But when they arrived and Tony opened the door, his glare said otherwise. 

"I hope you don't mind; I wanted Ryin to come." Zoie kissed him as she walked in. 

Tony's facial expression softened. "No, it's fine." He smiled at her. 

Ryin could tell he was being fake nice, and it made her skin crawl. 

The tiny apartment smelled like gardenias, chili, and cinnamon. Ryin recognized the scents from the countless weekends she would come there. It hadn’t changed since her last visit. The same bright woven blankets on the couch, same clay pottery lined up neatly on the shelf, and same painted wooden cross above the door frame. The decor leaned proudly into their father’s Mexican roots. 

Jasper was lounging on the couch, headset on, shouting into the gaming system until he noticed Zoie. His face lit up, and he sat up, pulling off the headset. “Hey, Zoie,” he said with a lopsided grin, his voice unexpectedly soft. 

Ryin hovered just inside the doorway, suddenly feeling like a guest in a place that used to feel familiar. Tony didn’t speak to her. He gave a quick nod toward the back bedroom and walked off, leaving her to follow in silence. 

Inside, the spare room had two XL twin beds and a beat-up dresser, with a stereo sitting on top. Ryin dropped onto the edge of one of the beds and pulled out her phone. Zoie and Tony sat on the edge of the other, talking quietly.  

After a minute, Zoie nudged Tony. “So, who you inviting for Ryin?” 

“What?” Tony tried to mask his irritation, but Ryin could see right through it. Zoie, on the other hand, was oblivious.

“You said you had a friend for her.” 

“I ain’t say all that.” He scoffed. 

Ryin didn’t even look up from her phone screen. “Please don’t try to force some awkward blind date. I’m fine, thanks.” 

Zoie ignored her. “What about the tall one you hoop with sometimes? The really chill one?” 

“You mean David?” 

“No, not him. The other one. Darien?” 

Tony corrected her with a scoff. “It’s Dorian. And he not coming.” 

“You didn’t even ask yet.” 

Tony sighed, pulled out his phone, and typed: 

Tony: WYD 

Dorian: Watching a show on Netflix. Wassup? 

Tony: Come thru. Zoie and her friend over here 

Dorian: I’m good 

“He said no.” Tony sounded like he was glad. 

“You barely asked,” Zoie said. “Tell him her name. Send him the pic I sent you earlier.” 

Tony muttered something under his breath but did what she asked. He forwarded the photo of the two girls that Zoie had taken on the bus earlier and typed: 

Tony: That’s her. Her name’s Ryin. 

Dorian: Give me 20 

“He’s coming,” Tony said flatly. 

Zoie plopped down next to Ryin and clapped her hands together. “Yesss. Girl, you’re gonna like him.” 

Ryin rolled her eyes. “Don’t hype him up. Now I’m expecting Michael B. Jordan, and I’ll be mad if he’s not.” 

Zoie laughed. “He’s cute in a different kind of way. You’ll see.” She was more excited than Ryin was. 

"Let me see a pic." Ryin didn't plan to seriously talk to him; she just wanted to get under Tony's skin. 

Zoie pulled out her phone and was trying to open Instagram when Tony rushed over.  

"Okay! Y'all doing too fuckin' much! Damn!" He grabbed Zoie by the arm and snatched the phone out of her hand. 

"Owe, that hurt. What's your problem?!" Zoie snatched her arm out of his grasp and started rubbing it. 

Ryin smirked. “Jealous?” 

“Of what?” he shot back, eyes narrowing. 

She leaned into the sarcasm. “You tell me.” 

He didn’t respond. Instead, he turned back to Zoie and tried to soften up. "You're so sensitive." He kissed her arm, kissed her cheek, and then kissed her lips. "Toughen up," he said before walking out of the room. 

Twenty minutes later, Tony came back into the room with someone trailing behind him. 

Dorian. 

He was tall — over six feet for sure — and lean with broad shoulders and a relaxed posture. He had warm beige skin and neatly cropped sandy blonde curls. He wore a black windbreaker and gray joggers. Ryin thought he was cute at first, and then he smiled, and she noticed his braces, and the comparisons began. Tony has naturally straight teeth, she thought. She also thought that Dorian’s body looked young and boyish compared to Tony’s, who was 5'10" with a broader, athletic build. The braces and lack of facial hair weren't doing it for her. It just made her yearn for when Tony would lay his head in her lap while she played with his goatee. 

