Unraveled

8.

Onika's POV

The night air wraps around me like a cool blanket as I stand outside the house, the dim porch light casting a soft glow on everything around me. I flick the lighter and watch the flame dance for a moment before bringing it to the blunt, inhaling deeply. The smoke curls upward, swirling into the starry sky, and I take a moment to let it fill my lungs.

I lean against the railing, the wood rough against my palms, and let my thoughts wander. It's quiet here, a welcome escape from the chaos in my head. I glance up at the stars, so distant and bright, and I can't help but think of Dad. It's been years, but the pain feels fresh, like a wound that never really healed. I close my eyes, remembering his laughter, the way he used to wrap his arms around me and make everything feel okay.

But then I feel a stab of guilt. Why does he have to be gone? I should be stronger, should be able to carry on without this heaviness pulling me down. I open my eyes, exhaling slowly, watching the smoke drift away.

Lauren's voice breaks through my thoughts, and I look back at the house. She's always been there for me, even when I don't deserve it. I think about how she puts up with my moods, the nights I can't sleep, the days I just shut down. She's my anchor, my constant, and yet I feel like I'm dragging her down with me.

And then there's Beyoncé. I think about the times I've dreamed of her, of her kindness, her fierce strength. The way she seems to shine, pulling everyone up with her light. I envy that, that power to lift others while I feel like I'm just stumbling through life.

I take another hit, the smoke wrapping around me like a warm hug, but it doesn't quite ease the ache in my heart. I should be grateful for Lauren, for everything she does, but the darkness creeps in, whispering that I'm not worthy of her love.

I exhale, watching the smoke dissipate into the night. I wish I could be the person she sees, the person who deserves all this kindness. But for now, all I can do is stand here, lost in my thoughts, and hope that maybe—just maybe—I can find a way to be better.

I take another drag, the familiar rush calming my nerves for a moment, but it's fleeting. The weight of my thoughts drags me down again. I can hear the distant sounds of the city—cars humming by, the faint laughter of neighbors—and for a second, I almost feel connected to it all. Almost.

But then my mind wanders back to Dad. I wonder what he would think if he could see me now. Would he be proud? Disappointed? I can almost hear his voice, a gentle reminder that life is messy, but it's ours to navigate. I wish I could turn back time, just for a moment, to feel his warmth one more time, to ask him all the questions that haunt me.

The night deepens, and I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the glass door—my hair a mess, eyes puffy and tired. I barely recognize the person staring back at me. There's a flicker of something in that gaze, though, a hint of strength buried beneath layers of doubt and fear. I want to dig it out, to hold onto it, but it feels so far away.

"Hey, you okay out there?" Lauren's voice calls from inside, pulling me from my thoughts. I can hear the concern laced in her tone, and it tugs at my heart.

"Yeah, just... thinking," I reply, my voice quieter than I intended.

"Do you want me to come out?" she asks, her footsteps getting closer.

I hesitate. Part of me wants to let her in, to share the whirlwind in my mind, but another part is scared. Scared of what she'll see, of the darkness I've been wrestling with. I shake my head, even though she can't see me.

"I'm fine. Just needed some air."

"Okay, but if you need anything, I'm right here." Her voice is warm, like a cozy blanket on a cold night.