The bass in Aaliyah's car rattled my bones, vibrating through me like the pulse of a heartbeat. She always cranks up her music to a level where you can practically feel it in your ears. Right now, she was jamming to her favorite track by Megan Thee Stallion: "Freak Nasty." We were driving up to the mountains to snap photos for our spring exhibit at Uni.

"I think we should split up when we get there," I shouted over the music.

"What?" Aaliyah leaned closer, eyes wide with disbelief.

I turned down the volume, letting the car's soft hum and the faint whisper of the wind fill the space. "I said, I think we should split up."

"Girl, are you sure about that?"

"As long as we keep our locations on and don't stray too far, we should be fine—"

My phone chimed with a new text, cutting me off. Aaliyah caught the long, stressed-out sigh that escaped me as I glanced at the screen. Another chime came through.

"Don't tell me that's Monica's bitch ass blowing up your phone?"

Silence was my only answer.

"What does the hoe want?"

The first gray bubble read: Can we talk? The second: I'm free later tonight if you are... She was the first to break our no-contact rule, just as I'd known she would. Part of me missed her, even though I'd sworn this time would be different. This wasn't our first breakup, but it was the one that finally made me say enough was enough. Loneliness dug into my chest, its claws gripping tightly. It whispered sweet nothings, tempting me to crawl back to her if she could just say all the right things.

"Uh... She wants to talk."

"About?"

"Didn't say."

But knowing Monica, she'd use that honey-eyed voice to reel me back into her hell. Her love was a bitter pill disguised as sweetness, an awful excuse for selfishness, a greedy consumption of everything I had to offer—emotionally and mentally.

"You gonna talk to her?"

My silence answered Aaliyah's question. She slapped her hands on the steering wheel, shaking her head. Her box braids danced with the movement. "No, ma'am! Terrible idea. Very terrible," she said, her distaste palpable. "When an ex says that, they wanna fuck, or they wanna fuck fuck."

"Is there a difference?"

"Baby girl, yes!" Aaliyah shot me a side glance before focusing back on the road. "If she's tryna fuck, it means she's filling a void, and if she's tryna fuck fuck, she wants to trap your ass into coming back to her. If she can keep you addicted, she knows how foolish you'll be to return. And we are not doing that shit again, not with Monica or anyone else."

"She doesn't wanna fuck."

"She's trying to see you later tonight?"

Silence.

"Hell naw. I won't allow it."

Aaliyah only tolerated my ex-girlfriend because she knew how much Monica had meant to me. After our last breakup, though, she was ready to kick Monica's ass if it meant protecting me.

"But—"

"After what she did to you? You seriously thinking about talking to her again?"

"I didn't say I would talk to her," I muttered.

I was the type of person who believed in giving second chances. I saw the flickering good buried under the dark, toxic mass that overshadowed their better qualities.

Aaliyah always said, This is why you keep getting hurt by ain't shit ass bitches.

I fix whatever is broken about them, only to watch them love someone else better than they ever loved me.

She sighed. "Ain't nobody seen you at your worst more than I have, and I'd be damned if I let Monica hurt you again. You deserve so much more than these low-quality ass girls you've been giving your heart away to, J."

My soul craved affection. The bad habit I had was choosing girls who couldn't fulfill that craving. Even when they could, it was temporary and cheap.

Once out of the car, I stretched my legs, shaking off the lingering heaviness in my chest. Aaliyah grabbed her equipment from the trunk while I retrieved mine from the backseat. The sky was clearing after a rain shower, the air smelling earthy and fresh. A chill lingered, even for spring, but luckily, I was bundled in my oversized Tennessee Whiskey hoodie. Before splitting up, we ensured our locations were active.

As I walked along the dirt path, the gravel crunched beneath my Vans, each step reminding me I should have worn hiking shoes like Aaliyah. The mountains stood lush and breathtaking around me, alive as if Mother Nature was expanding her lungs to fill the air. I raised my camera, snapping pictures. In the distance, trees lined a glimmering lake, and I knelt to capture the evening sky reflecting in the water.

Suddenly, the feeling of being watched prickled at the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. My heart raced as I lowered my camera, trying to shake off the paranoia.

Hey, you're just being paranoid.

But then a flock of blackbirds erupted from the trees, their chaotic cries slicing through the stillness. I stiffened, every instinct on high alert. Just as I was about to turn around, a gut feeling told me to stay still.

The air grew heavy. A low rumble echoed around me, sending chills down my spine.

I gripped my camera tightly, closed my eyes, and whispered a prayer like that would save my ass.

Something loomed before me, its hot breath tickling my face. I swallowed hard, a deep growl vibrating beside my ear.

Don't open your eyes. Don't open your fucking eyes.

Standing still felt like my best option. It would attack me if it wanted to play with its meal first.

Fuck, I don't want to die. I cracked one eye open, then the other. A massive black wolf stood at eye level, its dark gaze piercing into me. Did wolves even get this big? Where the hell had it come from?

The wolf let out another low growl, its canines bared. Instinctively, I threw my arms up to shield my face, waiting for the inevitable bite that would tear me apart. But nothing happened. A distant howl echoed through the air. I lowered my arms cautiously. The wolf stepped back, its dark eyes studying me before it bolted into the forest.

My camera slipped from my grip and crashed to the ground, the lens cracking on impact. In that moment, my legs gave way beneath me. Tears streamed down my cheeks as my body convulsed, making it hard to catch my breath. My heart hammered in my chest, and I struggled to calm myself, but it was useless.