When My Lover Chose My Bully Over Me

Eliam Robinson pushed the front door open, and the overpowering reek of alcohol hit him like a freight train. On the couch lay a shadowy figure, surrounded by empty beer cans scattered across the floor. He moved quietly, trying to slip past, but the figure suddenly opened her eyes.

"Stop."

Eliam froze, his back stiffening.

Hadassah Robinson swayed as she tried to stand, her words slurring. "Did you finish your applications? What'd you pick? Oxford? Cambridge? I'm talking to you!"

"Cambridge."

Hadassah snorted, her expression turning sharp. "What good is that? A Cambridge degree won't make you rich. You have any idea how hard it is for me to pay for your school? Starting tomorrow, you're working at the factory, got it?"

Eliam's grip tightened on his backpack strap, his voice even. "I'm not going. I need to work on my portfolio over the summer."

"Portfolio?" Hadassah snatched up an empty can and hurled it at him, missing his head by inches. "You think you're some kind of artist? Get real! I'm telling you, either you get a job or you're out of this house!"

Eliam looked at her, her face bloated from drink, just like he remembered. In another life, he'd heard these exact words and, in a panic, had run to Luciana for refuge. She'd taken him into her tiny apartment, and for a while, he'd thought that was his salvation.

This time, he didn't cry.

"Fine. I'll move out."

He turned toward his cramped, cluttered room to pack. A few clothes, some art books, a box of pencils.

Hadassah stumbled after him, leaning against the doorframe, her words hard and cutting. "Move out? Where you gonna go? To that Washington girl? Look at her family, then look at ours. You chase after her, you'll end up tossed aside!"

Eliam's hands shook uncontrollably.

"Your mother did the same thing," Hadassah spat. "Chasing after your father, that broke, useless loser. And what happened? He bailed! Now you're doing it all over again, running after women without a shred of shame!"

Eliam stood in the dim room, each word a knife twisting deeper into his chest. He thought he'd built walls strong enough to take anything, but those words — 'tossed aside' — hit a deep nerve. Because he'd been discarded before. By a wife, by his children, by the whole damn world.

Frozen in place, his nails bit into his palms, eyes burning with tears he refused to let fall.

Just then, a voice came from behind.

"Mrs. Robinson, that's enough."

The voice was cold, like a blade of ice, yet every word was crisp and clear.

Eliam spun around.

Luciana stood in the doorway, her coat draped over her arm, hair tousled from the wind. The hallway light spilled around her, wrapping her in a soft halo, illuminating her fresh, determined face. Seventeen-year-old Luciana.

She threw a cautious glance at Eliam, her eyes full of care and understanding. Then she turned back, her gaze sharp and unwavering.

"He's not chasing anyone, and he's definitely not shameless," Luciana said, her voice calm but firm. "He's the best person I've ever known. You don't get to talk about him like that."

Eliam swallowed hard, his eyes stinging.

At fifteen, Luciana had stood up to Hadassah, fierce as anything. "Touch him again and you'll regret it."

At sixteen, when the homeroom teacher accused him of misconduct, Luciana had risen and said, "I pursued him. It's not his fault."

At seventeen, at his grandfather's funeral, with gossip buzzing all around, she'd protected him, confronting every whisper without a second thought.

Countless memories flooded his mind, each one a dull blade slicing into his heart.

He still loved her.

Even knowing how it would end, even after dying once on that operating table, his heart still raced at the sight of her — and broke all over again as she fought for him.

But this love hurt too much.

So much it nearly knocked him off his feet.

"Ha," Hadassah sneered, her face struggling to hold its composure. "You talk real big now, but one day you'll leave him too…"

"I won't." Luciana cut in, her voice soft yet unshakeable, holding a certainty far beyond her seventeen years.

Eliam squeezed his eyes shut, trying to suppress the ache tearing through his chest. He wanted to say something, but his throat was too tight, words refusing to come.

Suddenly, rapid footsteps pounded down the hall.

Junior Silva burst through the door, panicked. "Eliam, you in here? Something's happened! Something bad!"

Junior's voice trembled with urgency. "Camilo Morrison bombed his exams — his predicted grades are way below average. He's on the school roof, threatening to jump. Teachers, students, everyone's there, but he won't listen to a soul. He keeps asking for—"

Junior's eyes darted to Luciana.

"He wants you, Luciana. Says if you don't come, he's jumping."

Eliam felt the blood drain from his face.

"I'll go see him."

Luciana didn't hesitate. She spun around and ran for the door.

Eliam stood in the shadows, a storm raging inside his heart.