“This Dorian,” Tony muttered. 

“Sup,” Dorian said, giving a casual nod. 

“This is my best friend, Ryin,” Zoie said, nudging Ryin’s knee with hers. 

Ryin gave him a slow once-over. “Hey.” 

The boys sat down on the bed across from the girls. Zoie was clearly thrilled with herself, but Tony kept tapping through his phone, annoyed and withdrawn. After a few minutes of light conversation between the four of them, Zoie suddenly stood up. 

“Come here real quick,” she said to Tony. 

He followed her out of the room, closing the door behind them. 

Silence settled over the room. 

Dorian leaned back against the wall, stretching out his legs. Ryin continued scrolling through her phone until she felt him watching her. She didn’t look up. 

“What are you looking at?” she finally asked. 

“You,” he said, plain and unapologetic. 

“For what?” 

“I just think you’re pretty, that’s all.” 

She glanced up at him, caught off guard. “Thanks. . . I guess.” 

He looked amused. “You always this friendly?” 

“Depends on the day.” 

There was a long pause. 

“I can leave if I’m bothering you,” he said, pushing off the wall. 

Ryin rolled her eyes. “You’re so annoying,” she muttered.

He turned. “What?” 

She stood, walked over to him slowly, then grabbed the collar of his windbreaker. “You heard me,” she whispered. She kissed him—once, then twice. The second kiss lingered. When she pulled back, he didn’t speak. He leaned forward, kissed her again, then slipped his hands to her waist. 

Her breath caught in her throat. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he carefully lifted her, her legs instinctively curling around his hips. He walked her back to the bed, kissing her softly, then deeper, until the rest of the world disappeared. 

She remembered the way his hand trembled slightly against her thigh. The way he paused, like he was asking for permission without saying a word. She remembered nodding. 

They didn’t rush. 

He was nothing like Tony. 

No pressure, no coldness, no control. He was slow, gentle and patient. 

Afterward, they got dressed and sat in quiet stillness. He traced lazy circles on her arm while she leaned against him. 

And that was how it started. 

Ryin didn’t know why she had kissed him, or what this would turn into. Whatever it was, she didn’t expect it to last. 

That night wasn’t love. But it was. . . something. 

They started seeing each other more. Texting. Hanging out. He was kind in ways she wasn’t used to. He was gentle, respectful, and affectionate. It unnerved her. She didn’t know what to do with soft love. She picked fights. Tested him. Pushed trying to get him to snap, but he never did. Then she would cry until he forgave her. It was the only cycle she knew. She just didn’t know how to love gently, only how to fight, withdraw, and manipulate. Dorian was kind. And she. . . wasn’t. She used him by weaponizing their moments together when Tony was around. She knew it, but Dorian didn’t. 

They both got accepted to a school from their top three choices. Dorian to Trinity University in their home state Virginia and Ryin to Saratoga University in upstate New York. 

“Maybe we should take a break”, he suggested. 

She was adamant that they continue dating and assured him a long-distance relationship would work, even though she didn’t truly care if it did or didn't. 

He paused, then smiled and nodded. 

But his eyes said he didn’t believe her. 

She kept up appearances once she moved to Saratoga. Still posted thirst traps. Still bragged about attention. She slept with one guy on the water polo team, Colin Howe. They barely spoke outside of the bed. Just little texts here and there. The validation was hollow, but it numbed her. 

She still watched Tony’s socials. Every Instagram and Twitter post. Every Facebook status update. The only thing she didn't check was Snapchat, because she didn't want him to know she watched his snaps. His intermittent silence toward her only made her check more. 

Eventually, she stopped calling and texting him, then just like clock work, he would begin contacting her more frequently, saying he missed her and describing how much he wanted to be next to her. Falling into their usual toxic cycle. Then she started treating Dorian the same way. Cold, one word text replies. Not returning phone calls. Creating arguments just to have a reason not to answer the next time he called. 

And then came their fallout. 

She hadn’t planned to go back to Virginia for Thanksgiving break. 

The original plan was to celebrate in New York. Stephen’s parents were going to host at their house in Westchester. Ryin was supposed to spend Thanksgiving morning helping her aunt prep, laughing in the kitchen together, and avoiding anything that reminded her of home. 

