Fire Burning

You're All I Have

The sky looked like bruised skin. Thick clouds hung low over the neighborhood, pressing down on everything like they could smother it if they tried hard enough. I stood on the porch in Riley’s hoodie, my arms wrapped tightly around myself, leggings clinging to legs that still ached from the night before. My whole body felt sore, like it was holding onto something I couldn’t name. I hadn’t slept. My eyes burned. My mouth tasted like guilt and silence. I kept thinking if I stood still enough, maybe I could disappear into the air.

Riley’s truck turned the corner, headlights slicing through the gray. My chest tightened the way it always did. Not from excitement. From that pause, that moment of wondering who I was about to get. Sweet Riley or the one who made my voice go quiet. The engine didn’t sound angry, but that didn’t mean anything.

He pulled up to the curb. I got in. Closed the door without a word. The second the latch clicked, the silence changed.

“You just gonna sulk all morning?” he said before we’d even passed the first stop sign. His voice wasn’t angry yet — just sharp.

I didn’t answer right away. My fingers were laced in my lap, sleeves pulled over my hands. “I’m not sulking.”

“You didn’t text me last night. Didn’t say goodnight. Didn’t say thank you.”

“I was tired.”

“So now I’m a burden?” he snapped, louder. “You get to sleep like a baby while I’m sitting there wondering what the fuck I did wrong?”

“I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Then say it right!”

He hit the steering wheel hard with his palm. The horn jerked through the cab, and I flinched back into the seat.

His hand moved fast. He reached across and gripped the back of my neck — not like a boyfriend, not like someone trying to be close. It was a hold. A warning. My body went rigid.

“You forget who takes care of you?”

“No,” I whispered.

“Say it.”

“You take care of me.”

He let go. His hand slid down and landed on my thigh, right over the sore spot from two nights ago. His fingers pressed. Not affectionate. Testing.

“You’re mine, Emery.”

“I know.”

The rest of the drive stayed quiet. The kind of quiet that didn’t feel safe.

We walked into school together, his hand on my wrist like a leash. People moved around us in waves — lockers slamming, groups laughing, voices rising — but everything felt far away. I kept my hood up. I hadn’t worn makeup in days. I didn’t want to see what I looked like anyway.

A guy looked at me as we passed. Smiled a little.

Riley saw it.

He leaned down, pressed his mouth to my ear and whispered, “I’ll break his fucking teeth.”

Then he kissed my cheek like it was sweet. Like he loved me. His hand on my back slid lower, just enough to make my stomach tighten.

In class, he sat too close. His hand rested between my legs under the table, his thumb tracing patterns like a secret no one else could see. Every time I shifted, he looked smug — like I was proving something for him.

Lunch felt like sitting in a glass box.

I barely ate. Riley’s hand stayed on my thigh. He didn’t say much, but the way he watched everyone else made my skin itch. Like he was waiting for someone to give him a reason.