Dark Season: The Complete Box Set (77 page)

I run to catch up to him.

Comfortable

I can't believe I did it! I actually spoke to her! Damn, I've made a huge mistake. I'm not ready. I'm going to mess everything up. There's no way I should be anywhere near her.

She's cute, though. Gorgeous, in fact. I don't know why she throws herself at men so readily, when she could have anyone she wanted. I just hope she doesn't see through my lies too soon. I'd like one night with her, just to enjoy her company. That's all I deserve.

Shelley

Comfortable and I end up sitting in a noisy bar called Domino's. I've walked past this place a thousand times and never thought to come inside, 'cause frankly it looks like a dive populated by bikers and crazies. However, it's not actually that bad: the music's awful, but the drinks are good and cheap, and everyone seems friendly enough. Not that I'm here for the atmosphere. I'm here to get to know Comfortable, to work out what makes him tick, and to see if I can get closer to him. I want to understand him.

"I want to understand you," he says to me.

"What?" I reply, momentarily stunned. It's almost as if he read my mind.

"I want to know what makes you tick," he continues, eying me with a strange expression. "I'm interested in you. I want to work out what puts that light in your eyes."

"Light in my eyes?" I ask. "Okay." Cheesy line. I kind of hoped for better from a guy who looks so good, but I guess my expectations are perhaps a little too high. What would I rather have? A guy who uses cheesy lines but who looks drop dead gorgeous, or a guy who's poetic and eloquent but looks awful? "Do you like girls who have light in their eyes?" I ask.

He smiles. "It makes you... memorable."

"I like being memorable," I reply.

"I bet you do." He looks down at my drink. "So do you drink to forget?"

"What?" I ask.

"You drink a lot," he continues. "I mean, it seems like you do. Is it so you can forget things?"

I pause. "No," I say eventually. "I don't have any trouble forgetting stuff when I need to. I drink because..." I take a deep breath. "I know a secret," I say eventually. "Something I shouldn't know. It's about a friend of mine. My best friend. I don't know why I was told it, and I wish I could do something about it, but..." I take a swig from my drink. "It's complicated, you know?" I look at my phone. "I've been trying to call her, but she won't answer. I'm kind of worried about her."

"If you're really worried," he says, "you should report her missing."

I laugh. "Can't do that," I say. "Trust me. They'd ask if anyone might wanted to hurt her, and there's no way I could answer that question honestly." I pause. "I guess I just have to trust that Patrick's looking after her."

"Patrick?" Comfortable asks.

"A guy," I say. I stare at him. "Haven't you got any secrets, Comfortable?"

"No," he says.

"You should get some," I reply. "It'd make you more interesting." I look down at my drink. Damn it, that was harsher than I'd meant to sound.

"Anything I can help with?" he asks.

I shake my head. "Well, maybe. If you can help me take my mind off it."

"And how can I do that?" he asks, smiling.

I look away for a moment, trying not to let him see me blush. Fuck it, I
never
blush. I turn back to him, but I can't get this goofy grin off my face. "I'm sure we can find a way," I say.

He laughs. "Stop throwing yourself at me," he says. "You're better than that." He stares at me with those big, kind eyes. "Hold back a little. Have some mystery. Make me work for it."

I frown. "Okay," I say.

"Come on," he says, standing up. "I want to show you something."

I stare at him.

"Not that," he says. "Something way cooler. Something way bigger than both of us put together. It's a bit out of town, so you'll have to trust me. Is that okay?"

I think about it for a moment, and then I stand up. "Sure," I say. "Why not?"

We head out of the bar and toward the park.

"You're pretty brave," he says, smiling. "Or stupid."

"You think?" I ask.

"You're following a guy you barely know to one of the darkest parts of town. I mean, I could be a murderer or anything." He smiles at me. "Don't you have a sense of self-preservation?"

"Course I do," I say as we walk through the gates and into the dark, poorly-lit park. "But I also have a good sense of whether or not I can trust a guy, and I think I can trust you."

"You do?"

"Sure," I continue. "You've got kind eyes. And there's something about you that makes me feel safe." Okay, that's kind of bullshit. What's really happening here is that I'm willing to take a risk on this guy because he's cute, and because I'm hoping he's bringing me to the park because he wants to fuck me, and because I've got a 6.8 million volt stun gun in my purse and I'm not afraid to use it. If some guy thinks he can hurt me, I'll zap his ass before he knows what's hit him.

"Over here," he says, leading me toward a chain-link fence. There's a gap, and he shows me through, leading me into a part of the park that I've never been to before. I glance at the NO ENTRY sign, but I figure Comfortable seems to know what he's doing so I decide to keep following him, and eventually we reach a large building.

"What the hell
is
this place?" I ask. It's too dark to really make out much, but I can see that this part of the park seems to be abandoned.

"It's an old factory," Comfortable says. He pauses. "It's where I live."

