The heat and tremors firing off him and soaking into me are all indicative of psychotic Miller, yet the focus I need to appreciate that danger is being sucked up by unrelenting flashbacks – flashbacks I’ve managed to push to the back of my mind. I can’t now. This man has awakened them, brought them thundering forward. They make me grip my head with my hands, make me wince and shout in frustration. They won’t go. They’re attacking me, forcing me to witness a mental re-run of encounters from my past that I’ve wrestled to the dark, hidden place at the back of my mind for so long. Now they’ve been set free and nothing can stop them from charging forward. Memories are circulating repeatedly, burning into the back of my eyes. ‘No!’ I shout, my hands shifting to my hair and yanking, knocking the stranger’s grip from my strands.
I feel my body cave under the shock and distress, every muscle giving up on me, yet I don’t fold to the floor, and that is because the vice-like grip on my upper arm is holding me up. I’m numb to my surroundings, everything dark from my clenched eyes, everything silent from my mental lockdown. But that doesn’t rid me of my awareness to the ticking bomb holding on to me.
He’s gone from beside me in the blink of an eye, leaving me crumbling to the floor from my lack of support. My palms slap the hard ground, sending shock waves up my arms, and my hair tumbles around me. The sight of my golden tresses pooling in my lap makes me feel sick; it’s all I can see, so I throw my head up and choke on nothing when I face the stomach-turning sight of Miller in psychotic action. It’s all in slow motion, making every bloodcurdling collide of his fist to the guy’s face repulsively clear. He’s relentless, repeatedly striking his victim over and over, roaring his rage as he does. The music has stopped. People are screaming. But not one person steps forward to intervene.
I sob, wincing constantly as Miller continues to rain punches into the man’s face and body, spraying blood everywhere. There’s no fight in the poor guy. He isn’t being given any opportunity to fight back. He’s completely helpless.
‘Stop him!’ I scream, catching sight of Tony to the side, looking on with dread on his rough face. ‘Please, stop him.’ I drag myself from the floor with some determined effort. No one in their right mind would try to intervene. I painfully accept that, and when the focus of Miller’s rage collapses lifelessly to the floor and Miller still doesn’t relent, starting to kick him in the stomach, I succumb to my need to escape.
I can’t watch anymore.
I run away.
I’m sobbing as I fight my way through the crowds, my face stinging and swollen from my tears, not that anyone notices. Everyone’s attention is still on the mayhem behind me, the sick arseholes unable to tear their eyes away from the gruesome scene unfolding. I stagger and stumble, distraught and disorientated, to the entrance of Ice. Making it to the pavement outside, I cry gut-wrenching tears, my body shaking uncontrollably as I frantically search out a cab to take me away, but my opportunity to escape is lost when I’m grabbed from behind. It’s not Miller; I know that much. There are no fireworks or burning need rising within me.
‘Inside, Livy.’ Tony’s troubled voice sinks into my ears and I’m on the move with not a hope of fighting him off.
‘Tony, please,’ I beg. ‘Please, let me go.’
‘Not a fucking chance.’ He guides me to the stairs that lead down to the maze under Ice. I don’t understand. Tony hates me. Why would he want me to stay when Miller needs to focus on this world? A world that’s now all too clear.
‘I want to leave.’
‘You’re going nowhere, girl.’
I’m being pulled and pushed around corners, down corridors. ‘Why?’
The door to Miller’s office is opened and I’m pushed inside. I turn to face Tony, finding his stocky body heaving, his jaw tight. A finger comes up and points in my face, making me recoil slightly. ‘You’re not leaving, because when that maniac has finished beating that man to death, he’s gonna be asking for you. He’s gonna want to see you! And I’m not risking him going in for round two when he can’t find you, Livy! Stay where you fucking are!’ He walks out, slamming the door ferociously, leaving me standing in the middle of Miller’s office, eyes wide, heart thundering.
There’s still no music coming from the club above. I’m alone and useless in the bowels of Ice, with only stark silence and Miller’s stark office for company. ‘Arhhhhhhhhhhh!’ I scream in a delayed reaction to Tony’s tactic, my hands delving into my treacherous blonde and wrenching aimlessly, like I can pull the events of the past half hour from my head. ‘I hate you!’ My eyes wince shut from the physical pain I’m causing myself, the tears kicking in again. I don’t know how long I spend pointlessly wrestling with myself, it feels like eons, and it’s only physical exhaustion and a sore scalp that make me stop. I whimper as I turn in circles, my mind a riot, unwilling and unable to let any cognitive thought settle and calm me. It’s only the sight of Miller’s drinks cabinet that pulls the futile whirling of my body to a stop.
Alcohol.
I run over and clumsily pull a random bottle from the throng of others, sniffling and choking on my emotions as I unscrew the cap and tip it to my lips. The instant scald of the alcohol on my throat works wonders at burning away the focus of my thoughts, leaving me gasping and wincing at the discomfort and potent taste.