The Night King

2.) Like Moses

I decided to go, surprise, surprise. Fucking hell.

I paced the house most of the day, cleaning as I went because we were slobs and usually just pretended to tidy up. Muirgen was particularly bad and I didn't even want to bother trying to wade through the piles of shit that she left on every available surface of her bedroom.

We'd lived together in the house her parents had given her since my own foster family had died and I could probably count on one hand the number of times I'd seen her actually put an effort into cleaning that room.

My laptop sat on the coffee table, lonely and pathetic. Writers block had hit me hard since that night with him, so I studiously avoided looking at the glowing screen that seemed to wail at me whenever I passed by.

Into Shadow had hit the shelves only eighteen months ago, and already my editor was pushing for the manuscript of the sequel. It would be the second in ,what I hoped would be, a four part erotic mystery series; the first of which had flown off the shelves at a breakneck pace, while I still floundered with putting words to the elaborate universe of non stop action that played continuously in my head. I hadn't even thought of a title.

Without a single line typed in two months, I wasn't sure I'd be able to finish my work in time, despite having already written half of it.

One more chapter, I kept telling myself but the block remained and my deadline loomed like one of the characters in my novel.

By the time every floor in the apartment had been bleached or polished and the laundry re-folded Gen was home from work and half dressed for dinner and the fiasco that was sure to follow.

Gone were the long summer nights and thick sweltering heat, Autumn had come early as it usually did in our little town, the cold promising that an unforgiving Winter approached.

It was perfect.

I'd been sick at the thought of wearing swimsuits, of being forced into more revealing clothes because of the heat. Our electricity bill had been pretty frightening as a result, not that we ever had to pay it. Muirgen was more right than she likely realized, he had already been ruling my life. And I was paying for it, every god damn day. I was scared, of what I couldn't exactly place since I hadn't seen him in so long, I didn't want anyone to see my body; to want me in that way. Playing the victim in my own life story was deeply depressing.

I chose my outfit carefully, an olive green oversized cable knit sweater dress that fell to my ankles paired with a pair of distressed chunky heeled booties and a wide brim fedora. Always careful to never reveal too much skin, but damnit if I was going to face my fears and actually leave the house for the first time in months I was going to look good doing it.

Stupid Muirgen and her stupid need to go to stupid parties. Now I was going to have to talk to people and, ugh, what would I say when people asked why they hadn't seen me in so long?

"Or" I grumbled as I contoured my jawline "I could just stay home. Catch up on The Vampire Diaries, since I never finished the fourth season." My heart raced and I suddenly felt like crying, only you don't just cry after putting on layers of makeup so I didn't.

It had taken most of my life to come to terms with my appearance but I had before that night. Wide hazel brown eyes, my brown skin marked by vitiligo with spots of white dusting across the bridge of my nose and on my forehead. A long, thick mane of tight black coils that I'd slicked back into a bun for the night: my chin dimpled and lips full. I was pretty, but all I could see when I looked at myself were the bruises and cuts left by his desperate grasp.

So I stopped looking.

Muirgen's sultry voice could be heard, probably in the kitchen, the deep tenor wove a hypnotic melody, and I felt myself relax, like always, at the familiar sound.

"Are you ever not hungry?" I asked as I turned the corner of the kitchen and found her shoulder deep in the refrigerator. We would have to go grocery shopping again before the week was out.

"If I didn't eat, you never would," she chortled and turned to face me with an armful of of snacks.

"Because given the chance you'd eat everything down to the questionables at the back of the fridge that neither of us can be bothered to trash." I pulled the dish of cheesecake out of her reach before she could take another forkful.

"Anywaay," she sang cheerfully "let's go get our party on, huh? This is gonna be a night for the books, I promise!"

"Super weird how that doesn't make me wanna go at all," I mumbled."Let's just get this shit show over with." I grabbed my handbag, equipped with pepper spray and taser, and tossed her the car keys. "The sooner we go the sooner we can come back."

"I promise babe, one day we're gonna look back on this night and laugh."

•••
•••

The bonfire was being held on the land behind the Felle's ranch. Their mansion, gleaming white and resplendent, was big enough to be seen from the center of town, even though they lived at least thirty miles away from us lowly middle class.

They were the wealthiest family in our little town, so the booze was top shelf, the music too loud and the sound of suck ups and boot kissers could be heard for miles.

Erich Felle, the oldest of five brothers (and the smarmiest), was hosting this party in celebration of his father, Felix, running for mayor. The widowed patriarch had failed as a father, and had about as much interest in the government and wellbeing of the people as Trump himself.

I leaned towards my roommate to tell her my little joke, but of course she was gone, probably seconds after we got out of the car. She left me. Why am I even surprised?

Muirgens natural inclination towards shameless flirting was not news, but now I sat on the outskirts of the party with an empty Solo cup in one hand and my phone in the other.

At least one of us was getting some, probably, and I knew she'd share all the personal and far too graphic details later so I could live vicariously through her.

I'd never had much luck with the opposite sex before, I'd been on a handful of dates but nothing ever came of them. Of course the irony of the fact that I wrote erotica for a living was not lost on me.

"Still don't know how I managed to pull that one off," I murmured to myself.

"Oh my God is that him? I thought he was in the UK with Kevin!"

I paused mid-swipe through Instagram to listen to the chatter, only mildly interested but bored after wandering the outskirts of the party alone for over an hour. The people of this little town were nice enough, but the steady stream of gossip-most of it completely made up- was a constant reminder of just how small this town really was.

Mary-Anna Fischer and her twin sister Brianna-May (is gone to high school with them and still couldn't tell one from the other) stood side by side, both tip toeing to see above the dense crowd that had gathered around the bonfire while I wasn't looking.

"Do you think it's him, oh my god I didn't wear my good bra! Do you think I should run home and change?"

"Yeah, because he's definitely busting his zipper try to get into your pants, Mae."

"Collin Felle could do a helluva lot worse than me, rude bitch."

The crowd parted for a moment, and there he was, Collin Patrick Felle. It was the first time I'd seen him since that night and suddenly I wasn't afraid anymore. In place of the fear was burning fury, because how dare he do that to me!

What kind of pussy just runs away after violating one of their best friends without taking responsibility or at least pretending to be sorry? He was a filthy rat faced bastard, and all I wanted in that moment was to take Muirgen up on her offer of having one of her scary friends rip his dick off.

The people moved around him like he was fucking Moses, shaking his stupid hand and leaning towards him to beg for a moment of his attention. He was Lucifer, with the face of angel but evil lurked behind his eyes.

I needed to get the fuck out of there.

••• •••