Flashing lights and pumping bodies, laughter, screaming in excitement people danced and ground and wiggled in the bar dance floor, the bass beating hard against the walls and ceiling, scraping against the few windows and reaching the bar behind me. I wove my way through the crowd, spinning my feet, breath light, the world spinning before my eyes, lights of blue, green, red, and purple flashing through my eyelids, I was thankful for my mascara. They acted as blinds to the bright flashing colors. I was at the table, a pad and pen in my hand and a pulled tight smile on my lips. I'd worked at a restaurant before but a bar was something new, so when two faces of men stared back at me disapproving but ogling me at the same time I was slightly surprised. I didn't have a name tag, and I was given the apron of the girl that was ending her shift, no doubt my grey pants and grey everything is calling some negative attention, the light contrasting with the dark bodies behind me.
My tongue swiped my lips and I pushed the laughter and the loud music to the back of my mind, bringing forth a white area for me to breach, "Hi, my name is Tris, I'll be your waitress for the night, can I get any drinks for you, gentlemen?" One of them, the dark haired man with serpentine eyes leans forward, tapping his nails on the black table, "Yeah can I get a Modelo Negro?"
"Glass or bottle?" I asked him, writing it down on tab,
"Bottle is fine," He replied,
"Great," I nod to him, speaking a bit louder before looking at the strawberry haired man next to him, who seems to be staring at me a bit too hard for him to be sober, then he grins at me in a way that makes me uncomfortable and says, "I'll have a Jager bomb," I nod to him and write it down, "Would you like to get anything to eat while you're here or just the drinks?" I ask them, my eyes flicking back and forth between the two as they exchange looks, then the dark haired man shakes his head, "Just the drinks, could you open a tab?"
"Yes, under what name?"
"Peter," He says, eyeing me as I write it down, my wrist flicking easily to accommodate my style. I take one last glance to them, smiling and nodding before walking around to each of the tables toward the bar, watching as a woman in a short black dress steals the "cage" or so they call it, in the center of the floor, her hands gripping the steel bars before her as her body shakes and sways, her hips doing things she ought not to be doing in public, but she might be drunk, who am I to care, it's not me up there. Trying to avoid flying elbows or getting stepped on again, I wriggle to the bar, where Uriah is finishing up serving a man who asked for a top shelf drink. I wait for Uriah to finish before walking around behind the counter and creating an order for Peter. Uriah shoots me a smirk as he leans in close, his hand landing on my hip and his nose brushing my jaw, "You're doing great girl, keep it up," I smile at him and nod, popping open the Modelo and letting Uriah pass me the shot of Jager. I then list of a few refill drinks that people asked me to get for them in my journey back to the bar, and he complies, flipping the shaker and twirling glasses, garnishing some and even slathering honey on the rim of one glass.
The night continues as such, me making trips back and forth to the bar and tables, checking up on people at the tables every 5 minutes. Quickly though, after it gets wilder and into the later hours of the bar, Peter and his friend haven't left yet, and they keep ordering drinks. Their tab will be a bitch to pay. Eventually, around 1 they end up leaving, and splitting the bill, which was fine with me but I didn't know how they'd get safely home. It wasn't my business, anyway, so it shouldn't matter. I know there's a cut off for drink service if you don't drink responsibly, but I wasn't told what it is.
Uriah finds me again, behind the glowing bar and serving a few beers from tap and supplying waters to those who look like they really need it. He looked tired, even with his dark skin I could see the bags under his eyes and the weariness in his steps. He came to a halt beside me, grabbing a cloth from the sink in front of him and wiping down the counter, "So, whatcha think?"
"Of what? This?" I ask, gesturing to the still raving dance floor, girls now sharing the "cage" and performing rather erotic dances together and on each other, their dresses riding up and their hair flipping as they jump and run their hands back through the blonde locks. Uriah takes one look at what they're doing before grinning and looking at my face again, his smile only widening. He nods to me, awaiting my words of praise, "Well, it keeps me on my toes,"
"Way different from retail I bet?" He asks me, reaching around my small body to fill up a pop for a woman at the bar, I nod and lean away from him, slightly uncomfortable with being trapped between him and a counter, when he is easily a few inches taller than I. Then I speak to ease my nerves as his hand brushes my shoulder, "I said it kept me busy, I didn't say it was any less crazy. There are some serious psycho bitch moms out there," Uriah chuckles low in my ear, and I nearly recoil when he brushes his lips to my ear, "I'd love to grab a table and chat about it Tris," My breath halts in my throat, he's really openly flirting with me, in a bar, and offering to grab a table. My mind snapped, and discomfort invaded my body, making me speak in a strange manner that I haven't used as a defense, "While I'm sure you'd enjoy that, I wouldn't just yet, perhaps you should work on your introductory skills, and try more subtle moves next time," My lips pull into a tight smile and I'm walking away from the bar and to a girl who is waving at me, grabbing my attention.
