As I glance at the clock, I realize it's nearing 4 A.M, and the echoes of Wrath's piano playing have ceased. Despite the late hour, I know Sophie is likely still in the midst of her revelry. I shoot her a quick text to confirm before informing her of my impending arrival.
Be there in 15.
It blows my mind how much has happened in just the last couple of hours. I've barely slept a wink; the events of the evening blur together in a chaotic frenzy. We had our first date, we argued, I cried, we fucked, then cried again, I found out they'd been trying to kill me, we all cried, argued a bit more, and now I'm going to the club.
How exciting.
As I tiptoe my way out of my room, carrying my heels in one hand and my travel bag in the other, I can feel the weight of apprehension pressing me down. Every creak of the floorboards feels like a thunderclap in the stillness of the night, and I hold my breath, praying for silence. My heart races as I cautiously swing the door open, bracing myself for any sign of movement. When I see Cierien, I instinctively suck in a breath.
Relief floods through me when I catch sight of his form slumped against the doorframe of his bedroom. His expression is softened by sleep, his features relaxed in peaceful repose. For a fleeting moment, I hesitate, the urge to confront him warring with the need to escape.
He looks like a little angel... an angel that will plan your parent's death then lure you to yours. How cute.
But in the end, I simply slip past him, rolling my eyes as I keep my steps quiet to avoid waking him. He remains undisturbed, seemingly drained from the tumultuous events of the night. I navigate the staircase with care, avoiding the creaky spots with practiced precision. Just as I reach the front door, ready to revel in my small victory and perform a happy little dance, a voice shatters the silence from behind me.
"Where are you going, sweetheart?" Wrath's voice has my heart lurching in my chest as I whirl around, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
The petname has me threatening to spill forth in a torrent of words, but I clamp down on the impulse, pushing the anger away. I quickly find his guilt-ridden face and smile. "Out."
And then I'm gone. He doesn't attempt to follow me. There's no pleading or protestations; I'm surprised by his uncharacteristic restraint. Here I believed he was incapable of doing anything but acting out.
I make my way to my car, not too concerned about whether or not I'll have to leave it at the club tonight. If I have to call a ride back to Sophie's, leave my car, and risk a tow, then so be it. I'll deal with the consequences later.
As I pull up to my destination, I'm met with the familiar sight of a bustling Saturday night crowd. The lack of available parking spots catches me off guard, but I suppose it is to be expected given the popularity of the nightlife scene in this area. With a resigned groan, I take a chance and choose the closest spot I can find, risking a ticket.
I lock my car and make my way through the throngs of people, the pulsating rhythm of the music growing louder with each step. The line isn't too long, most people have already been here for hours, or come and gone by now. Some idle outside, seeking respite from the haze of assorted substances that pollute the air. My lips are a casualty of my anxious gnawing as I stand alone, feeling adrift without the presence of a friend by my side. A quick text from Sophie elicits the promise of her waiting at the entrance. Still, anxiety pulses through me, electric and insistent, and I have to remind myself that I'm only a few steps away from the comfort of my best friends- Sophie and tequila shots.
The bouncer barely spares a glance at my ID, a routine gesture that no longer holds any surprise for me, having wielded my fake with confidence at this very spot since the age of eighteen. Stepping through the threshold, I'm immediately assaulted by a cacophony of odors- the sharp stench of alcohol mingling with the smell of sweat and the cloud of drugs. My face contorts in a grimace as my eyes struggle to adjust to the pulsating red strobes of light. Smoke coils through the air, stinging my eyes and threatening to smudge my eye makeup. I resist the urge to rub them, blinking through the pain.
YOU ARE READING
Patient A-3
RomanceIn the wake of her parents' passing, Avalyn Adair returns to her childhood abode, seeking closure and a better understanding of the events that shaped her younger years. As she delves deeper into the mysteries of her family, she uncovers a shock rev...
