Ryin

Ryin tried to act unbothered, she was anything but. From the second the Uber pulled away from Dorian’s townhouse, her stomach had been in knots. The cold morning air hadn’t done much to settle the heat of panic rising under her skin.

She stared out the window the whole ride home, but her thoughts stayed stuck on Dorian. The way he’d looked at her when he found the messages. . . like she was a stranger he didn’t recognize.

She hadn’t cried.

But she’d come close.

Her mind spiraled the whole ride:

Did he tell Zoie?

Did he call Tony?

What if Zoie already knew? What if everything blew up before she had the chance to explain? If there even was a worthy explanation.

She’d called and texted Tony not long after she left Dorian’s house.

Ryin: We need to talk. NOW.

Tony: I’m working a 12. Meet me behind the store near the end of my shift. 9:30.

He hadn’t answered her call. Just sent that one cold reply, like she was a problem he was scheduling around. Typical.

By the time she got back to her house, her nerves were shot. Her pulse didn’t slow even after a hot shower and a few hours of hiding in her room.

Her cousin Stephen noticed. Of course he did.

He’d been staying in one of her older brothers’ old rooms since Wednesday night, in town with his parents for Thanksgiving break. Ryin was used to his observant energy. He was one of the few people who could tell when something was wrong without her having to say a word.

She’d barely eaten dinner. Barely said three words.

And still, Stephen didn’t press. He just watched her quietly until they were clearing plates, then asked casually, “Want me to take you somewhere? Get you out of here for a bit?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. That’d be good.”

Moments later they were buckling up in his parents’ car.

“You want me to just drop you near the plaza?” Stephen asked skeptically as they backed out of the driveway.

“Yeah,” Ryin said, adjusting the sleeves of her cream-colored shirt. “Zoie and I are meeting at Aéropostale. She needs a break from studying.”

That, of course, was a lie.

Zoie was at home, hunched over her notes with caffeine, prepping for her upcoming practicals. She was studying to become a radiologic technologist at the Medical Institute of Ventura Lakes, and she hadn’t budged from her books all day. Ryin knew this. She’d texted her that morning.

But Stephen didn’t question it.

He just nodded, the look in his eyes unreadable. “Cool. Call me and I’ll circle back later.”

He didn’t need to know the truth.

That she was meeting Tony.

  ***

Tony was deep into a twelve-hour shift at Urban Drape Studios, the kind of store that only hired pretty boys with sharp jawlines and aesthetically curated Instagram feeds. His dress shirts were always perfectly rolled at the sleeves, his slacks tailored, his cologne subtle but expensive. He looked the part and played it well.

But Ryin knew who he really was.

And shamefully, she loved him anyway. She always had, since the eighth grade. Back when things were simple. Back when he wasn’t so cruel.

Before the arrogance.

Before the lies.

Before she learned that loving Tony would always mean losing parts of herself.

She stepped out near the back entrance of Westview Plaza, waving off Stephen. “Thanks. I’ll text when I’m done.”

Her outfit was effortless. Zoie would’ve called it a “neutral baddie fit.” Cream long-sleeve shirt. Tan puffer vest. Brown sweatpants that hugged her hips. Cream Air Maxes. Her lip gloss was fading, and her dark hair was clipped back in a claw clip, a few loose strands falling against her face.

Her reflection in a storefront window looked put together.

But inside, she was a mess.

And the closer it got to 9:30, the more she felt like she wouldn’t be able to hold herself together much longer.

As she walked behind the boutique, the cold wind sliced at her cheeks, but she barely felt it. The closer she got, the faster her heart hammered in her chest. Her breath caught halfway up her throat, each step heavier than the last.

Tony was already there, pacing like a caged animal beneath a flickering alley light. The glow cast sharp shadows across his face.

He didn’t greet her. Didn’t ask if she was okay.

“Talk,” he snapped the moment she stepped within range.

Her voice trembled, but she forced the words out. “Dorian knows.”

Tony stopped mid-step. He turned slowly, his jaw tightening. “Knows what, Ry?”

“About us.”

His entire posture shifted. Shoulders squared. Brows furrowed. He took a slow step toward her.

