nothing left to loose

Chapter 1: Nothing Left to Lose

The bell rang like a warning shot.

Orielle Hayes kept her head down and moved along the edge of the hallway, close to the lockers where the light flickered and nobody looked. Nine weeks left at Crestwood High. Nine weeks until she could walk out of this place and stop pretending the name _Hayes_ meant anything.

She didn’t talk unless she had to. Talking drew attention. Attention meant questions. Questions meant remembering what it felt like to be told, in a house with marble floors and a view of the city, that she was disappointing. That she was ungrateful. That no matter how perfect she looked on paper, she’d never be enough.

“Orielle! Wait up!”

She nearly didn’t stop. Then Mira’s hand caught her sleeve, warm and steady. Mira Chen was the only person who didn’t flinch from Orielle’s quiet.

“You’re skipping the senior meeting again,” Mira said, falling into step. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright. “And you missed my text. Marcus took me to dinner at that place downtown. The one with the rooftop.”

Orielle nodded, saying nothing. Mira’s boyfriend Marcus was rich. Old money, new car, family that owned half the marina. He was kind to Mira, though. That was why Orielle didn’t mind him.

“I know you don’t care about rooftop dinners,” Mira added quickly, like she was apologizing. “But I wanted to tell you. You’re my person, Ore. Even if you never come to one.”

Orielle’s throat tightened. Person. Nobody had called her that in years without it coming with conditions.

Her family had money too. More than Mira’s boyfriend, honestly. Hayes Holdings, luxury real estate, charity galas where her mother smiled for cameras and her father’s voice was low and sharp behind closed doors.

_You’re embarrassing us, Orielle._

_Smile more. Talk less. Do better._

_This is for your own good._

Words. No bruises. But they’d left her flinching at loud rooms and checking exits before she sat down.

Her locker was at the end of the hall, under the broken light. She liked it there. Dark. Quiet. Safe from the kind of eyes that expected her to act like a Hayes.

She spun the dial. 14-22-7. Click.

Inside: textbooks, a notebook, and her worn copy of _Crime and Punishment_. No photos. No letters. Nothing that could explain why the girl from the richest family in the district ate lunch alone and never posted on Instagram.

“Still reading that?” Mira leaned against the locker next to hers. “Ore, you know happy books exist, right?”

Orielle pulled out her notebook. “Happy isn’t real.”

Mira’s expression softened. She didn’t push. She never pushed. “Okay. But if you ever want to talk about why, I’m here. Even if it’s about your parents again.”

Orielle didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Saying it out loud made it real. Made it sound like she wasn’t just spoiled and dramatic. Like the way her father dismantled her opinions over dinner wasn’t ‘discipline.’ Like the way her mother told her she’d be unlovable if she didn’t fix her attitude wasn’t care.

English was easier. Ms. Calloway talked about “voice and vulnerability” in personal narratives, and Orielle stared at her notebook like it might bite. She wasn’t writing about herself. Not ever.

At lunch, they sat at their table by the window. Mira unwrapped her sandwich and chattered about Marcus’s surprise for their month anniversary.

“Sorry, I know it sounds braggy,” Mira said, catching herself. “I just… I’m happy, Ore. And I want you to have that too. Not the money stuff. The safe part.”

Orielle looked down. “I don’t want people to be safe with me. I’ll mess it up.”

“You haven’t messed anything up,” Mira said quietly.

Orielle didn’t believe that. People like her parents didn’t spend years telling you were broken without you starting to believe it.

The afternoon dragged. When the final bell rang, Orielle was first out the door.

She found Kade Morrow leaning against her car in the parking lot. Again.

“You follow me?” she asked, quiet but direct.

“No,” Kade said. “I just noticed you always park here. It’s quiet.”

Orielle unlocked the car but didn’t get in yet.

“You have money too, right?” she asked suddenly. She didn’t know why she said it. Maybe because she was tired of people assuming her life was easy.

Kade raised an eyebrow. “Not like you. My mom works nights. We’re fine.”

Orielle nodded. That made it easier.

“I’m not like Mira,” she said before she could stop herself. “I don’t have a Marcus. I don’t have dinners and rooftops. I have a house that’s quiet for the wrong reasons.”

Kade didn’t look surprised. He just nodded. “Yeah. I figured.”

“You figured what?”

“That you don’t trust people because the people who were supposed to keep you safe used words to make you small.”

Orielle’s breath caught. She hadn’t told him anything.

“How—”

“I know what that sounds like,” Kade said simply. “I’ve heard it too.”

He didn’t explain. He didn’t push. He just stood there, giving her space to decide if she’d run.

Orielle got into her car.

“Don’t follow me home,” she said.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Kade replied.

She drove off, the quiet of her aunt’s apartment waiting for her. For the first time, the quiet didn’t feel like punishment. It felt like a choice.

She didn’t believe in love. Not the way Mira talked about it with Marcus. Not the way her parents pretended it looked.

But maybe she believed in safety. In people who didn’t use words as weapons.

And maybe that was enough to start.

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