Look, I know girls love Beyoncé.
Girls love to fuck with your conscience.
Girls hate when n*ggas go missing.
And shawty, you ain't no different.
Onika (G!P)
Completed.
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THIRD POINT OF VIEW
Onika was lying on the couch, her head resting on Beyonce's lap. The TV played softly in the background, but she wasn't really paying attention. Her girlfriend's fingers moved gently through her hair, calming, familiar.
It was the kind of moment that made her feel safe—like nothing else in the world mattered.
The steady sound of her girlfriend's breathing filled the quiet space between them, soft and rhythmic. It soothed something in Onika's chest, slowed her thoughts. She let herself sink into it, let her guard down for the first time in what felt like forever.
Coming to New York had been the right choice—she felt that now more than ever. Not just for the change, not just to escape everything back home, but for her. This girl. The way she held Onika without asking her to be anyone else. The way she made her believe in things she'd stopped believing in a long time ago.
Onika smiled to herself, eyes still closed, a warm thought pressing against her heart: I'm gonna marry her one day.
She opened her eyes and looked up at her Beyoncé, studying her face like it was the only thing she ever wanted to see. Her voice came out in a sleepy mumble.
"I love you."
"No you don't." Beyoncé looked down at her with a soft smile—right before her face began to blur.
Something was off. Beyoncé's face—soft and beautiful—began to change. It shifted, slowly, like smoke being pulled away by wind. Onika blinked, sat up.
"Hey..." she whispered, but the face was already gone.
And in her place stood Lamar.
He was still. Watching. A quiet, eerie calm on his face. Onika's breath caught in her throat. Her muscles tensed.
"Get away from her," she snapped, voice sharp and shaky. She didn't wait—she charged. Tried to throw herself at him, to protect what was hers.
But her foot caught on nothing.
She fell hard—straight down into blackness. No floor. Just falling. Then, darkness turned to noise. Whispers. Faces.
Familiar.
Haunting.
People she thought she'd forgotten. People she'd killed. One by one, they appeared around her, their eyes locked on her like they knew everything. She tried to move. Tried to scream. But her body was frozen. Her chest wouldn't rise.
She was suffocating.
Tears burned at the edges of her eyes. Her mind spun. Guilt. Fear. Rage. It all wrapped around her like chains. Her lungs begged for air.
Then—
She shot up in bed, gasping, drenched in cold sweat. Her heart slammed against her ribs like it was trying to break out.