Thankfully, the night continued without any other uncomfortable occurrences, and the floor cleared out around 2:30. My feet felt numb but awake and every step I took was like stepping on a bed of nails, my legs were tight and sore and burning and my head throbbed with a dull headache, I was mildly aware that my hair was a hot mess of frizz and loose locks, and that I must have looked tired. Uriah wasn't at the bar when I checked in, instead it was my boss, who still made me feel warm but now I was more cautious of how I acted around him.
I watched as his eyes gave me a once over and a small smirk pulled at his lips, his brows knitting a bit before he spoke to me, his hands switching off the changing lights to the bar, "Tired yet?"
"You kidding me? I could do this all day," I mutter sarcastically, closing tabs and swiping a few cards before feeling my eyes widen as he chuckles at me. My teeth find my lip at the deep rumbling sound, and what he was laughing at, I said the wrong thing, to my boss, out of all people. I felt like slamming my head against the screen before me because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. I really need this job. I shot a wary glance at him, watching as he cleans the bar in front of him, a smirk on his face and his eyes on the task at hand. Then he replies, "Well that's interesting that you say that, Tris," My body grew warm as he said my name, and it was something about the way he said it as he looked at me, his eyes an amused blue, "This place doesn't typically stay open during daylight hours,"
"I know," I manage with a nod, trying to find something else to say when seconds before I scolded myself for speaking, my fingers gripping the debit card in my hands a bit firmer as I swiped it. "That tired huh?" He asks more soberly, I shoot him a look and type in on screen the command for paying and the amount owed. I didn't hear him move, and that might be because of the lower music still playing as the DJ brings the night to an end at 3 am, but suddenly Four is right behind me and typing in something to the screen in front of me. His arm reaching over mine and his fingers brushing my wrist before he quickly signs me out for the night. He must have established me a position earlier tonight. My eyes widened as I replayed that thought, and it made me turn and look at him.
He was dangerously close to me, but not yet touching me, just enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body to me and his soft flutters of breath on my shoulder. I drew in a breath and held it before asking him, "Did I- did you just… I got the job?" I nearly whisper, which I'm amazed he heard me from considering how loud the music still was even though it was lowered. He smiled at me and took a step back from me, holding his hand out to me for a formal handshake, my nerves shot up to my grey matter and I resisted the urge to jump up and down in excitement, quickly and in a jerky manner that I was partially shameful of, I held my hand out and shook his. Nodding to him and smiling, relief flooding through my bloodstream as he spoke, "Congratulations Tris, you got the position of in training bartender and waitress, welcome to The Guilty Mutt," It's when he nearly finishes speaking that I giggle gleefully and wrap my arms around his torso, squeezing him tight enough that he needs to squeeze my shoulder a bit and flex so I don't hurt him. It's when he does however do I realize that I'm hugging him, and I pull back quickly, grinning shyly and happily, "Thank you, sorry for hugging you, but thank you so much Four, you have no idea how much this means to me right now,"
"Well, you can make up for hugging me like that by showing up tomorrow to get your paperwork all through, and then I could set you up with a schedule," He tells me, holding a smile as well while he speaks, his eyes watching my reaction to every word,
"Yes, I will see you then," I say, about to turn before I stop myself, "Uhm, what time do you need me to be here?"
"Well, you don't have to be here specifically since you won't be working tomorrow, I could bring the paperwork somewhere else, it's not exactly fun going to your workplace when you don't have to work," he tells me, pausing and giving me time to process that before gives me a reasonable time, "10:30 good for you?"
"Yes, that's perfect," I say quickly, digging my nails into the palms of my hands to keep me from doing something weird or hugging him again. I take a breath, closing my eyes and smiling at him again, "Thank you, really so much Four,"
"Thank yourself, you got this job, not me," He says softly, touching my shoulder before looking me up and down again, eyes flicking over my shoulders and posture to my tired smiling face, "Get some rest, Tris," His voice is still soft, and the depth of it makes it a bit hard to hear, but I nod to him anyway and check for my belongings after I hang the apron in the locker room for the staff.
