Late Night

I stared aimlessly at the reflection in the mirror. I leaned toward the glass and took in my reddish brown hair, that seemed auburn to others. My grey eyes averted to my lips as I softly hummed over the music that played in the den. I rested my hand on my stomach and turned to my side. Analyzing my outfit, I shrugged my shoulders. It will have to do.
As I shuffled out of my square bedroom, I grasped the black scarf hanging from the hook near the door. My high boots clicked against the wooden floor of the penthouse. As I walked into the shared lounge room, I noticed my flat mate.

"Oh," I stopped and turned toward her, "you're home."

My flatmate, Parka Williams seemed to have a grand social life - always out, never home. I sometimes forgot about her as she was rarely around.
Parka lifted her head and I noticed the smeared lipstick and the eyeliner clouding her eyelids.

"You okay, hun?" I wondered frowning a bit.

"I feel fantastic," Parka sang and shifted herself in the leather chair.

"Lovely," I nodded and smiled. I stood there awkwardly for a moment before speaking to her once more. "I made dinner - steak and salad," I informed her, nodding my head in the fridge‘s direction.

"Where are you off to?" Parka wondered causing me to glance back at her.

"Shopping," I smiled.

"Are you.." Parka leaned forward in her seat and I could view her cleavage from where I stood, "still dating that fella?"

I furrowed my brow. Harrison? We dated last spring, and unfortunately it ended dreadfully with me in my pyjamas crying my eyes out with a tub of ice-cream - cliché, I know. How could she have not have noticed? I mean, how could you ignore a blubbering mess on your couch for a whole week and a half?

"Uh," I pursed my lips, "no.”

I turned quickly and shuffled towards the doorway.
Walking out into London's cold night air, I wrapped the scarf around my neck. I walked against the cobble stone, keeping my head down. Everyone in this town was as icy and as bitter as the wind that blew through it. They kept themselves to themselves.

A few streets away I could see the shopping store that I had intended to go to. Thank goodness for twenty-four hour shops. They were my saviours. I grasped my smart phone and began to check my emails from my co-workers. At the age of twenty-five, I was content in being a teacher to lovely six year olds and it brought me happiness to know of theirs.
Replying to texts and missed emails, I had not noticed the rushing of footsteps toward me.

I felt gentle hands tugging on my red duffle coat, and I reflexively glanced down to view a familiar, smiling face, peering up at me.

"Hi Ms. Dean," and I lowered myself to meet her gaze and I hugged the little girl back.
"What a pleasant surprise, Melissa!" I smiled. I took notice in Melissa’s father smiling from behind. I slightly furrowed my brow to see her out and about in the middle of the night.

"Enjoying the weekend?" I asked smoothing out the dark curls that framed her beautiful round face.
"Yes, I’m going to my mum’s," Melissa told me happily.

Her parents had recently divorced and Melissa, surprisingly took it well for a six year old.
"Well, have a lovely time. I will see you bright and early Monday morning," I giggled and tickled her neck as she giggled herself.

"Bye, Ms, Dean" Melissa waved and placed her palm in her father’s hand.
"Have a nice evening. Samuel," I nodded.

Samuel, with his handsome features smiled and nodded to me. I watched the pair go hand in hand, and turned my attention to the zebra-crossing.

The phone that I had placed idly in my hand began to ring. I glanced momentarily and sighed inwardly to see the screen inform me it was my mother calling me.
She too, was going through a divorce with my father and urged and wiggled herself into my life, like she did when I left for university.

"Hello. Mum," I said, answering.

"Hello, dear," Heather sighed, and it was one of her famous dramatic sighs.

"What's wrong?" I began. I wanted to get straight to the point.

"Your father insists on getting the boat," my mum raged, "I will take everything!"

My father, Henry Dean was a respected banker across town and decided he didn't love his wife anymore. He decided to move on and fall in love with a twenty-something-Barbie-girl with a plastic nose.
I was too taken aback by the whole situation to actually get the full details but honestly, who would want to?

"Please be calm in the matter. You don't want to be viewed as the mad-hatter," I held the urge to laugh at my own joke.

"Bullocks," Heather voice was nearly calm. "I shall find me a mid-life crisis as well".

Laughing, I shook my head. "Be civil and the court will-"

"Bloody hell - he's calling me."

