The Badboy Delirium

MAYA POV "I’m breaking up with you." The words rang loud and unfamiliar in my head, but in my chest, they were furious. They jumped everywhere, frantic and jagged, causing dents and cracks in my ribs that I'm certain I'll never heal from. A cheerful, nervous giggle escaped my lips as I looked at Caleb. My brain reached for the only logical explanation: this had to be one of his sick jokes. Maybe he was bored, or maybe he wanted to see me beg just so he could laugh and pull me back in. He’s literally the worst at pulling pranks. "Yeah, right," I respond, the smile on my face feeling like a mask; it feels heavy to wear, but I have too. I lean in to kiss him goodbye, the same way I had done a thousand times before. I expected the familiar scent of his expensive cologne and the soft pressure of his lips. Instead, he flinches away. His face was cold, a stone mask I didn't recognise. He stared straight ahead at the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. Heck, he’d never even been this focused on the road while driving. My heart hammered against my teeth. What the f**k is going on? "I’m serious, Maya. It’s over," he said. There was no tremor in his voice. No regret. It was like he was reading a weather report. He didn't bother to spare me a glance, and another laugh—higher, more desperate — escaped my lips. My skin felt too tight for my body. "Okay! I’ll go with it! Ohhh no, Caleb, why?" I whined dramatically, my voice dripping with fake sorrow. I was still waiting for the punchline. I was still waiting for him to reach over, ruffle my hair, and tell me I was an i***t for believing him. He didn't. He just sighed, a long, weary sound like I was a chore he was finally finished with, and unlocked the car. The clack of the locks sounded like a gunshot in the small space. It startled me into this cruel reality. "Goodnight," he said. I froze in the passenger seat. The "Goodnight" wasn't a promise of tomorrow. It was a finality. The air in the car suddenly felt thin, like I was suffocating in the silence. Fine. If he wanted to play this game, I’d play. I shoved the door open and stepped out onto the curb, my heels clicking sharply against the pavement. I grabbed the handle and slammed the door as hard as I could, hoping the vibration rattled his teeth. "You asshole! We’ll talk tomorrow!" I shouted at the glass. He didn't wait. He didn't even look in the rearview mirror. He shifted into gear and drove away, his wheels skidding against the asphalt with a screech that tore through the quiet night. I stood there, clutching my purse, watching his taillights fade into two red pinpricks before they vanished entirely. I marched to the white porch of my parents' home, but my phone kept buzzing in my hand, and the notifications were coming in floods. Why though? Could it be? No, there’s no way! How did this news spread so fast? It hasn't even been an hour since he dumped me! But these vultures are everywhere, circling the carcass of my social life. My phone vibrated against my thigh like a live wire, each buzz feeling like a physical sting. I stuffed the device deep into my bag, wanting to choke the life out of it. I fumbled with my house keys, my hands shaking so hard they clattered against the lock. Finally, I pushed inside, the familiar smell of home: vanilla candles and laundry detergent, feeling like a mockery of the chaos in my head. I needed to get upstairs. The last thing I needed right now was my mom asking me what was wrong; one look from her and I’d turn into a five-year-old who had just been pinched. "Hey, sweetheart! You’re home early," Mom shouted from the bottom of the stairs. I froze on the third step, my heart hammering against my ribs. I closed my eyes and took a steady, jagged breath. If I speak, my voice just might c***k and spill the truth all over the floor. I forced a mask of normalcy onto my face, the kind I’d practiced in front of the mirror a thousand times. "Yeah, it was a short date with Caleb today," I said, pitching my voice to sound cheerful, it felt like sandpaper in my throat. I didn't wait for her to respond or ask for details about the "short date." I bolted up the rest of the stairs, my feet heavy, and practically dove into my room. I slammed the door and leaned against it, the click of the lock finally giving me a second to breathe. The room was exactly how I’d left it: my sweet fragrance lingering in the air, the soft baby pink neon light casting a glow that usually made me feel safe. Now, the pink light just made everything look like a crime scene. I threw my handbag onto the bed and kicked off my heels. They hit the hardwood floor with a dull thud. My heart was racing out of my chest, a wild animal trapped in a cage. I wanted to scream until my lungs burned. I wanted to scream until tears flooded the room and washed away the last hour of my life. Most of all, I wanted to call Caleb and ask his dumb self what the f**k this s**t was. But I didn't. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a missed call. Instead, I went through the motions of a girl who still had her life together. I slipped into my pajamas, the silk cool against my skin, and sat on the edge of the bed. My phone sat in my bag, glowing through the fabric. I pulled it out, my thumb hovering over the screen like it was a detonator. I scrolled through the comments on the everythingEast page. Each one was a fresh bruise. "I always knew she was evil," One girl from my chem class wrote. Since when was I evil? I’d helped her with her lab reports three weeks ago. "She bossed him around all the time, God bless Caleb’s soul," another read. My stomach turned. Caleb was the one who decided every movie, every restaurant, every weekend plan. "Caleb broke up with her cause she’s too much. I mean, have you seen the way she eats grapes?" What the f**k? I eat grapes like a normal person. The sheer absurdity of it made a hysterical laugh bubble up in my chest, but it died before it reached my lips. It didn't matter if it was true. It didn't matter if it made sense. They didn't want the truth; they wanted a villain, and since Caleb is the golden boy, it leaves no chance to explain myself. I throw my phone onto the floor. It skittered across the rug and hit the baseboard. I collapsed back onto my pillows, staring up at the ceiling as the pink neon light blurred. My best friend Tiffany hasn’t texted me back yet; she must have gone to bed early. My notifications were a war zone, and I’m not in the mood to receive further damage. Gosh My life just took the wrong turn.