SO COLD (18+) currently editing

Chapter 21.5

CHARACTER VIEWS DO NOT REPRESENT MY OWN. Please be civil in the comment section.

I fell asleep for the thousandth time that night, and woke up in the bathroom, slumped in the bath. Staring up at the ceiling, I didn't fully grasp the fact that I was awake, my mind numbly static like an old 3D TV screen with no transmission signal. It was only when the door flew open, Daniel rushing in, unzipping his jeans, trying to aim his shaky stream of piss into the toilet bowl that I came to awareness and motion. My fingers clammily stuck to the inside of the strangely warm bath as I hauled myself out. Daniel and I stared at each other weirdly as if we'd imagined each other's presence and then I walked out onto the landing. My legs felt ghost like, haunting the thin walls, floating paralysed, gliding snail paced, Casper's lamebrained sister. And then I painfully grew legs, opened the door to the kitchen to loud voices that hummed in the air like fat black bees.

The first thing I noticed was the heavy rain outside. It was probably just gone afternoon but it was miserably dark as ever. Wet and chilly January. Next I noted Cole with his arms hanging around Jess' waist, her snuggling into him, racoon wide eyes and wide pink smile, laughing at something he had said. And then I felt a sharp pinch of irritation, this small bitterness that bloomed out of nowhere, manifested darkly in the back of my mind. I flattened it quickly, stomped it, and distanced myself from it. It was irrational: I didn't even like Cole. The man was a piece of shit.

Our gazes met, his indifferent, mine hard, and then I turned away from him completely. "You alright?" Charlie smiled timidly.

I grunted in answer, holding a glass under the cold tap. "About the other day..." he began quietly, I turned to him, my lips pressed, my stare hard and he fidgeted uncomfortably, then continued. "I didn't know what I was saying. I wasn't in the right state of mind, it was a joke."

"Raping people is a joke, is it?"

He glanced around, leaned in and hissed, "Keep your voice down, will you? I was drunk and–"

A hand rested on my shoulder, squeezing tightly. Doriano forced a smile and said, "What's going on? Is this about the other day? I've been meaning to catch up with you, Shay." He was warning me to keep my mouth shut, I didn't need a neon sign to point out the obvious. His fingers were digging into me painfully.

I knocked over the overfilling glass, and then straightened it, closing the tap once it was full. "Shay?" Doriano prompted for a response, and tried to steer me, "shall we go into another room?"

I elbowed him in the gut, pushing him away from me, and picking up my glass. "Go screw yourself, the pair of you. I'm not interested in your excuses."

I didn't miss Charlie's panicked look he tossed to Doriano as I walked away from them and to Irvin, who had an unlit cigarette hanging limply from the corner of his mouth. "You don't smoke."

"Stress smoking."

"Right."

"You alright?"

"...Actually. I feel a bit nauseated. Do you want to join me outside?"

"Sure." He nodded, and followed after me. It was refreshingly cool, the air crisp and sharp, the rain fast and soft. He lit the cigarette, swallowed a mouthful of smoke, and paused. He scuffled his shoe, and then looked at me. "My grandma's ill. She's got breast cancer. We thought the tumour was gone for good this time, but it's even worse." His gaze fell, and he drew in a shaky breath, holding the cigarette to his mouth and pausing. "She's not getting treatment this time. Said she's done, tired of it."

I didn't know what to say and the silence deepened, and then he spoke again, his voice quiet. "My uncle is here, he's with her right now at home. He flew in the day we left."