8 | Frozen Peas
My ears hurt from the amount of noise being emitted from around me. Screaming, I can hear someone screaming to save them. Could I save them? My foot slips across the carpeted ground as I reach out for guidance. The belt buckle encasing my torso to the car tugs me back.
I can't move. I can't save them.
There's a headlight flickering in front of me – bring beams of light piercing into my eyes. The cracked globe desperately fights to create a spark of energy, though, I wish it would break.
My eyes hungrily scan the scene for answers. I wish I could stop looking, but I can't seem to bring myself to stop. The fragments of the crash surrounding us is like a spinning tornado threatening to take over.
I glance beside me to see his unmoving body. I flinch away, terrified of my thoughts. A new glimpse of someone outside strikes a deep pool of fear swelling in my belly.
The same thought rolls through my mind . . . If only I could move, if only I could save them.
He lays on the damp ground beside the car with a woman hovering above his body. She presses a number of compressed pumps while yelling orders to her partner. There's a scramble of movement which gives me hope. Maybe they can save us, or is our fate doomed like the flickering lightbulb?
My heart is racing like a jackhammer cracking through thick cement. My back is slick with sweat which causes the fabric of my thin nightshirt to cling to my back.
"Well, fuck." I gasp.
Pressing my hand against my chest, I take a deep breath to slow my pulsing heartbeat. You'd think after the millionth time it would be easier, but it isn't, just gets worse.
I roll over and see the glowing clock resting on top of the bedside table. The green light illuminates the small space on the bed which shows the sheets massing in a tangled heap around my feet. I flick the sheets away and climb off the mattress.
"At least I still have time for a nightcap." I thankfully grin.
I discard my pajamas on the floor and search for a pair of jeans, shirt, and a hoodie. The fresh smell of laundry detergent lingers around me before I reach for a cheap store brand sent to douse myself in. I slip into a pair of boots and re-adjust my oversized hoodie.
With my wallet and key in hand, I walk out of the room and head for the set of stairs.
My boots thud against the wooden steps as I emerge into the dark lobby. For once the lights are off and Scarlett is nowhere to be seen. It's an odd sight considering she's short a metal chain.
I push the door open and hit the street with a sense of urgency coursing through my limbs. The crisp cold air swirls around my ankles, sending a shiver rolling through my body. I tug my hoodie closer to my body as I weave between buildings.
Pressed between two other buildings, the glow of orange light splatters onto the cold hard pavement. The light sound of chatter frequenting from the joint beings a smile to my lips.
I take a seat on the light wooden barstool and slump against the freshly cleaned bench. My eye catches the barman as he takes a step towards me.
"I didn't think ye'd be back," the man slurs.
"Why?" I chuckle.
The man throws his chequered blue tea towel over his shoulder, then reaches under the bar for a fresh glass.
"Most men don't back after a hard night like yours," he replies.
"Perhaps they don't have problems?" I ponder.
"True, but who doesn't have problems in this square of town?" He sighs. "Are you havin' the same?"
"No." I shake my head. "Just a pint of beer will suffice – anything will do."
"Okay."
I chuck the money on the bar and wait for the server to return with my order. He places a frothing pint of beer on the mat, then collects the mixture of coins and cash situated beside the mat.
A small grin tugs onto his lips when he notices the extra money within the cost of the beer. It's not much, but it seems right to give something for his kind service for the other night. This town isn't a place for thriving businesses.
I polish off the beer within a short span before bidding my goodbye. With some alcohol running through my veins and fresh air in my lungs, I should be able to catch some undisturbed sleep.
"Do you know of a motel nearby?" he questions, a trail of smoke slithering from his parted lips.
I spin around and notice an older man pressed against the face of the building. He's dressed in a dark green jacket, a black hoodie and tattered pair of faded blue jeans which gives the idea he's most likely between locations.
"Do you need a place to stay?" I hesitantly ask.
"No." The man takes another hit from his cigarette, then tosses the burning ember onto the pathway. "My whore of a daughter owes me money."
I swallow the air lingering around me. This piece of scum, this pathetic excuse of a man his her father.
His crooked toothy grin comes into view as he steps under a streetlight. It's then that I notice his slender body hidden beneath the flimsy fabric hanging from his tall frame.
I could take him. One hit to the jaw and it would be over. Maybe he'd get the sign and leave town? Scarlett wouldn't have to worry then.
"Do you know of the motel or not?"
My arm swings through and clips the side of the man's jaw. His body recoils and hits the bricked building.
"You fucking idiot." The man springs towards me and like a parasite, he tackles me to the ground.
Fist after fist, his knuckles slam against my tender skin. His hands circle around the fabric of my jacket as he shoves my head into the ground. Black dots filter across my vision but I suck in a deep breath and attempt to stay alert.
"You tell her I'm coming. She owes me fucking money and I want it." The man throws a single punch to solidify the message written across my skin. The only message clear to me is that I should leave the fighting to Ricky.
He rubs his bloodstained hand against his pants before turning towards the bar door. As soon as it slams shut, I sigh with relief.
Rolling onto my side, I lay on the cool pavement. It feels amazing against my burning cheek. I can't stay here all night, though.
Staggering to my feet, I begin the long hall back.
When I arrive, the door is locked.
"Shit," I cuss.
My fist beats against the door as I call out for Scarlett. It only takes a moment for the light to flicker on and Scarlett's inquisitive face to peek out from behind the doorframe. Her pea green eyes meet mine, which causes her to spring into action.
She quickly unlocks the door and reaches for my hoodie. Just like her father had done, her fingers wrap around the material and she tugs me inside. The door slams behind me and she relocks it.
"What the hell happened to you?" she yells.
"I ran into your father, or more like my face did," I correct.
"You didn't have to do that," she mutters. "I can take care of myself."
The thought of his hands on her. No. I can't think about it.
"He called you a whore!" Anger swells within the pit of my stomach. "He can't say things like that and get away with it."
"Come on, Peirce, let's get you cleaned up." She takes my hand and tugs me in a new direction.
Scarlett turns a light on which makes me squint as I re-adjust to the bright light. It's only then that I notice I'm standing in the middle of an industrial kitchen.
I watch as she reaches above the wooden bench and grabs a first-aid kit from the cupboard. I lean against the counter and watch as she digs through the kit. Eventually, she turns towards me with a Band-Aid and cream in hand.
She patches my battered and broken skin with the supplies. The cream is cold but I don't fuss. I got myself into this mess.
"Thank you for the help." My eyes drop towards the ground.
A searing pain explodes across the surface of my cheek which causes me to leap back in shock.
"What the?" I look up to see a flair of anger sprawled across Scarlett's face.
"Don't do anything stupid like that again," she yells.
"I'm not making you a promise." I scooch away from Scarlett in fear of being hit.
"Now you need ice for your eye," she points out.
She walks further down the kitchen and grabs a packet of peas out of a larger freezer box pressed against a free section of wooden walls. I walk down the narrow pathway and take the bag from her hand.
I press it against my eye and wince from the cold touch.
"Thanks for the ice," I whisper.
My eyes catch the sight of her lips which makes me grin. I slowly drift towards Scarlett until my lip begins to throb with pain. That bastard split my lip.
"It's not a problem." She sighs.
Scarlett's gaze flickers to the ground leaving an awkward tense state between us. A different kind of anger wells up inside of my chest as the lost opportunity. I really want to kiss her lips.
Anyone else team Scarlett and Peirce? So cute : )