Oliver
The smell of candles drifts in the breeze.
The dim glow casts shadows over faces. I move to the front, feeling Lyra’s absence immediately.
The look in her eyes yesterday, mixed with this sharp ache of today, presses in all at once.
She doesn’t know how much effort it takes not to follow her every waking moment.
No idea what she has unlocked. This role doesn’t fit anymore.
Somewhere along the way, Lyra slipped in and started to matter in a way I never accounted for.
Or maybe I did know all along but pushed the thought aside.
I go directly to Amelia's parents. Her mom looks composed, considering she just lost a daughter. Her father is stoic as he shakes my hand. Leo looks like he’s suffering from the worst hangover of his life.
Face pallid, eyes red-rimmed. Leo didn’t care about Amelia.
Not really. Not like I care about Lyra. The idea of her being gone does something unpleasant to my breathing.
My chest stalls. That’s new, and I don’t know if I like it.
I peel her off me. Now I need a shower and Lyra’s bodywash to smell like her again. “Jade, I don’t think you want to make a scene right now,” I whisper with a forced smile.
Her mouth parts. “I need you.”
“Need me?” I laugh once, leaning so close that anyone passing by would think I’m comforting a grieving friend. “Tell me, do you remember the party? Or were you too drunk and high to notice you were fucking a completely blacked-out Leo?”
Her face drains of color. “This is because of Lyra, all of this. Poor Lyra, being put in her place for once in her perfect life.” I’ve had enough. She isn’t worth the oxygen.
I lean even closer, voice a blade against her ear.
“Here’s your reality: touch me again, speak Lyra’s name, and everyone on this island will watch what you did.
I will burn your name to the ground as the video plays right behind you.
” She stumbles back, shaken. I don’t give her another look. She isn’t worth it.
I move to the photo and place the candle down. The flame catches, illuminating a face I never cared to memorize.
Lyra is not here. Neither are Callan, Vienna, or Roxy. Their absence claws at me, but I reel it in. She can run, and I will follow. Call it obsession. I call it something I don’t know how to stop.