But things changed when her older brothers, Luca and Matteo, said they’d be bringing their fiancée and wife to their parents’ house instead of celebrating with their in-laws. With everyone finally in one place and the guest list growing, it made more sense for the family to just stay local. 

So Ryin packed a bag and rode to Virginia with Stephen and his parents. 

At first, it wasn’t terrible. But the longer she stayed, the more suffocating it became. Worse, Tony started ignoring her. 

No texts or calls. 

And she hated how much that still affected her. She no longer had the upper hand in their cat and mouse game. 

So, she did what she always did. She redirected her attention toward someone who actually cared. 

Dorian. 

She hadn’t spoken to him in weeks prior to coming home for Thanksgiving, not since she picked a fight out of nowhere over a missed FaceTime. She accused him of not caring, of getting distant, of “acting brand new.” None of it was true. He’d been patient and consistent. 

She just didn’t know how to exist in peace. 

When it came to a relationship, she only knew how to argue. How to lie. How to push people away until they left on their own, then mourn them like they’d vanished unfairly. 

She hadn’t meant to hurt him. The sadness in his eyes that morning he had gone through her phone still haunted her.

***

Back in New York, school felt like a dream someone else was having. She drifted through the first few classes of the week like a ghost, then stopped showing up altogether. When her professors emailed, she ignored them. When Colin texted “You good?” or “Are we not talking anymore?”, she left him on read. 

She didn’t know how to explain the shift. It was like something inside her had rotted. The flirtation, the hookups, the casual nudes, they meant nothing now. Not after that night. Not after Tony's hands were around her neck, his breath hot with rage, and her back pressed against the wall. It wasn’t sexy or messy. It was terrifying. Looking back on everything, she couldn’t believe how childish and naïve she was for playing silly little games for so long. And all for what? 

She had lied to everyone about him for so long, she didn’t know how to start telling the truth now. Not even to herself. 

She hadn’t responded to Zoie in days. Her best friend had called, texted, even DM’d her. 

Zoie: Just checking in. 

Zoie: Are you okay? 

Zoie: Call me, please. 

Ryin stared at those messages until the words blurred. Her thumb hovered over Zoie’s name more than once, but she never hit call. Never responded to any messages. Because how do you explain years of betrayal in a single conversation? 

Zoie had been the one person who never judged her, never treated her like she was broken. And Ryin had let Tony twist that into something ugly. She let jealousy fester into deceit. The guilt lived in her chest like a second heartbeat, pounding constantly. 

She picked up her notebook from the nightstand too quickly, knocking her alarm clock to the ground. The plastic casing cracked open, batteries rolling in opposite directions like they were trying to escape her too. She stared at the mess, unmoved. She flipped open the notebook and tried to write — anything, even a sentence — but the page stayed empty. Her tears fell harder, soaking the edges of her paper. Another assignment undone. Another piece of her falling through the cracks. 

Her fingers trembled as she reached under her pillow and pulled out the folded napkin with the Ambien pills she had tucked away. She tossed two into her mouth and swallowed them dry. Then she laid back down, pulling the covers up to her chin like they could protect her from everything waiting on the other side of consciousness. 

Stephen had called three times that day. She sent each call to voicemail. She was too ashamed. He didn’t deserve her silence. But she didn’t know how to explain the weight she carried without breaking completely. She slept most of the day, only waking to scroll through old Instagram stories of her and Zoie, when they were happy, when she was happy. Sometimes she wondered if any of it had ever been real. Or if she was only playing dress-up, pretending everything was ok. 

She reached for her phone again. More missed calls. More unread texts. But there was one new text message that made her bolt upright and her stomach drop. 

Zoie: Call me. I know it was Tony. 

Ryin froze. Her throat tightened. Her vision blurred. How? How could she possibly know? 

Her fingers moved before her brain could catch up. She opened Instagram. Deleted the whole account. Then she moved to Twitter, Facebook and lastly, Snapchat. Deleted them all. 

She called her phone company and requested a number change. 

The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful. It was suffocating. 

She turned her phone face-down, then laid back down and stared at the ceiling. Her chest rose and fell too fast. Her body trembled, riddled with anxiety and fear. The world was unraveling, and she had no one left to hold the threads together. Lying in her dorm room, alone, phone number changed and all social media accounts erased, Ryin wished over and over that time would rewind. Because if that was possible, she would had never gone home for Thanksgiving break.