Mostly Dark by Miranda Kate (best ereader for pc TXT) 📕

one was a fight to the death, and maybe next time he wouldn’t make it.
No good for you

 

I saw it as he swung you back on the dance floor. Not many would have, but I was looking. It was just above your elbow, and it brought an image I didn’t enjoy having in my head.

As he swung you again I took a closer look; it had scabbed over. So what was it? A couple of days old?

It wasn’t there earlier in the week, I knew that. I’d kissed every inch of you – like I always did.

You smiled at the guy as he spun you round, and I saw it then: you, him, on his lounge carpet. You on your elbows straddling him. Maybe you bent to kiss him and slipped, or was it the movement? Rabbits came to mind.

You threw your head back and laughed when he dipped you, but when you saw me your smile faltered. I picked up my pint and took a sip, not taking my eyes off you.

The song finished and you came straight over to me. Leaning down to kiss me, I took the back of your head and made it a deep one, giving you a wink as we broke off. And you smiled that smile that was just for me.

I glanced over to see the guy looking. I looked back, murder in my eyes. He knew the score.

You went off again this time to chat up the girls and I relaxed, letting you have your time and enjoying a chat with the lads.

Time shifted.

I saw you dancing with him again. Okay, correction, he was dancing with you and the girls. Still, I didn’t like it. He was too close.

He saw me looking and just looked back. I wasn’t happy.

I glanced over at the lads and checked they’d seen it. They had. He had no idea what he was doing. But I wasn’t worried about him, I was worried about you.

You glanced over too and I winked again. You smiled. I was okay with that. So I moved to the bar and got us some drinks. I took them to the dance floor and cut in, stepping right in front of him, giving you your drink and dancing with you for a couple of seconds. I whispered in your ear and you flicked your tongue across mine. I kissed your neck and left you to it.

When the slow songs started you were across the room with the girls. I saw you look round for me and I laughed beckoning you. But as you walked to me he was there again, pulling at you to go with him. You glanced at me and I waited. What were you going to do?

And I saw it then: that look, that indecision. And I knew then as I’d always known that scab was no accident.

I moved quickly and reached you in a couple of strides, my hand wrapping round your arm, covering the scab.

“She’s coming home with me mate.”

He puffed his chest at me and glanced at you. You gave him a sympathetic smile and nodded. He didn’t argue, walking to the door with the rest of the departing club goers.

As the lads passed me they patted me on the shoulder reassuring me that the job would be done.

I led you out, my hands never leaving you. And in the back of the taxi I took your elbow, turned it over to kiss the scab. As my head came up, our eyes met. The sadness in mine palpable, letting you know I knew. Your eyes were wide but you turned them to gaze out the window as we pulled out of the parking lot.

I put my hand on your leg and you covered mine with yours as a tear rolled down your cheek. I pulled your hand over to my leg and put my arm round you, pulling you into me and kissing the top of your head.

Some would say you were no good for me, but it was me that was no good for you; I let you do whatever you want. But I love you, so what can I do?

Rehab

 

Annabelle giggled as she stood up and attempted to make her way through the crowd that seemed to have magically formed in the tiny club. How long had she been here? She didn’t know anymore … and didn’t really care. She pushed through a group of guys and staggered as one pushed back. Her laugh was cut short by the pain of her bony hip hitting a pillar. She growled and shook a fist at the pillar, causing the guys to laugh. She laughed with them and continued to move towards the toilets.

She fixed her eyes on the door and made a beeline for it. She remembered being twirled around at one point and was sure someone put a hand up her skirt, but before she knew it she was staring into the dimly lit mirror in the toilets, trying to focus on her reflection.

She ignored the bags under her eyes, and how her cheeks had sunken into her jaw line. She attempted to tidy up the lipstick that had smeared during the last line of coke. She wasn’t sure if she improved it, but it wasn’t important; what was, was the rock she’d just scored. She pulled it out of the tiny pocket in her tiny skirt, and held it up between thumb and forefinger. She licked her lips. This could finally do it!

She reached into her other pocket for her little foldable pipe and lighter. Then, taking a surreptitious look round the toilets to make sure no one had seen her, she lurched into one of the cubicles and banged the door shut, fumbling with the lock to secure it.

She pushed the little rock into the pipe bowl, imagining the rush before she’d even brought the lighter up to it, and fell back onto the toilet seat once she did.

