Our Love Is a War

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!” I repeated, over and over again. I had the leather jack I got Oswell from way back when in my hands, the leather radiating his sent mixed my cigarettes. I ran on the pavement, my shoes slapping hard. Wind blew in my face, making me colder then I already was. I should have never fucking stole that shit. I told Ronnie to leave Oswell out of this. Did he? No. Ronnie that stupid cunt. I cursed him, running to the building I went to yesterday. I stopped right in front of it, catching my breath. I clutched Oswell’s jacket, the memory playing like a film in a movie theatre.

We were cuddled up on our couch, back when I didn’t need a rush of any drug every few seconds. It was his last day of junior year, signaling that he was going to be a senior. And for me? I was a dealer. Drug dealer. I congratulated hi for getting good marks on his final exams, so I bought him a leather jacket so he could keep warm while I’m not around. Looking back, I was never there for him.

I went inside, screaming Ronnie’s name in anger. I heard a few laughs come from the back room. Mad, I raced back there, still holding on to Oswell’s jacket. Ronnie and his goons came into sight.

As of now, the devil has nothing on me. “Where the fuck is he!” I demanded, the guys still laughing. I was breathing hard, anger welling up inside of me. Can you blame me?

“Dead.” Ronnie laughed.

My heart dropped, all emotions left me.

Tears welled up in my eyes.

That one word rang over and over and over in my head, mocking me. All my thoughts came crashing down on me.

He’s dead.
The only one who will ever love you for who you are is gone.
This is all your fault.
Oswell’s life in exchange for yours.
He was innocent.
You’re a monster.

“Where is he?” I asked again, keeping my calm composure. They laughed.

“Where is the money?” Ronnie asked, his professional voice coming out. I reached into my back pocket, one single tear giving me away. Fuck. I pulled out the wad of cash and threw it at him. “Is this all of it.?” he asked, sweeping it underneath him.

“Every penny.” I told him, taking in a shaking breath. “Where is my Oswell?” Ronnie pointed to a staircase. I dashed down there, their voices leaving my mind. I quickly glanced around the room, my eyes landing on…oh god.

Oswell was battered and bruise, blood dripped from his head and his legs were bent in an awkward angle. His perfect lips looked chewed on, blood covered them in a thick coat. I choked.

“Oswell!” I cried out, panicking. I ran over, sliding on the cold basement floor to his lifeless corpse. I took his head in my hands, Oswell’s hazel blue orbs were now ice. The tone of his face was gone, and his breaths were short. Sobs racked my chest before I let them out. “Hang in there Ozzy.” I told him, lifting him up gently, afraid I might break him even more. “Hang on. Don’t worry.” I told him, tears streaming down my face. I walked back up to ground level, the steps creaking, screaming under the weight. I felt a low rise, then a low fall from Ozzy’s broad chest, giving me hope that he might make it through this. I walked in front of the park, taking out my cell phone and dialing 911. I was frantic, so frantic I head to repeat the address of the park five times because of my hysteria. I heard sirens in a distance, praying to a God that Oswell makes it though all of this.

I never realize how good he is for me, what I really had until it was too late.

Hopefully it isn’t.