Reece's Haven

39: Reece

"What's your name?" she asks.

Again, I do not reply to her. I do not even react. If I ignore her, maybe she will get bored and go away. It's already bad enough that I am bullied at school; the last thing I want is to be bullied at my own home.

"Ok... I'm Dowothy and I'm five years old," she introduces herself, lifting all five chubby fingers on her left hand. "How old are you?"

Silence...

"Do you know how to talk? Are you shy?"

Silence...

The girl furrows her eyebrows, as if she were in a deep thought, before her eyes brighten and her smile returns, catching me off guard. There's something about her smile; how welcoming and warm it is. No one has graced me with such a smile.

No... It's a trap!

Beware of this two-pigtailed girl.

She may seem harmless, but her appearance is a trap.

A trap!

"Do you want a cookie?" she asks more confidently, as if she knows that I will reply to her.

And if that's the case, she is right because a short moment later, my hunger takes over my instincts and I find myself nodding my head.

Her smile widens like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.

Oh no, what has my hunger put me into?

"Well I got lots!" she squeals, showing me her toothy grin.

My stomach likes the sound of that, making its presence known by growling.

"I'll give you some, but you have to tell me your name first."

A condition. She is smarter than she seems.

Pursing my lips, I look down.

"Well?" she says.

Should I answer her? I don't know when mummy will let me back in, but I do know that it's not anytime soon.

So, I reply for the sake of satiating my hunger.

"Reece," I say lowly.

Little do I know that this girl will become my everything instead of my ruin.

***

January 1998

The familiar smell of alcohol and sweat graces my nostrils the moment I step into Nolan's place. I arrive late, around 10pm. I walk past the carousing teenagers, who are having the time of their lives by drinking, dancing, singing, stripping, fucking. The list goes on.

I'm not going to lie, I used to be like them; drinking away through the night and waking up next to a naked girl in the morning. I don't usually remember my flings; I am always too drunk and leave without sparing a glance at my partner's face. There have been many occasions where I'd be walking down a corridor at college, and a random girl would approach me confidently and remind me of our fling. My oblivion would send them running away with tears.

I was never proud of myself for doing this.

But when it helped me forget and feel numb, how could I not do it?

As I walk through the crowd, hundreds of different kinds of liquor bottles sitting on numerous tables catch my eye. Although I am tempted to escape reality tonight, I force myself to look away and carry on walking ahead.