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Raya

I woke up this morning with five more enemies than I had yesterday.

It’s barely after sunrise when my rage yanks me out of a dreamless sleep like a hand fisting my hair and pulling me upright. But my mind’s not racing. My heart’s not hammering. I’m pretty calm, actually. Crystal clear. There’s just one thought in my head, heavy and thick, consuming me like a black hole.

The Taylors can die. All of them.

I lay flat on my back, staring at my ceiling fan, watching it spin, slow and methodical. Five blades. Round and round.

My molars press together, causing a dull ache to radiate through my teeth. I force my coiled fingers to relax against the sheets, but they curl back into a fist the second I stop paying attention. My entire body is wired like my anger is sitting under my skin, crawling, slithering, whispering.

Control it. Shape it. Mold it into something useful.

Deep breaths.

Okay. Ace can live.

He pissed me off, but he’s still my man. Boyfriends piss you off sometimes, that’s a given. He’s mine, and that matters more than temporary emotions. This is fleeting.

It’s his fucking family who can die.

Ace is like…a dolphin in a pod of orcas. I know that’s not scientifically possible, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m not rational right now. Fuck rational.

And, okay, Carlton is exempt, too. That corny bastard is just along for the ride. Bless his clueless, preppy heart. He’s Nemo swimming around in that bitch. Vanessa…to be fair, she didn’t really do anything either. Plus, she’s a dentist, and we need black medical professionals.

I’ll put her on probation.

Now, Kamryn? That raggedy, rabid, lowdown, toxic cunt?

I already knew what she was, and yesterday confirmed it. The best part? She didn’t remember me. It didn’t even register. Not that I was expecting her to—I was nobody back then, just another person for her to be a mean girl to—but that only proves what a rancid bitch she is to people on GP. And Ace had the nerve to say they’re basically twins? Fuck, no. He’s nothing like that diseased twat.

But the true villains are his fucking parents.

My body burns hot at the memory, a fever spreading under my skin. My fingers dig into the sheets again, twisting the fabric.

I practically feel my ire shift. The spotlight of my anger swivels, shining directly on their smug faces.

How fucking dare they sit there emotionless while their son announced the biggest accomplishment of his career?

Ace’s face made my heart sink. He tried to hide the disappointment, but it was too late. I saw it. Then I saw red. They had one job, one fucking job , and they failed.

What kind of parents…what kind of mother acts like that? My breath hitches, a sharp, painful thing in my chest.

I wanted to punch that bitch in her uterus. I want her bougie ass to feel what she made him feel. Entitled, wine-guzzling cunt. I wanted to tell her, bitch, you ain’t Whitley Gilbert. Sit your just-barely-made-it-out-of-middle-class-ass all the way down, hoe.

And the daddy…he’s handsome as hell, but also a sad fucking waste of a Y chromosome. He’s gonna feel it, too. It’s only a matter of time.

I see why Kamryn’s boyfriend stays away. Rico. That’s the only man in this family I actually respect. I wanna meet him. Shake his hand. Buy him a shot of Henny. Congratulate him on seeing through the Taylor facade to spot the rottenness at the core.

I pick up my phone and scroll. I have to go way back on the daddy’s Facebook page—of course their old asses still use Facebook—to find their wedding picture. 1990. A throwback anniversary post. It’s black and white, grainy, and overexposed.

I stare at it.

They’re a beautiful couple on the outside, but I’m not fooled by that. I invented that. There’s ugliness in both of them.

Game recognize game.

I swipe over to Kamryn’s Insta. It makes me smile at the memory of the first time I went through her pictures. It’s where I first found Ace.

She has a few new posts, but it doesn’t matter how she poses or what angle she holds her face at. She’s still a waste of skin. And I’m mad she’s cute. She’s depriving me of something else to hate.

Then—wait.

A comment on the most recent pic catches my eye.

Period, sis. Tell the fam I said hey and I love them.

Fam?

Which fam?

My new fam?

I click on the profile.

Arnelle’sWorld.

Hmm. She’s pretty. Who the fuck is she, though?

I scroll faster.

Something in my stomach twists, a warning I don’t understand yet.

Then I see it.

A picture.

Her. In a hospital bed.

Ace. Sitting beside her. Staring down at her lovingly.

She’s holding a blanket.

Wait…

Oh.

It’s a fucking baby.

The caption is a punch in the stomach. It literally knocks the wind out of me.

I carried you for five months. We held you for 30 minutes before we let you go. Elijah Ace Taylor. We love you forever and always.

Tears well up in my eyes as the realization hits me.

Then the anger comes.

He didn’t tell me.

I could have comforted him.

I would have comforted him.

If he’d just…trusted me.

He kept this from me.

But, why?

He trusts me with his body. His time. His fucking sustenance.

But not this?

My fingers tighten around my phone.

I breathe. Slow. Deep. Controlled.

Then I exhale.

Okay.

Now I’m really pissed.

They don’t know who they’re fucking with.

Kamryn especially.

I refuse to beef with an ex who lost a baby. I mean, I’m not a monster. I’ve been through that before. I handled it just fine, but I’m sure it’s excruciating to lose a child you actually wanted .

Kamryn? She should know better. I’m the woman in Ace’s life. She shouldn’t be entertaining old hoes.

Whatever, though.

She gon’ learn.

I perfected revenge long before I perfected my winged eyeliner.

Ask Naima Bates.

Senior year, she spread a rumor about me stealing from the debate team fundraiser. I mean, I did, but it wasn’t a lot, and she didn’t have to snitch. I found out she was fucking our biology teacher. Guess who sent an anonymous email to her parents? And the school board?

Terrica Henry also learned a painful lesson. I’d only been working at the Amazon warehouse for a few months when she pulled some sneaky shit, telling the cutest worker there, who everybody knew I was talking to, that I was a weirdo. I don’t even remember his name, because that’s not important. What’s important is that her car was stolen. And totaled. And nobody was ever caught. And she had no way to get to work, so she got fired. She had kids at home, too. Such a shame.

And then there’s Ferris.

The Taylors?

They’re next.

And it won’t be quick. Quick is merciful.

This will be slow.

They’re gonna feel me in every fiber of their spoiled, bougie, backstabbing bones.

And Ace?

He’ll understand. Eventually.