The cool air of the darkest and quietest hour rushes up my fingertips and arms, settling down my spine and back up to the base of my skull, making my hairs stand on end. I mutter to myself under my breath, scolding myself for not bringing a jacket as bumps rise on the surface of my skin. My eyes glance around the parking lot, catching sight of a man smoking a cigarette and a few lingering cars that must belong to the DJ, Four, the bouncer and the few people lingering in the closing bar. My hands reach back into my pocket and I fumble for my keys, my breath coming out in quickly fading puffs of white and my fingers trembling in the cold, pin pricks stabbing hot and cold into my skin. My key is just pushing into the lock when I'm ripped off my feet.
Searing hot breaches my body as a hand covers my mouth, rough and calloused as I scream through the fingers. Panic shoots through me and I squirm, jerking and grabbing at the face panting in my ear. My eyes widen before I blink some, kicking and struggling as I'm ripped off the ground again, unable to drag myself. I'm swinging fists and kicking hard when another person cloaked in black restrains my legs, fear and discomfort raging through me making me scream as loud as possible through his hand.
My teeth go to bite but then I'm dropped to the ground and I taste blood on my tongue, I scramble, then I see stars and my chest hits the ground. Blood dips past my lips and I feel oddly light, my arms are pulled and I'm being thrown into a van but the world spins and I can't figure out which way is up. Thoughts rush through me and sound comes back as doors are slammed and my wrists are restrained, suddenly I'm back in the real world and my head feels like I've been hit by a titanium bat. A sound dribbles out of me and I fall over from my all fours position as the van peels out of the lot, tires screeching and music playing. I tumble as we turn, my lips parting to scream as my back hits something hard and sharp but the hand is back, and there's another on my throat.
Serpentine green eyes catch my vision and horror washes over me as I struggle, the air being robbed of my lungs as his fingers close down on my windpipe, my fists swing in a wide arc and slam into his head. He grunts and I try to get to my feet, screaming in fury and in pain the entirety of the time while someone else yells to restrain me. I'm tacked back despite me trying to dodge, my limbs refusing to work with me as he moves on top of me. I see red and I feel only pain right then, my head exploding as though a bullet has ripped right through it, a jack hammer slamming constantly into the back of my head.
I hear screaming and feel only pain, and it rips along my body like nothing else, intense heat floods my nerve endings and something yells, something pops, there's a lot of noise and suddenly the car is spinning. I'm thrown into the wall again but it's different, tears rush out of my squeezed shut eyes but I'm vaguely aware that I'm crying, we spin, my restrains snap, glass shatters and the van swerves off the road. All I taste is blood as we slam into a tree and two men are killed.
Warmth covers my skin, draped gently over me like a blanket and silk sheets to add comfort, whatever I'm on is soft, and it lets me sink into it no matter what, cushioning me as I roll onto my back then to my other side. A gentle steady heat hits my face and my skin then, and stays there, making me hotter than I'd like and suddenly I'm sitting up and my eyes are squinting in the sunlight. My hand lifts and shields my eyes as I turn and place my feet to the ground, my lips split and chapped, and the room smelling different. My feet meet carpet, and then I become aware that I'm not where I think I am.
My eyes widen and my hand drops, there's a door, well, two doors and both are closed. Rather than the dull and soft blue grey paint of my apartment walls, a pleasant tan color covers the walls, and the doors are a slightly darker color. The floor is white carpet, and the bed I'm on has golden sheets, or seemingly a milky tan color. Did I sleep with someone? sliding my fingers along my skin I realize I'm only in my underclothes, or, someone's underclothes, I don't remember buying boy shorts, or ever wearing a big t-shirt to bed.
The silence of the room hits me like a brick, and I'm suddenly up on my feet. Bad idea, I stumble and fall to the floor, my hand gripping the bed and my breath huffing in pants. Okay, no walking. Wriggling my toes and rotating my ankles I try again, much success this time as I pad slowly to the door I think leads to a hallway, I'm pleasantly surprised to find I was right, and I walk slowly out toward what looks to be a kitchen. A living room breaks to my left, and a large brown L shaped couch faces a coffee table and a TV. My toes touch tile and I stop, pulling back a bit, the floor is a bleach white tile with marbled gold, and the counters are like tigers eye stone. A slip of paper catches my eye, and neat handwriting is revealed to me, I read it aloud to test my voice, "Make yourself at home, your keys are on the hook by the door, but I'd appreciate if you didn't leave until I get back, so no one robs me. I'll be bringing back food if you're hungry, don't get into trouble."
