“They’re leaving.” I watched them wander down the street. “They must have seen you come over.”
“Maybe.” Chay sat on the couch a few minutes longer. When he was relatively certain they weren’t coming back, he stood and walked to the door. “Bye.” He slipped outside and jogged across the yard to the fence separating our houses. Jumping effortlessly over it, he made his way back home.
Not a kiss, not a hug, not even a decent goodbye. What’s up with him?
I had another dream that night. In it, Muriel and Chay were talking, just like in all of my visions. They stood in my backyard. The hobgoblins ran between their legs, laughing.
Muriel was upset about something Chay said. She yelled at him. He smiled. She raised her hand and slapped him. Still, he smiled. His mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear what he said. Muriel’s hands moved animatedly as she yelled back, her face red and her neck muscles straining.
Milayna.
I jumped up. It was just a whisper, just a faint sound, but unmistakable. They were fighting about me.
Pushing my hair back, I covered my face with both hands. I let out a breath. Slowly, I lay back in bed and pulled the quilt over me. I was tired, so tired. I tried to go back to sleep, but my mind churned with images of Chay and Muriel fighting and the single whispered word I was able to hear.
***
“We need to talk,” Chay said the moment he saw me in chem class. He didn’t say hello, nor did he kiss or even touch me.
“Okay. What about?”
“Later. Go for a drive after school?”
Chay. Blood.
The images rang through my mind so fast I almost missed them. “Sure.”
Knife. Muriel and Chay fighting. Demons.
I was having a variation of the same vision every time I was near Chay. It worried me. I bit my lip, wondering what, if anything, they were trying to tell me. I didn’t believe he would hurt me. There was another reason for the images of knives and Chay’s bloody hands. There had to be.
The school day dragged on and on. It was torture. Chay barely spoke to me. He carried my books to each class like he normally did, but he didn’t talk and he didn’t touch me. He was robotic in his motions, unfeeling, uncaring, and distant.
Finally the last bell of the day rang. I met Chay outside the gym door, and we walked to my locker to get my things before going to his. He grabbed his coat and keys, slamming his locker door shut.
“Let’s go.” He turned and walked away.
I hurried to catch up to him, jogging down the hall to match his long strides. “What’s up, Chay? You’re starting to make me nervous.” He didn’t answer.
When we got to his car, he opened the door for me and I got in, scooting the mountain of burger wrappers and fast food cups onto the floor.
He walked around the back of the car. I watched him in the side mirror. His face was hard, determined, and I felt the cold hand of dread squeeze my heart. Something was wrong. Very wrong. I could feel it. I was afraid of what waited at the end of the ride.
I looked down at my left hand, fingering the simple gold band on my finger, tracing his name etched in the metal next to mine.
We drove in silence to my house. I tried several times to start a conversation. He’d either answer with one word or ignore me altogether. I gave up and waited for him to decide to talk. As soon as we parked in my driveway, he turned to me, his expression unreadable.
“What’s wrong?” I reached for his hand. He moved it out of reach. I fisted my hand and felt the cold sting of his rejection flow through my veins straight to my heart and freeze there.
“I need a break,” he said.
“From what?”
“You. This. Us. Whatever you want to call it. I’m done.”
My heart stopped for a beat. I felt it stutter painfully in my chest. My breathing became quick and shallow, making me dizzy. He’d been moody, but this… this I didn’t expect.
“I hope we can work past any awkwardness,” he continued. “We’ll still have to work together, especially until this Abaddon thing is taken care of.”
“Work together.” I nodded. It was the only thing I could process. My brain refused to accept what he was telling me. We were done? He was breaking up with me?
“Yeah, I’ll still be around when the group needs me.”
“You’re… breaking up with me?” Tears pushed at the back of my eyes.
“Yes.”
A tear escaped and slid down my cheek. I swiped it away with the back of my hand. I looked at him; the lines of his face were hard. He wasn’t the loving, caring Chay I’d fallen in love with. I wasn’t sure who I was looking at.
“Why?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer. He stared at me without emotion.
“You… I mean… we love—”
“I don’t love you.”
And my heart broke. I heard it. I felt it. Pieces bounced around inside my chest, slicing me to pieces. It was as if someone took a hammer to it. Up to that point in my life, nothing had hurt so much as those four words.
I don’t love you.