I blink through the grey and suck in a breath, touching the scar with my fingers as the pathetic tears well up. Finn lightly touches my arm to get my attention.
The same intense chill catches my skin and spreads along the scars, as if Finn were tracing them with an ice-cold finger. The sharp pain intensifies as it spreads toward my chest, the bitter cold shooting into my brain. The fog blows out of my mind, replaced by a dizzying ache.
Finn pulls his hand back, wide eyes indicating he’s aware of the sensation. I stare back, unable to speak because every cell in my body has numbed.
“Sorry, I’ve always got cold hands,” he says eventually and sits on his hands.
“That’s an understatement.”
The sensation subsides, warmth pouring back into my limbs, and the cold in my head is replaced with fog of a new intensity. The images of the accident flood in with nausea, my meal heavy on my stomach. I have to leave.
I mumble something about needing the bathroom and leave the table, hoping my slight stagger isn’t visible in the darkened pub.
In the bathroom, I lean over the dirty sink and study myself. My newly-purchased foundation isn’t doing the best job of covering how pale I am, and the pupils of my wide, blue eyes are dilated. The fog ebbs, but the world lurches and I grip the sink, shivering. Goosebumps rise on my arm, over the scars, and I wish I hadn’t taken my jumper off.
A girl around my age appears at the sink next to me, scrubbing tears from her face. She’s smaller than me and her short jacket is torn as if she’s been fighting. As she pushes her long, honey-coloured hair behind her ear, dark bruises are evident on her arms.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
The girl turns to me, her green eyes red-rimmed. “No. Can you help me?”
I think about going to Finn. He can help? “Did someone hurt you? Are they still here?”
She shakes her head. “They’ve gone. But I’m too scared to go alone.”
“Do you want me to call someone for you? Or can I call you a taxi?”
“Please. Then would you wait with me?”
I understand her fear of being alone outside in the dark, especially if her attackers might come back. We leave the bathrooms and walk across the stained red carpet toward the exit.
“Can we go the back way? I don’t want to be seen like this,” she says, and we head toward the propped-open fire doors. The doors open into a side alley piled with beer crates and a large metal skip. The hubbub of voices fades as we head away from the building, down the narrow alley between this building and the next. The girl edges ahead of me and pauses at the point the alley meets the busy street. I pull my phone from my pocket and search for the nearest taxi firm. Looking at the list, I decide the best option would be to go hail one; in this part of the city, they’re plentiful.
I put my phone away. “I’m just going to tell my friend what’s going on. Have you thought about calling the police?”
The girl cocks her head then shakes her hair over her shoulder before coming back along the alley. Her eyes glint in the darkness and she holds a hand toward my face. I step back.
“I didn’t want to go with them, but I’m running out of time here,” she whispers.
Something in this girl’s demeanour brings the red-haired girl’s face to mind, and I question the sanity of standing in darkened alleyways with strangers.
“I think maybe we should wait inside,” I say and edge back toward the fire door.
“You can help me. I only need a little of what you have.”
I peer at the scruffy girl. Is she homeless and targets unsuspecting soft touches like me at night? “My money’s inside.”
“No, not that. I don’t want money.”
A sensation crawls across my scalp, like spiders caught in my hair. I need to go. This girl is around my size, which means nothing; I’ve never fought anyone. I take another step toward the door, but she blocks my way.
“Please. It won’t hurt you,” she says.
The girl darts her hand out and places a palm on my chest. Affronted by the invasion, I open my mouth to shout, but no words come out. I can’t move. She closes her eyes and my chest constricts as if she’s pulling my heart from behind my ribs, the strength of the pain almost convincing me she is.
My vision slips into muted greys; the buildings around shimmer in and out of reality. This isn’t the fog which follows from my nightmares; this is different. The sound of the world around fades and is replaced by a multitude of voices whispering words I can’t hear. I struggle to move against the invisible force holding me to this girl. Of everything around me, she is the most solid and as I stare, her dull face brightens and a renewed shine enters her green eyes. The pain in my chest is accompanied by an overwhelming sense of sadness, and I want to collapse to the floor and give in to the darkness.