My body weaves around the corner, the comatose like cold air seeping into my skin and making me shiver as I reach for the cup board, guessing and searching for the glasses. The tile beneath me freezing the pads of my feet as I struggle on my toes to reach for the quarter cups. Keys jingling pulls my attention as I pull the glass down, my eyes widening before narrowing at the door, watching as the handle jerks before the door cracks open, boots hustle in quietly, hitting the tiled area at the door as the cold of the morning city air rushes into the house. Smells of wet pavement and hot asphalt reaching me before the smell of gasoline and something musky that blocks out the other smells.
The figure turns his back to me, and he's tall, but he's wearing a hood so I can't see what he looks like. His boots are off and the house door shuts, then he turns and I'm met with the face of my boss, Four, and dread washes over me. Oh, God, tell me I didn't sleep with him last night, please tell me I didn't do it. My teeth sink down on my lip as he approaches, his steps silent and strides long as he reaches me in the kitchen, standing there in socks, jeans, and a black hoodie. His hand reaches up and dispels the hood, and he's smirking at me. My fingers twitch as I catch him looking up my legs and to my face, my grip tightening on the glass in my hand ever so slightly as the thought of us in his bed hits me. I don't even know him well enough to picture that in my head, surely he wouldn't have let it happen, right?
My throat clears and I blink, turning away from him as he places the bag he was holding on the counter, and a cup of coffee. He's the one to break my silence, "I didn't know what you liked so I got you a danish from the shop not to far from here, and a cup of coffee,"
"We didn't.. I mean," I stutter, setting the glass down and turning towards him, the small of my back pressing to the counter. His eyes are curious, and his brows lift slightly, prompting me to continue. I take a breath, lungs filling with air before I mutter out, "Did we, you know, uhm,"
"What? No," Four tells me, chuckling at my flushed face and how bad I was stuttering. Unease washed over me suddenly at the look he gives me, eyes slightly narrowed and less friendly than what they were a few seconds before, the dark blue darker and his pupils dilating before he sighs and smiles at me again. My heart rate picked up and now I want nothing more than to get away from him, that look was one of pain and anger. He tilts his head, "Why don't you have a seat, we can talk, and since you're here you can fill out your papers," Modesty flashed through me like a hot needle, and shame and embarrassment colored my cheeks and skin. I wasn't even dress appropriately, I was in his clothes, unshowered and incoherent to what had happened exactly last night. If I didn't have any of that in check, how could I possibly fill out the papers in front of my boss? Frustration became my next go to, and I resisted the urge to make one of my famous outbursts in front of him as he sat idly on his couch, awaiting my presence.
I decide not to question him until I'm done with my paperwork instead, giving me some time to think about what all I want to ask. If we didn't sleep together, where are my clothes, and why am I in his house, sleeping in his bed? My hand shaking the entire time I write, making my numbers and letters morph into squiggles and my signature look messy. An hour after struggling with my pen and finishing each page carefully, Four sets them aside, his face going blank and his lips pulling into a natural frown, his eyes narrowing at me and his brows furrowing the slightest, "I suppose you're wondering how you got here?"
"Depends if you have the answer to that question," I shoot at him, my defenses polishing my skin, sharpening my mind and my tongue becoming quicker than a whip. It's in these situations that I want to curse my sometimes violent nature and over defensive mind. He smirks at me, my feistiness intriguing him. He leans back, "You had a rough trial night, a full shift and you were ready to pass out, I didn't trust you'd get home safely so I hooked up your car to my truck and took you here,"
"Where are my clothes?"
"You dropped a bottle of alcohol on them, told me you didn't want them,"
"You threw my clothes away? All of them?" I ask in disbelief, none of this seems like some of my behavior, no matter how tired I may have been. My eyes cast down to the coffee in my hands, the warm liquid filling the cup half way, still warming my hands. While his explanation explained my slight headache, it did not cover for how I acted, or why I don't remember much of it. My teeth find my lip for the millionth time as I try to piece together what flashes of last night I do remember. I remember trying to get to my car, and someone else being there. Was that Four? An uneasy feeling makes my head suddenly go light and my stomach to roll up to my lungs, my breath catches and I know something's wrong. His story makes sense, but it doesn't, that isn't me, I've always been strong enough to get home after a long day, so blacking out and having someone else- suddenly I'm on my feet and the coffee cup is falling from my grasp, images of last night clouding my thoughts.
