This is in Zelda POV. It takes place after she leaves Bloor's, somewhere near the beginning of the fourth book.
Obviously I don't own Charlie Bone, because if I did, Zelda would still be in the story.
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Promise me you'll never forget me, because if I thought you would I'd never leave.
-A.A. Milne
***
I hope you never see me this way
Hoped so hard I'd never fall away
From you my love
I'm broken without you
We've always been running
Towards each other—
Can't you see?
Now it's time to run away.
As soon as I entered the club I was out of my element. It was a whirling fusion of blindingly Technicolor lights and loud music, of sweaty bodies pressed tight against one another, delighting in the simple pleasure of human sensation, of the sound of heavy footfalls dancing, forever echoing like a hypnotic, pulsating heartbeat—alive, alive, alive! I almost fled back out to the grey slate sky and silvery sharp winds, utterly complicated yet wholly sane. No, I wanted to forget those things; I wanted to forget everything. I caught the scent of alcohol on the stagnant air and almost sighed in relief. I had my escape, only as long as I stayed in this horrible place for a while.
I sauntered up to the bar, shuddering from the pain of brief contact that came when I brushed against someone else, and asked for a beer. I drank it haltingly, taking stiff, hesitant little sips, letting my teeth chatter against the neck of the cold glass bottle. It was sour and awful, nothing like the red wine I was used to, but I closed my eyes when the release came, starting as a faint buzzing in the tip-top of my head and coursing down hastily to fill me. I drank my second and third faster, knocking them back like I'd been doing it all my life. At least I'd inherited something from my Daddy.
I ventured out onto the dance floor, the room swaying a bit as I fought to stay standing. I couldn't, and pitched forward, reacting in surprise as my fall was broken by a … boy. No, a man. He was tall, but not so tall… dark hair, but not dark enough… different bluish-grayish eyes that were all wrong. A single- other- night flashed through me, his lips on mine ebony fire eyes… my heart stabbed with regret. I didn't… I did… I didn't. I would never miss him. I would I could forget. I lifted my head to meet the boy- man's- gaze, my hands reaching ever so slightly to wrap round his neck. He responded as I'd hoped he would, his hands slipping around my waist to pull me closer. He leaned down toward me, his whisper permeating my thick curtain of black hair:
What's your name, darling?
My stomach recoiled and I forced myself to look at him. He smelled of beer and cigarettes and everything Daddy had been and everything Manfred was not. I noted with an inward grimace that every other girl on the dance floor was staring daggers at us. He wouldn't be kind to me, I knew. But at this moment all I needed was closeness, someone to hold me through the night and sleight away all of the pain.
D-d'you need something?
"You." Did I really just say that? Yes. I ground my hips slightly against his to make my intentions clear. Did I really just do that? Yes again. And I was glad.
The boy- man- smirked, clearly pleased. I could read him like a book; his eyes were full of lust, eager for an easy shag. I can deliver. Right this way… did you tell me your name?
I shook my head no. I wasn't afraid at all, only rather empty.
Well?
"Zelda."
He grinned again, then took my hand and dragged me down into the abyss.
***
I woke to the sound of the five-o-clock cathedral bells tolling, wrapped tight in someone's arms. My heart lept in my chest with some impossible hope—but no, I was sober now. The memory of last night came flooding back
Kissing me, pulling at my hair, making me vulnerable… my dress slashed off… pushing me down onto someone else's bed… taking me hard and fast and bruising… succumbing to that irresistible elixir as I forgot forgot forgotforgotforgot
Tears seeped from under my eyelids, soaking my eyelashes and pooling on my cheeks. I shoved my face into the pillow, emitting little whimpers of pain as I let myself cry. My ribs jutted out harshly as I gasped for a breath. It would never stop hurting, would it?
I roughly wiped my tears away and sat up. Uhhhhhh… God, I felt awful. I shuddered rather drunkenly as the outrage of the headache hit me. Headaches were the worst. It wasn't only the high, pitching pain I had to endure for days at a time; it was the weakening of my powers. To be able to forget, though only for a while, I would gladly pay the price. Stumbling out of the bed, I found my short black dress lying crumpled in a corner and pulled it on. I stepped into my shoes and turned to go.
"Wh- are y- leaving so soon, darling?" I glanced back at my hapless lover. He was looking at me with his disgusting bluish eyes, rather resembling a small boy with his brownish hair all sticking up in tufts around his head. I could tell that he was still (very) hung-over. He was such a nonentity; everything about him could easily be described with a mundane adjective followed by the word "ish". I knew that many girls would have paid to have the night I'd had, but I was… well, different. At least there was no one else but myself to remind me of that fact now.
"I didn't find what I was looking for. Goodbye," I fixed him with a look of disdain before stalking out , leaving me cold and alone, just me and the hard cement, back how I liked it. I wouldn't be doing that again. I felt torn and ragged, fraying a bit round the edges. I caught my reflection in a darkened shop window, and almost jumped back in shock.
My face was pale and pointy, with hollow cheeks and dark circles under my green eyes- caused more by smudges of melted mascara than by lack of sleep. My hair was wild, tendrils sprouting from my head every which way to slither into matted curls down my back. I didn't look like myself, not like myself at all. As this thought crept through me, my heart pounded with a deep sense of shame and betrayal, and I knew what I looked like- no, what I was. I had become what I had scorned other girls for being- a slut. The irony of it almost made me laugh, but it required too much effort. I turned away from my reflection and clenched my fists, staring in mute incense at the heightened chrome horizon.
I turned and ran, stepping lightly over the cobbles, back to Darkly Wynd. We had always been runners, Manfred and I.
I had run more than seven blocks before I realized that the man I'd just spent the night with had never told me his name.
***
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