Snow Space

From the Bear to the Lion

The door was already slightly ajar when Khamil reached it, a low, bronze light seeping through the crack. Someone was awake. Slowly, he walked in, ignoring the pounding of his heart against his chest as he surveyed the room which had initially appeared empty - then he heard the voice that made his blood run cold speak up from the armchair beneath the lamp. 

"Hello, Khamil."

There Rob was, lazily lounging in the dim glow, beer bottle resting between his fingers. He had a smiling look on his face, that instantly sent alarm bells off in Khamil's head.

"Nice of you to show up."

Khamil was frozen by the door, unmoving. He didn't even respond, just watched as Rob stood up and crossed to the kitchen. There, he set down his empty bottle, and took another one from the cupboard, his every move as if it were pre-calculated. 

"Drink?"

A lump had formed in Khamil's throat as he shook his head. Did Rob know? How could he? Rob glanced back at Khamil before shrugging, and cracking open the beer. The hissing sound was loud - invasive of the tense silence that had settled across the room. Rob turned around, leaning against the counter as he gave Khamil an amiable smile, the coldness visible only in his eyes, as he brought the bottle to his lips. 

"It's funny," he mused, a dark, mocking undertone in his voice. As he spoke, he pointed at Khamil as if recalling a humorous anecdote. "I never quite understood you. A good kid who just went wrong, or a delinquent like your friends?"

Khamil held back his words. There was something causing uneasiness in him, and it wasn't just the fact that Rob was clearly drunk. It was the way he was speaking - the chumminess, with a wavering darkness to his mannerisms. 

"And then, not too long ago I went over to the window. Had a little look around, as usual. You'd never believe what had happened." 

He spoke with patronising suspense.

"My car was gone. My beautiful red, Spider Fiat. Of course, in a place like this I'd been long expecting it. But still ... my gut told me otherwise. Do you want to know what my gut told me, Khamil? It told me what I'd been questioning a long, long time. It told me 'you know exactly what thieving little bastard has done this'. Should I let you guess who it was?"

Khamil remained silent - if he spoke, he was sure he'd choke on his words. 

"I don't think I need to," Rob smiled, tilting his head, before waving his hand over casually. "Come here, let me show you something."

"No."

Rob raised his eyebrows, tauntingly surprised.

"I said come here."

"No."

That's when Rob's eyes turned deadly. 

"Come here, or I'll take this bottle and throw it at your fucking head. And it would be a shame to wake up Agnes on a school night, wouldn't it?"

Keeping his eyes set stonily on Rob, Khamil swallowed the fear bubbling up inside of him and slowly crossed the room, his trainers creaking on the floorboards, until he came to a stop, not far away from the man. There was a silence, as Rob's lip curled up slightly into a smirk, though his eyes were like daggers. When he spoke, his words breathed onto Khamil, in the tiny distance between them.

"Where," he started venomously, but maintaining that patronising tone, as if speaking to a child. "Is my car?"

Khamil refused to back down now he was here. He stayed, holding eye contact, but his words trembled ever so slightly.