My lips part and sounds escape me as I try to deny everything he's said, I don't know how but suddenly I'm on the floor shaking and Four is right beside me, calling my name and telling me to come back. I was abducted, I was ripped from my car and tossed into a van, two men, I served them, they did it. I was restrained, and then, then… what happened? My breath passes my lips in shaky stutters and my eyes land on his TV, "Turn it on,"
"What?"
"Turn on the TV!" I bark out, shaking and staring at it, please tell me my thoughts aren't correct, "Please," I beg him, flicking my eyes to his concerned but concentrated expression, to his eyes that seem to hold volumes of words and emotions unspoken. The TV is turned on, and he begins navigating, "To the local news," I tell him, and he dials in the channel number, the image of a woman standing on the side of the road with long black hair next to a police officer comes up, and slowly Four turns the volume up, "... Been a terrible accident here off Charles road, unlike anything we've ever seen, paramedics were called earlier this morning when the van was discovered nearly wrapped around this tree," she says, turning and pointing at it as the camera zooms in, "The emergency services were contacted, and the engine fire was contained, however, the paramedics pulled two bodies, one of which is Peter Hayes, a local college student and the older brother of two sisters, the other body has yet to be identified. I'm standing here with Officer Rheys who was one of the first to get to the site. Officer Rheys, you said earlier that you think this was an intentional wreck, did you mean that it could have been caused by another missing component and killed these two people?" She tilts the microphone towards him so that he may speak, and he does, keeping eye contact with the camera,
"Yes, brief investigation shows that these two had very little alcohol traces in them, not enough to cause an accident like this. Skid marks and dents have not been from an outside source so there was likely another person in the van that put these two in a life or death situation, and caused them to crash in such a way. A third body has not been found, but there are traces that tell there was another person involved," The camera sweeps over the accident again, the area in which the bodies were found, and a dark blood splatter on the tree and on the road by the van, something rippled through me and made me want to cry, I was right. I was at fault for the loss of those two lives, but they had kidnapped me. My body shook as I got to my feet, grabbing the attention of Four who left on the channel and followed me to the sink in the kitchen, my hand coming up to my eyes and rubbing them as my head pounded harder as I drew in a breath.
It was me, I was there, I was the cause of the accident, I knew that much, but how had I killed them both? How did I manage to make the van crash like that? A hand touched my arm and I jerked, spinning and grabbing the wrist, digging my nails into the soft flesh and glaring at the person it belonged to, "Don't touch me, please I just," I released him and put a few steps of distance between us, "Something happened to me last night, and I don't, the van, I was in that accident I know it, I caused it somehow, and I, they tried to-"
"I know, Tris, calm down,"
"You know? So you lied to me? Oh my God, two people are dead because of me! How could you not tell me that?" Panic seared into my veins and my lungs hauled in shallow bursts of air, my eyes growing wide as he got a strange look on his face and took a step toward me, "That's all you remember?" He asks me, his voice a deadly tone, "You don't remember tasting them? Ripping them apart?"
"W-what?"
"That's what you did you know, a car crash doesn't rip a man's arm off and claw his face up, doesn't rip out the neck of another," My back hit the wall and horror washed over me, I was going to be sick, what was he talking about? Was Four mental or something? "I don't-"
"You killed those two people Tris, you were attacked,"
"No, No I didn't mean to hurt anyone," I pleaded, "I wasn't anything,"
"They abducted you from the parking lot with the intention of rape and ransome-"
"Stop it!" I screamed at him, but suddenly his body was trapping me between him and the wall and he had a strange look in his eye, one that said he was afraid, but serious, "You became a wild dog Tris," He hissed in my ear, "And you had a feast out of them for revenge,"
"I said stop!" I yelled, he grunted and crashed to the floor, had I shoved him? I didn't know, but I was running for the door, grasping my keys, fumbling for the handle. I had to get away from him, he was sick, and making me disgusted with myself, my body hyperventilating and trembling, "No! Tris!" I flung the door open, and ran out barefoot into a world that backhanded me like nothing else, and pain rushed through my skull.