I stepped onto the street, absently clutching the phone to my ear. "Mum-"

A scream caused my head to lift and the phone to pull away from my ear.
The scream, a female scream a little way away from me, was for me.

I had stepped onto the road unknowingly, without thinking.

I dropped my phone and dodged the on-coming traffic, at least I tried to.

The halting of breaks screeched in my ears and I felt the impact of the bumper colliding into my legs. I flew deeper into the main road.
My face planted into the tarmac and I felt the blood rushing down my head. I could taste the copper tang of my own blood. My shoulder was twisted in an awkward way.

I couldn't feel anything. I was conscious of the screams and halting cars but I couldn't feel. But the car that hit me, had made it’s getaway. The cowardly bastard, couldn’t even face his own mistakes.
I waited patiently for the feeling of my limbs to return to me.

A warm hand grazed my shoulder and I was flipped on to my back. My vision blurred and all I could see was the light seeping out of my sight.

All of my surroundings were pitched into darkness.

The rush of pain scourged through me and I was aware of my own screaming.
No, I wished for the pain to go away. It was worse than feeling nothing.

I wanted the light and numbness to return.



I didn't care.

I wasn't concerned about the alcohol burning down my throat or about the filthy bar stool I placed my backside on.
I just wanted a good time.
Even if I was alone on a Saturday night. I didn't want Friday night to be over so, I never stopped.
I grinned and my lips touched the beer bottle. I placed a shaky hand on my ruffled dark hair absently and began to down the liquid.

The sound of people playing at the pool table behind me, was music to my ears. I could play them chaps and beat them embarrassingly in a game of pool then take their money. Possibly, I could go ’round the corner and get some happy medicine..

I just had to finish this beer I was about to order.

"Another, please," I smiled at the grumpy bartender and placed a bill onto the counter. Whatever happened to the stereotypical charming Irish bartenders? I couldn’t find any in the many pubs I’ve been to in Kilkenny. I, of course, oozed Irish charm, well, I had a rugged charm… sort of.
"Keep the change," I told him as he handed me the icy bottle of alcohol.

I sat and chugged my beer. It tasted bitter against my tongue but I insisted the drink to flow down.
Maybe I was an alcoholic?

At the age of twenty-two? No, certainly not. I just wanted to have fun. I held a job, a shitty job but a paying job. My parents hassled me every living day, but I was no doctor like my bother Joseph, they can stick that right where the sun don‘t shine. And, if they thought that was bad, they should see what I had as a side-job.

I rubbed my lips with the back of my palm.

"Another one?" The barman asked, grunting and I danced a finger at him.

"No, sir," I informed and I placed my hands on the counter.

A couple of brawn, bald lads marched towards me, I pretended to ignore them, but they spun me ‘round my stool to face them. My green eyes gazed at them nonchalantly as they stared down hard at me.

“Did you get the boss’ cash?” the taller one grunted.
“Don’t worry lads, I’ve got the dosh,” I said, fishing for the notes in my pocket. They crossed their arms in sync when I was taking more time than necessary.
“It’s just…” I started, “right…” I fished deeper, “here,” I said as I handed out a ten euro note.

They looked at me, then at each other.

“Is that all?!” Baldy Number One yelled.

“Well, when a man’s thirsty, he’s gotta drink,” I shrugged sheepishly. “And anyway, we don’t get a lot of buyers these days, they all get their shit from Damien.”

They inched forward and each took an arm of mine in their steel grip.

“Look,” I said, starting to panic, “I could get you what you need soon, even more if you want, just, don’t tell the boss.” I pleaded.

Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dee gazed at each other again.

Just as their glare returned to me, I had this intense feeling flood me. I lowered my head and felt as if I was going to... die.
I shouldn't of drunk that bottle of Daniels.

I gasped and lifted my head.

A brisk impact knocked me out of the stool I sat on. I landed face first against the dirty and disgusting floor.

"Bloody hell. This kid’s has a few," one of the Brawn Brothers chuckled.

I gasped once more as my shoulder was twisted weirdly above my head. I could taste blood and it was mine as it ran down my tanned temple. Maybe he’s right, maybe I have had too much. But, this has never happened before.

My vision blurred and I had no clue or what the hell was going on.

Did one of these assholes punch me?

If so, I must have been so pissed I didn’t even notice.

I screamed against the pain. It was so unbearable, it felt as though I was hit by a car.

My screams continued on, until the soaring of darkness knocked me unconscious.