“What did you tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him anything,” she said quickly, her voice rising. “He went through my phone while I was asleep this morning—”

“You’re kidding me,” Tony muttered, dragging a hand down his face as the realization hit him. That must’ve been what Dorian was calling about earlier.

“I’m not. I came to warn you so you can get ahead of it before Zoie—”

“Don’t bring her into this,” he growled.

“She’s already in it! She’s your girlfriend—”

“I said shut the fuck up!”

She stepped back. “You don’t get to act mad. You’ve been using me—”

That’s when he snapped.

He lunged.

His open hand struck her in the throat, right beneath her chin, forcing the breath from her lungs. She stumbled back, coughing violently as her hands flew to her neck.

Before she could recover, he grabbed the front of her vest and slammed her into the brick wall. Her skull cracked against it so hard her knees buckled.

Stars exploded behind her eyes. She tried to scream, but his hand was already back around her throat, squeezing.

“You let him find out on purpose, didn’t you?” Tony hissed, spit flying.

“I didn’t—” she rasped, clawing at his wrist.

“You wanted this to blow up. You’re jealous of me and Zoie. You’ve always been jealous of her!”

Her nails dug into his forearm, desperate to make him let go.

“This is your fucking fault. All of it. You couldn't handle being second, so you set me up.”

He threw her down hard onto the gravel.

Her knees slammed against the ground. Her left wrist twisted beneath her, a crack echoing in her ears as pain shot up her arm. She screamed—but it came out broken and thin.

Then came the kick.

His foot rammed into her stomach once, then again, until she folded in on herself, gasping for air, the taste of bile rising in her throat.

“You think you can fucking ruin me?” he barked.

He yanked her by the hair, dragging her across the gravel. Her shoes scraped. Her hip burned against the ground. She couldn’t even fight—her limbs wouldn’t move fast enough.

“Tony—please—” she sobbed. “Please—stop—”

“If Zoie finds out, if anyone finds out, I swear to God, Ryin, I’ll end you.”

He grabbed her face, fingers digging into her cheeks so hard her jaw popped. Then he shoved her backward. The sudden motion forced her teeth down onto her tongue. Warm blood filled her mouth. She coughed once.

And then

He rolled down his sleeves.

Adjusted his collar.

Scanned his badge on the keypad by the back entrance and disappeared inside.

Gone.

Just like that.

Like it was nothing.

Like she was nothing.

Ryin lay twisted on the cold gravel, gasping. Her face burned. Her ribs throbbed. Her wrist. . .  she couldn’t move it.

The alley spun around her, the world narrowing into nothing but pain and cold.

She didn’t cry. She couldn’t.

Her body wouldn’t let her.

Every movement hurt, but somehow she forced herself to her feet. Her steps were uneven, her side on fire, but she kept moving, limping toward the front of the plaza.

She collapsed onto a metal bench at the bus stop, her body folding in half.

The streetlight above flickered, bathing her in a sickly yellow glow.

She pulled out her phone with her good hand, thumb shaking as she unlocked the screen. She tried calling Dorian.

Blocked.

Of course.

She stared at his name on her call list for a few seconds before it disappeared, leaving her own reflection staring back from the dark screen. Her fingers shook too hard to type, so she tapped the call symbol beside Zoie’s name. 

It rang once.

Twice.

“Hello?”

Her voice cracked. “Can you come get me?”

“Ryin?” Zoie’s voice sharpened. “Where are you?”

“Bus stop. Near Westview Plaza.”

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“I—I just really need you to come get me,” Ryin whispered. “Please.”

“I’m on my way,” Zoie replied without hesitation.

The line went dead.

Ryin looked down at her phone and tapped the screen.

Nothing.

She pressed the power button. A low-battery icon flashed before the screen went black again.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t fix her hair.

Didn’t wipe the blood.

Her tongue still bled. She could taste it. Her fingers were swollen. Her wrist throbbed with a slow, relentless pain. Her shirt was stained. The skin on her knees burned raw.

She pulled the hood of her puffer vest over her head, hiding her face from passing cars.

The wind howled. The bench creaked.

And under her breath, shaking, barely audible, she muttered,

“I can’t let Zoie find out.”

But even as she said it, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep the truth from coming out.

And that’s when the tears finally started to fall.