Cold Flame

Karel

My chest felt tight as I walked out the door. None of it felt right. None of it was. I walked away, my spot still dangling in his fingers with that smug smile on his face. Every few steps I slowed, half expecting him to call me back.

He didn’t.

Somehow that felt worse.

My throat got too dry to even scream into the cold night air and the heat crawling into my skin wasn’t helping either.

The night air cooled my face but it couldn’t cool whatever he’d left inside my head.

I ducked into one of the stalls. That’s the only way I could get it off me. I ran the water in the stall and tried to wash it off me. Five minutes I was good. But when I stepped out, it returned. I was hard again. Fuck. Am I in heat or something? I didn’t mind, just went into the night, without direction or location in mind.

I rubbed my palms against my jeans like I could erase the feeling.

Dael called. Voice high-pitched like she’d been watching animation. “Karel? You didn’t come. You’re alright?”

I itched the back of my head. All the stupid things I’ve done today had made me forget we were supposed to hang out. I could hear Miguel’s chattering in the background. “Tell him to come taste this honey cake. He’ll forget all his troubles—”

Dael’s worried voice came again. “What’s wrong? You aren’t responding. Karel?”

My mouth was open but words couldn’t form. I just held the phone to my ear and couldn’t speak, a hand gripping my jacket. “I’m fine.” I tried saying as a strand of saliva drew from my mouth. My throat burned. Dael’s voice was still ringing on the phone. I almost told her everything.

That I’d made the worst decision of my life. That I didn’t even know how to explain it.

But Dael still believes I could fix anything. I didn’t want to be the one to prove her wrong.

I hung up.

Neon lights flashed in my face. Boldly written FIAMMA FREDDA. Maybe something to cool off, I guess. I went toward the bar with my hands shoved deep in my jacket pocket.

I stood in front of it for a full minute. People laughed as they walked in. Couples disappeared through the doors. I just needed somewhere my thoughts would shut up.

Bodies swamped in and out. Legs like octopus and body wriggling like salted earthwarm. The smell of heat and sex filled the smoky hall. Music was too loud compared to the eerie night outside. It’s a whole new world in here and I prayed inwardly for it to be breathable.

I shoved my way through the vibrant crowd to the service bar. Ordered a bottle. The bartender hesitated before handing it over. He should have doubted my age. Probably because of my shorts and pullovers with a messy man bun. I pushed my ID on his table so he wouldn’t arrest me for being underaged. Police stations aren’t my thing.

I poured myself a glass and gulped it in a go. It burned, but didn’t burn what I wanted. The image of that bastard in my head that refused to leave. I drowned two bottles, though I was conscious, my vision blurred at the corners.

I checked my phone again. No new messages from Dael. Nothing from Miguel either.

Just the old text from Ferdi sitting there like it owned my screen.

I wanted to delete it. My thumb hovered.

It wouldn’t move.

The music became a whisper till someone dropped beside me. His chest button opened. I faced front when his smile became too wild, hate to get attached with smilers. But he spoke anyway. “Hey.” He waved slightly. I turned my tired eyes to him. I couldn’t tell what he looked like but he sure smells like an ass.

“Care for a dance?” he grinned too wildly. And I hiccuped. Who the fuck asks that these days. I almost hit his mouth with a wrestling flier on the counter.

“What do you want?” I asked, not shifting my drunk eyes away. He shifted in his seat, his smile faltering for a moment. “You have pretty eyes.” He came closer, hands trailing up my thighs. I let him, maybe this was what I needed after all. His hands went into my shorts, massaging my skin till it became hot.

“It wouldn’t be comfortable here,” he said again, eyes dark with lust. I stood up and led the way into one of the stalls. His lips went to my neck sucking and biting. Hands roaming around my body, but the satisfaction wasn’t there. I just felt hollow, I couldn’t even concentrate. Maybe I should just imagine it was him touching me, it might help. I closed my eyes, but his glare clouded my thoughts. I pushed the guy back. His brow creased. “What’s wrong with you? You aren’t responding.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, then he continued. My phone buzzed annoyingly. He held me in place but I wriggled out of his grip. “Give me a second.” My screen lit up, a text stared at me.

“He touches you again and I kill him.” It was no other person than Ferdi. He can only be the bastard. I looked around the large bathroom. Just people fucking and minding their own business. No prying eyes. No Ferdi. A strange feeling crawled over my skin. Like someone was watching. I glanced toward the bathroom entrance again.

Nothing.

I told myself I was imagining things.

“Let’s continue,” I said and this time I fisted the man’s shirt. Tonguing his mouth roughly. It didn’t feel like it should be. I just kept it up. My phone vibrated again. I didn’t reach for it. Ferdi could go to hell. It buzzed the third time.

The man’s hands reached for my waistband, dragging my jeans down. I wanted to pull away, but something pulled first as a loud groan tore out of the man’s throat.

The gunshot was silent. His wrist blew to a corner. My eyes cleared off all the alcohol I’ve taken all my life.

Everything stopped.

The music.

Even my breathing and the air felt frozen.

For one impossible second nobody moved.

Then screaming began.

The bathroom users freaked out, girls screaming out like toads.

My legs felt like jelly, my stomach dropped to the floor as I felt the urge to throw up. My phone buzzed again. I swallowed the urge. Ferdi’s three messages blurred my screen. ‘I’ll really kill him’

‘I hate snobs’ and the last text hung in block letters. ‘IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT’

My fingers went numb.

No…

I searched every corner of the room.

He wasn’t there.

Somehow that terrified me even more.

He’d blown someone’s wrist out and called it my fault?

I stood there, the man yelling at me to call an ambulance felt like a distant shout.

Someone pushed past me. Another slipped on the wet floor and a woman cried into the phone. Everyone was trying to escape. But my legs were glued.

The cops came in minutes later, they looked me head to toe. My bloody fingers, blood splash on my face and jeans shorts. I was a living evidence. A crime scene at a glance. I should have washed off long before they arrived and ran away, but I didn’t have a single calcium left in my body.

“What happened here?” The head cop asked as the manager of the club came around looking beaten.

I couldn’t answer, my hands shook. I stared at the limp man slumped on the tile with blood. I couldn’t say a thing. Who knew I would have to face this kind of mess today. God doesn’t answer prayers. At least not for someone like me. My ginger hair fell over my face. I wanted to cry and beg so they wouldn’t take me for questioning. Cells are the worst. It was too dark.

The officers dragged me by the arm and pulled me towards them.

Tomorrow my name will be on the headline and our school dashboard: Karel Devan was arrested because a certain maniac shot his hookup partner.

The head cop’s cold eyes glared at me. I glared back despite myself and his tongue twitched and for a moment he looked familiar. I shook off the thought.

They dragged me to their van and when I was about to be thrown in, the head cop’s phone rang. Everyone froze like the air had been sucked up. He put the phone to his ear and whatever they told him on that phone made his face go white.

He ended the call. Then turned to me. “Go home.” His eyes lingered somewhere in my head. The officer’s hands went down immediately. I watched the car zoom off. Leaving me there standing on the lonely street. My hands reached up to my naked arms. My jacket was gone. My phone still rested in my hand. Three unread messages from one name.

Ferdi

For the first time since meeting him, I wondered if I should be more afraid of him or the police who’d just let me go.