 

***

 

When she woke, Annabelle cracked open an eye, but shut it again to protect it from the harsh white light glaring down from the ceiling. She tried to move her hand up to shield her eyes, but found it tied down. Another peep revealed wrist straps tying them to the side of a metal bed.

“Morning Annabelle. How are you feeling?”

She didn’t recognise the voice, and wasn’t going to risk opening her eyes again – the pain of the light was too much. She tried to ask her own question, but gagged instead.

“Easy honey, don’t try to speak, we need to take your intubation tube out first. Come, help me sit you up and breathe out hard as I pull, okay?”

An arm came round her back and Annabelle felt herself being lifted.

“One, two, three, and blow hard!”

Annabelle did, feeling something hard drag along her throat, reducing her to a coughing fit.

“It’s okay honey, drink this and it’ll feel better.”

This time Annabelle opened her eyes and squinted at a paper cup being handed to her. She took a sip and managed to croak, “Where am I?”

“You’re in the Mount View rehabilitation hospital.”

“How did I get here?”

“You were brought in by your family after you were resuscitated by paramedics two days ago.”

“Resuscitated?”

“Yep. You OD’ed I understand. You were found unconscious in a toilet in a club. For a while they weren’t sure you would make it. You’re lucky to be here.”

Annabelle groaned.

“You hurting, honey?”

Annabelle nodded, a tear running down her face.

“Where’s the pain?”

Annabelle tapped her chest on the left, and mumbled, “My heart.”

The nurse checked her pulse. “Is it a sharp pain?”

“It’s broken.”

“What?” The nurse was looking at her watch, counting.

“They knew I didn’t want to come here, but they brought me anyway.”

“They care about you, honey.”

“No, they don’t. They only care about their ‘good name’. Daddy’s little girl can’t be seen to be on drugs.”

More tears tumbled down Annabelle’s face. She looked down at herself, the bag of bones she had become and then at the wrist braces holding her. If only they had left her just a little bit longer it would be over. Now she had to start all over again.

House of Horror

 

Eloise didn’t want to go there again, but they’d insisted. Her hands were shaking by the time they pulled up at the bottom of the embankment. When she looked up at the white weather-board house it seemed to plead its innocence, but she knew better.

Two cars pulled up behind and then someone opened her door. Eloise spun round, eyes wide with terror at the prospect of getting out and going in there again, but a hand took her arm and she knew she had to comply.

She climbed the embankment with them surrounding her. There was no escape, not even inside her head where the sounds she’d endured were replayed, even those made by her own body. She stumbled at the prospect of facing it again.

As they approached the front door Eloise pulled at the man leading her, until they were standing over the coal shoot she’d been shoved down a few terrifying days earlier. The men opened it, taking their time, ready to reveal its horrors.

The smell hit her, metallic and salty: the purist form of distilled fear. And then the sounds reached her and she pulled back, pushing against the men that held her. She clawed at their hands to release her and allow her to run free from the torture chamber below, where the few that were still alive wailed their agony.

And they did, they let her go as they braced themselves for what was ahead, letting her run back to the police van. She pushed through the underbrush oblivious to the damage it inflicted, knowing it could never cut as deep as the tools used in that cellar. Eloise flew into the arms of a waiting social worker, where she allowed herself to be held and comforted, and reminded that her ordeal was over.

Find the Girl

 

He could hear her, her breath panting, but it was distant. He followed where he thought it came from, but a crunch of twigs turned him in another direction. Damon pushed through the undergrowth, ignoring scratches and cuts to his arms and face, and the yanking at his long overcoat as it caught on branches. He had to find her, had to get hold of her, and soon.

He heard another crash and a squeal with it. It froze him in his tracks as he strained to hear more, but there was nothing. He slammed his shoulder against a tree trunk as he tripped over a root, pausing a second to catch his breath before going on. How much longer could he keep this up?

Then he heard a shot fired somewhere off to his left, but no scream followed it. He hoped it had missed. He hoped he still had time as adrenaline gave him another shove forward. He was determined. He had to be the first to reach her; he couldn’t fail again.

A wall of thicket appeared in front of him. As he approached it he wondered how best to get inside, but found that throwing himself in was the only way. Was she in here? He didn’t know, but he had to try.

As he pushed further in, Damon was momentarily blinded by dense leaves. He felt his foot snag on something as