The Night King

1.) Rosé & F r i e n d s

I'd started drinking again, never enough to black out but I'd gained five pounds in the last few months and it wasn't doing me any favors. What's worse was the fact that my best friend, and roommate, Muirgen ate twice as much as I did and drank like it was her last day on earth but never gained or even lost a single pound.

I cast a glance at her over the lip of my Rosé, and resisted the urge to cover my tummy in the presence of her modelesque perfection. We wore essentially the same outfit after I'd managed to rope her in for two hours at the gym: sports bras and leggings. Only she looked like a Victoria's Secret Angel, and I most definitely did not. It's hard hating your best friend, especially when she's such a good best one.

"So what do you want to do tomorrow ," the deep huskiness of her voice pulled me from my moping, while another episode of  F r i e n d s  played on Netflix. "I was thinking we could grab sushi and then maybe gotothebonfirebythelake and then come home and relax for the rest of the weekend?"

I rolled my eyes and chucked a leaf of kale from my salad at her forehead."Nice try, but I speak Muirgen so that's not gonna work."

"Oh, but come on Nicki," she pouted and twirled waist length silver grey strands around manicured fingers. "It's gonna be fun, we never do anything fun!"

"Not gonna happen, Gen. You remember what happened last time I let you convince me to go to a party."

She had the decency to blush, her excitement fading while her piercing black eyes lowered in shame. "That was a fluke, I thought you forgave me for that.  And plus, he's out of town and I heard he might not be back for weeks."

I shuddered, and this time I did cover myself with the throw we kept on the sofa. "Let's not talk about him, please?"

He was someone I had once considered a good friend, but after that night I couldn't look at him(and sometimes even myself) without feeling my stomach churn with the urge to vomit. I still had nightmares, even though I'd been so lucky. Nothing really happened. At least that's what I told myself.

"You know you can tell me what happened,Nickole ." Muirgen said quietly,"I'm here for you".

She was right,of course, and I knew that but I still wanted to tell her to mind her business. I knew I couldn't blame her for being curious - I hadn't given too many details the day after. I'd reappeared the morning after it happened, dress torn and bloody. Most people assumed I'd been attacked when I stumbled out of the woods, that much was obvious but they had no idea by what or who. Muirgen had put the pieces together, but she didn't have the whole story.

I put down the wineglass before my shaking hand could drop it. "I don't want to go to another party, Gen. It's never been my scene anyway."

She was silent then, more than likely noting that I'd evaded her question for probably the hundredth time, and simply stared at me in that eerie way that was pure Muirgen before reaching out and pulling me into a hug that probably could have broken my ribs if she hadn't been careful.

"You don't have to tell me anything Nick, just know that if you want I know some people who wouldn't mind ripping his dick off piece by piece,just say the word."

I snorted and tried to hug her back, although my arms felt like they were lead and my heart beat a staccato rhythm so loud I'm almost positive she could hear it.

"Should I even ask how you know these people?"

"Absolutely not," she said and stole some of the blanket and turned to watch Ross dust baby powder on his thighs.

It was only later while we washed our dishes that she brought up the subject again.

"Just promise me you won't let him make you afraid to live your life, Nicki. Don't let him win."

It was the most I'd talked about the incident, and a sense of foreboding sent a chill up my spine.

Collin Felle had been one of my best friends since I'd moved to this town with my foster parents ten years ago. The son of the wealthiest family in the state, and probably a few of those surrounding, he'd always been the most down to earth of his family.

Or so I thought. Obviously I wasn't the best judge of character.

It was the week after  I'd returned from my year of traveling through Europe and Africa with Muirgen, we'd been funded by the money my parents had left for me in their will and nearly endless allowance Muirgen's family sent her each month.

At twenty five I'd been restless, a college dropout and just finished signing with a publishing firm, it had seemed the perfect time to see the world. India and Nigeria had beckoned, I had never known my true parents, and therefore my heritage. My late foster parents were both white as the driven snow while my skin was a deep golden brown.

I returned home without the answers I'd been hoping for, although no less satisfied with the experience.

A party had been thrown in our honor and the entire town had been invited to celebrate over a bonfire in the woods. In reality any writer worth her salt would've been able to guess the outcome of something so cliché. It was like I'd hand written a message to fate herself and asked her to shit on my life.

The evening started on a high note, the booze was flowing and spirits were high; Muirgen was already surrounded by her many admirers and Collin been glued to my hip since the moment he'd met us at the airport even sleeping over, insisting on sharing my bed instead of the couch. I should have been paying more attention, should have noticed the side eyed looks and that smirk I knew he reserved for possible conquests.

The morning after, when I stumbled out of the woods into the arms of my best friend and half the town who'd joined her in looking for me, Collin was nowhere to be found.

I took a deep sip of my wine and reached for the spliff Muirgen was hogging. She is cuddled in beside me, her head on my shoulder and our pinkies intertwined.

"You know I love you, right best friend?" She says suddenly, the husky tenor of her voice is a comforting melody and I feel myself relax against her.

"Yea, I know."

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