"Seriously?" I ask.

"Seriously," he replies. "I was born here. I grew up here. And I live here."

"Here?" I ask, still not sure whether I should take him seriously. "In an abandoned factory?"

"Yeah," he says, "but I've made it real nice inside. Come on, I'll show you."

He leads me to a small side door and then into the building. The ground floor isn't much to look at, with plenty of broken glass and smashed furniture.

"One day," Comfortable says, with a hint of sadness in his voice, "someone's gonna notice this place, or remember that they own it, and they're gonna come and do it up or knock it down. But until then, it's my home."

"Cool," I say.

"Come upstairs," he replies, leading me over to the stairs. "I keep the downstairs bit like this so that it still looks abandoned, but upstairs is where I've made it nice."

He's right. As soon as we get up to the next level, it's much more obvious that this is someone's home. There's a mattress on the floor, and a pile of books, and a sofa with some clothes thrown over the back. The only light comes from the moon, streaming in through the large window.

"It's not much," he says. "But it's a place to live. It's
my
place." He suddenly takes off his jacket and puts it over my shoulders. "Sorry," he continues. "I haven't got any heating."

"It's fine," I say, although I'm glad of the warmth from his jacket. "Thanks."

"So tell me about yourself, Shelley," he says, leading me over to the sofa. We sit down. "Tell me why a smart, beautiful girl like you ends up following a deadbeat guy like me back to an abandoned warehouse." He smiles. "Shouldn't you be off somewhere like New York or Los Angeles, living a real life instead of bumming around in Dedston?"

"Totally," I reply. "As soon as I make my first million dollars, I'm out of here." I take a deep breath. "I keep telling myself I'll be out of here in a year, but the truth is I've been telling myself the same thing since I hit puberty. It's not that easy making a move. I used to think my friend Sophie and I were going to move away together, but... I guess Dedston isn't that bad."

"Bullshit," Comfortable replies, grinning. "Dedston's the worst stinking hell-hole on the planet. It's all concrete and crappy little shops. No-one really lives here; they just get by and try to survive. You shouldn't be here. You should be somewhere better."

"You got a million dollars I can borrow?" I ask. "I promise I'll pay you back."

"If I had a million dollars," he replies, "do you think I'd be living in this dump?" He pauses. "Yeah," he says, with a hint of sadness in his voice. "Maybe I would be. I guess this is my home."

As he stares into space, I can't help noticing that there seems to be a lot of sadness in his eyes, the kind of sadness that's impossible to really hide. I don't know his story, but he's definitely been through some shit. You can just tell. "Hey," I say, moving closer to him. "Come here." I lean in and kiss him.

The kiss lasts a couple of minutes. It's slow and tender, and eventually I reach down and take his hand, moving it up and placing it on my chest. I pull away from the kiss a little. "You want to?" I ask, looking deep into his eyes.

"No!" he says, sounding shocked and getting up from the sofa. He takes a step away and then he turns back to me, looking almost angry. "What the hell's wrong with you, Shelley?" he asks. "Why do you throw yourself at guys like you're not worth anything?"

"Excuse me?" I ask, bristling at the idea that this guy thinks he knows all about me. I mean, he's kind of right, but he's still way out of line.

"Do you think that's all you're good for?" he asks, almost shouting at me. "Do you think the only reason a guy could be interested in you is so he can fuck you?"

"No," I say, standing up and getting ready to walk out of here. "It's nothing like that."

"You've got no self-esteem," he says, clearly warming to his little rant. "No fucking self-esteem at all. You open your legs for every man who shows up. You treat yourself like trash, and other people treat you the same way."

"You don't know anything about me," I say, starting to get angry.

"I've seen you," he spits back. "Night after night you go to shitty bars and end up getting fucked on a toilet floor, or up against a wall in some alley, and you stagger home drunk."

I stare at him. "What the fuck?" I ask. "Have you been watching me?"

He sighs.

"Are you stalking me or something?" I feel my heart start to race.

"It's not like that," he says, stepping towards me.

I pull the stun gun out of my purse and aim it at him. "Don't come any closer," I say. "I swear to God, I'll zap you so hard you'll have burn marks on your face for a week."

He keeps his distance, but he seems more amused than scared. "I just think you deserve better," he says. "You deserve a guy who treats you well, and you deserve a life where you're not constantly putting yourself in danger by letting any guy get into your pants for the price of a beer."

I keep the stun gun aimed at him. "That's cute," I say, "but it's also a little bit weird." I pause for a moment. "Actually, it's
very
weird
."

"I'm not going to hurt you," he says, stepping toward me.

"That's what people usually say right before they hurt you," I stay, taking a step back.

"I'd never do that," he says, coming closer. He reaches out a hand. "You know I'm -"

Almost instinctively, I pull the trigger on the stun gun and send a charge straight through Comfortable's body. He convulses for a moment and then falls to the ground.

