Girls Love Beyoncé

90

BEYONCÉ KNOWLES

I tossed and turned, unable to get a lick of sleep.

And when I did, my dreams were nightmares—horrifying nightmares about Onika not making it home, about people following her.

It was the worst of the worst, and I couldn't handle it anymore.

I sat up in a cold sweat, my heart hammering as I clutched my stomach. My eyes teared up, but I tried to shake the dream off, but it wouldn't leave me. I frowned and checked the time.

One in the morning. I looked outside. Mom's car was gone. She'd probably stayed at the hospital, and because it was still break, Solange was at a friend's sleepover.

I wished they were here. I felt so uneasy, wishing I could crawl into Mom's bed and be held like a baby. Maybe even Solange's jokes would've helped.

I sighed and went downstairs for some cold water, anything to help me relax. The house was dim, moonlight spilling through the blinds. I tried to shake off the uneasiness, but it was impossible.

I grabbed a glass from the cabinet and turned on the faucet, letting the water splash into the cup before turning it off. I took a long sip, trying to calm myself, trying to breathe—

when a loud bang made me jump, the glass slipping from my hands and shattering at my feet.

The banging didn't stop. It only grew louder, mixed with my name being shouted from outside.

I stared down at the broken glass for a second too long, my mind slow, my chest tight.

"Beyoncé! Open up!"

The sound snapped me back into myself. I stepped carefully over the shards, heart racing as I moved toward the door.

The voices grew clearer, but I still couldn't make out who it was. My hand reached for the knob before my brain caught up. I opened the door without thinking—

and the moment I saw her, I tried to slam it shut.

She forced her way inside anyway.

"Are you deadass— I don't even have time to get on your ass. Go pack a bag or something and let's go," Onika demanded, Waka right behind her as they pushed into the house.

I stared at them in disbelief.

My eyes dragged over them without meaning to. Their clothes. Their faces. The way they both looked like they had just run from something.

I noticed the differences, the tension in their bodies, the wrongness of it all—

but I was too angry to care.

She was unbelievable.

I hadn't heard from her for hours, and the first thing she did when she finally showed up was bark orders at me? Like I was nothing.

Like I hadn't been worried sick. Like I wasn't carrying her child.

Did she even care about my well-being at all?

She promised me more. Promised me us. Promised me she would do better.

And here she was again, standing in my house like nothing mattered.

Something ugly rose up in my chest before I could stop it.

I pushed her.

Her eyes widened, but I didn't stop. I didn't look at the red staining her shirt. I didn't look at the fear on Waka's face as he stood frozen by the door.