Haunt || Matty Healy

Six.

        

Seven grabs my shoulder, hauling me into a supply closet. I frown at his choice of seclusion, and tug my arm away from him. "Matty?" He asks, fumbling against the wall feeling for a light switch.

I roll my eyes and tug at the long metallic string between us. The lights snap on with a low, irritating hum starting up. It's still pretty dim, but I can make out the stack of cleaning supplies to the left of us, a sink to the right, and just how tightly we're packed in here, clearly standing in room not made for more than one person. It smells of lemon cleaning detergent but it looks disgusting. I shiver and rub my shoulders. "Yes..." I hesitate when I answer. Of course I sound utterly ridiculous.

Matty Healy, of some indie band based off of some small town in England wants to potentially murder my friends and I.

"Matty Healy, of some indie band based off of some small town in England wants to potentially murder us?" Seven repeats my thoughts in disbelief. He runs his hands through his hair, tugging the strands as he groans in frustration.

I bite my lip, "It's hard to explain," I say softly, glancing at the ground. "But I wouldn't make this up - I couldn't if I tried," I plead for him to believe me. I know he's dubious but what much does he honestly have to go on. "He's tried to kill me about a dozen times," I insist, "In the bathroom the first night I saw him, at work, at his gig, on the subway, on the walk home, in my room, in the car," I list off.

"So you're essentially saying this is your fault." Seven's voice is weak, but accusing. It stabs me in my gut because I can't exactly retaliate or deny this. He's right, but he's wrong too - I didn't ask for any of this, but if he weren't my friend, he wouldn't be in this situation.

"I..."

"Jesus Christ - Nila what the fuck have you done?" He grabs onto my shoulder, hunching over to peer at my face. I flinch back but his hold is iron tight, the smallest of struggles causes his fingers to clamp down harder.

"I didn't do anything," I cry, but it's hoarse and I don't think he hears me. My stomach sinks and the air around me grows warmer. He's fuming.

"Nixon thinks I'm pulling a prank - a fucking dangerous one at that - all of this shit is on my head because perfect blind Nila can't possibly do ­shit." He snaps. He backs me into a wall. "And now we're all part of this...this game - that was the riddle, wasn't it? About the fucking cat? Cat and Mouse? And we're all mice? Because you taunted a fucking cat?"

"I didn't!" I insist, his analogy giving me a headache. "All I did was show up to a fucking set I didn't even want to go to!"

"Then why is he so fixated on you? What the fuck did you do? What is he? Some fucking...wizard? Did you suck his warlock dick and now we're all in some hoodoo-voodoo type shit?"

I wince and shove him off but its honestly to no avail. Seven's always had a temper but it's always been in check. He was always careful to think through his words and meditate on what he's feeling, defusing the wrath before it truly begins, but in this confined space, with me  - someone he's clearly had to hold a lot back from - he's not even attempting to control himself. "Fuck off," I grit, "I didn't do shit - get off of me!"

His eyebrow furrows and he stills, I think for a moment he's caught up with himself, but instead he says, "Of course," he scowls at me again, "You didn't do anything...you're pure - you're a virgin -"

"What?" I whispered shock - it wasn't a lie, but like hell that had to do with anything - right? I had thought about Matty wanting me as some type of virgin sacrifice for a while, but when I had let that slip that night on the subway, he had been surprised.  "No," I shove Seven, "Why are you being like this; this isn't you - Seven, it's me, it's Nila, I've known you since we were babies!"