"Sorry," I say under my breath. I've never used the stun gun before. I just carried it about with me night after night, in case I ever got into a difficult situation. Kneeling next to Comfortable, I check his pulse and find that he's still alive. I look around, not sure what to do, and then I decide to do what I always do when I'm scared.

I run.

Twomoney

She doesn't go home. She goes to a bar. Or maybe the bar feels more like home? Either way, I stick close to her, watching from the shadows. She's so beautiful; I can't take my eyes off her. All I want to do is step out in front of her and tell her how much I love her, but I can't. I'm too scared. She'll never be able to love me, to care about me, even to look at me without feeling sick. I'm hideous, and I deserve nothing more than to watch her from afar.

But tonight I'm not the only one who's watching her.

He's here.

It's been a long time since I saw Patrick. We've only met once. He found me in the wilderness after I ran and ran and ran away from home. I don't know how he tracked me down, or why he bothered. I was weak and naked, terrified and screaming. I guess he just wanted to come and make absolutely sure that I wasn't going to pose a threat. I still remember looking up and seeing him towering over me. I genuinely thought he was going to kill me, and he certainly had the chance. He could have wrung the life from my body with ease, but he just stared at me, and then he turned and walked away.

He should have killed me, but he didn't, and now we meet again. Well, not quite. He has no idea that I'm here. I stay far enough back that effectively I'm watching him as he's watching Shelley. I've long known that he has an interest in Shelley's friend Sophie, but I never thought he was interested in Shelley herself. I thought he saw her as just a bystander, someone disposable, but here he is, stalking her through the late night Dedston streets.

If he attacks her, I'll have to intervene. I can't stand back and watch while Patrick kills the girl I love. But why would he want to hurt her? It doesn't make sense, especially since he could have killed her long ago if that was truly his intention. No, he's up to something else, and I have to figure out what that is. Perhaps he's hoping she'll lead him to something, or he thinks she knows something. He's still looking for that baby, so maybe he thinks Shelley knows the big secret. If that's the case, he's wrong. But Patrick's been wrong before, so why not now?

Still, I'd have no chance against him. If I attack Patrick, I'll be dead within seconds.

Suddenly, and without warning, Patrick leaves. Shelley has just gone into a dowdy little bar near the waterfront, and Patrick turns and rushes off into the night. I loiter a little longer, making extra sure that he's really gone. After all, I wouldn't put it past him to pretend to leave just so he can see if anyone else is taking an interest in Shelley. But no, this time he's really gone. Whatever he wanted with her, he's got it now. Perhaps he just wanted to find out where she'd be?

I head over to the bar and peer in through the small window. I could never go inside, of course; not with all those people. I'm sure one of them would notice me eventually, and then I'd be in trouble. I'd be set upon by all of them, and I wouldn't stand a chance. I'm strong, sure, but not strong enough to take on an entire bar full of angry humans. So I have to wait out here, watching Shelley from a distance as always.

No sooner has she ordered a drink, than a guy starts talking to her. He's a big, well-built guy, not entirely unlike the guy I killed the other night. He's pretty old, at least in his 50s, with a shaved head and a little beard covering his chin. He clearly knows Shelley, and they talk for a while before he produces some money and puts it on the counter. Shelley looks cautious for a moment, but then she pockets the money and stands up, allowing the guy to lead her out through the back door.

I scurry down the alley by the side of the bar, and soon I hear movement nearby. It takes me a moment to carefully creep toward them, but Shelley and the guy are now out the back. My heart sinks as I realize why the guy gave her the money. She pulls down her trousers and then her underwear, stepping out of them and standing for a moment, completely naked from the waist down. Then, as the guy unzips his pants, Shelley turns and leans forward over a trash can. I close my eyes as I hear the guy start to grunt. I don't need to watch this. I know what he's paying for. If only I had the money, I'd give it to her so she wouldn't have to do things like this.

Eventually I realize I can't hear the guy grunting any more, so I open my eyes. But he's still there, still thrusting into her, and I make the mistake of looking at Shelley's face. She has this completely blank look in her eyes. I was expecting her to be crying, or at least looking sad, but instead she just looks expressionless, as if she doesn't care that some strange guy is fucking her like this. Finally the guy grunts as he climaxes, and moments later he pulls out. Shelley stands up, grabs a tissue from her pocket and wipes herself, then pulls her trousers back up. Job done. Ass sold.

Without saying a word, the guy just turns and walks back into the bar. I stay in the shadows and watch as Shelley slowly walks away, counting her money. Part of me wants to stay and wait for that guy to come back out, so I can rip him apart. He deserves to die for the things he did to my poor, beautiful Shelley, but I have a duty to perform, so I turn and follow Shelley, remaining in the shadows. She has no idea I'm here, of course, but I have to follow her all the way home, to make sure nothing even worse happens to her. I guess you could say I'm her guardian angel.