by Casey, Ryan
He stood there. And for a few seconds, as his face turned redder and redder in the nightclub lights, Aoife wondered if he might just explode.
But then he puffed out his lips. Shook his head.
And then he barged past her.
“Your friends said you were a frigid nun who needs to get the hell over your ex.”
She heard those words, and they froze her, just for a moment.
“What—what did you just say?”
He looked around at her as he walked. Looked at her with utter disdain.
Then he disappeared out into the crowd, into the midst of the dancing bodies.
She stood there for a while, not totally sure how long. And she just kept on hearing what that guy, Harry, said to her.
Your friends said you were a frigid nun who needs to get the hell over your ex.
Why would they say that?
She looked around to where her flatmates were, with their friends. Saw them all peering over. Saw Kayleigh roll her eyes, mutter something to a blonde bimbo by her side. The way she nodded, rolled her eyes back.
And she knew what they were saying.
She could hear their conversation without having to actually hear it.
She knew they were picking holes in her relationship with Jason.
With her marriage.
But if they knew the truth, the whole truth about everything that’d happened and everything she’d been through, maybe they’d be a bit more sensitive.
“I’m out of here,” she muttered. She wasn’t sure whether it was drink. She didn’t know what it was.
But she was done trying to please these people.
She gulped down the rest of her cocktail, planted it on the bar, then walked past the mass of people towards the exit.
* * *
For just one split second, every light in the nightclub went out for a little longer than they should, then flickered back on again.
Nobody noticed.
Chapter Six
New Year’s Eve
23:55
Five Minutes Before the Event…
* * *
“Come on. Come on, now. No messing around. Out onto the streets. Take it easy. No need for any pushing.”
Max herded the people out of the nightclub and onto the streets for the big lights switch-on. At least, the ones who were still left in the club, anyway. There weren’t many now. The vast majority of people had flooded out an hour ago to watch the band, but naturally, there were a few stubborn gits in here.
And unfortunately for Max, those who remained were amongst the drunkest of the lot.
He’d listened to the band, and they were shit. Spent ages standing out here, teeth chattering, freezing his balls off. One of the other security guards, Malcolm, tried chatting to him a bit back. But he wasn’t really listening. Not really in the mood for chit-chat.
Hell. Was he ever?
Yeah, actually. Back when Kathryn was alive. Used to be quite talkative back then. Quite the life of the party.
But shit. That was a long, long time ago.
He thought about what that dickhead he’d not allowed in the club said earlier. About him spending New Year on his own. And there was something about those remarks that bothered him. That really got under his skin.
And as he ushered more and more people out of this nightclub and towards the big switch on, he wondered if maybe it’s because the guy had a point.
Maybe he was just taking his frustrations out on other people because of the things that happened to him.
He thought about Kathryn. Of David.
He thought about when he was working night shifts as a police officer.
Getting home and seeing all the blood.
Hearing the scream.
And seeing the look in those piercing blue eyes of the man standing over…
No.
He shook his head. Shivered. He didn’t want to think about that. Not right now.
He looked around. Saw the dorky guy with the glasses stumbling out. The kid he’d let in earlier, clearly underage. The guy looked worse for wear. And as much as this kid irritated Max, he found himself wanting to check on him. Make sure he was okay. Especially seeing as he didn’t seem to be with any friends.
“You okay, kid?”
The kid looked around at Max. Glared at him with drifting eyes. “Me? I…”
And then he vomited on the ground, right before Max’s feet.
Max sighed. He wanted to tell the kid to keep moving. But he felt a bit responsible. He was clearly underage. He’d let him in the club, and he’d got drunk.
But still. He was old enough to look after himself.
“Come on,” Max said. “Let’s get you in a taxi.”
He hailed a cab, clearly grateful for early business before the mad rush later. Helped the lad onto the back seat, much to the disapproval of the driver, who seemed panicked about just how sick this kid was.
“You’ll thank me for it later. Just don’t vomit on the driver’s seats or you’re on your own.”
He patted the side of the cab and watched it disappear down the road, then turned his attention to the stage.
He could see it, right there in the distance. Someone on stage with a microphone telling shitty jokes. And as he stood there and looked at all these people, it amazed him to see humanity back together again after the COVID pandemic. People coming together. Society functioning as it used to, once more.
And as much as he hated people… he got it. Really. They’d waited a long time for a good night out like this. A night out without rules or restrictions.
He wondered where he’d be right now if Kathryn were still here. If David were still here.
He swallowed a lump in his throat.
He had to stop with this sentimental shit.
Had to focus on his job.
The club behind him looked empty, but the lights were still flashing. The whole street was lit up, but nothing compared to what it would look like soon when the New Year’s lights came on, and the fireworks erupted. They’d made an extra big deal this year. Christmas Lights and New Year’s lights. Apparently, the council was worried about the whole thing overpowering the electricity boards and causing a power surge across town.
But hell. It was New Year. They’d get it fixed. Get it back online.
Anything to lift the spirits of Preston’s residents after a tough few years.
Obviously a load of crap as far as Max was concerned. Get your countdown done, do your fireworks if you absolutely have to, then get a bit drunker before collapsing in bed and cracking on with another miserable year ahead.
That was the reality.
He looked at the sea of people standing in front of the stage. Looked at the man standing on there, some budget celebrity from Burnley, apparently. A reality TV “star.” Clearly not much of a star because Max hadn’t heard of him. Wondered if anyone had. Or if anyone really even cared.
“Great, ain’t it?”
Max looked around. Saw Malcolm, his colleague, beside him. “What is?”
Malcolm stood there, smile on his face. Older chap. Grey. Annoying as hell, and never knew when to shut up. “Seeing ’em. Seeing ’em all enjoying themselves. It’s as if nothing ever happened with the COVID stuff. It’s as if things are normal again. And things are always gonna be normal, from this point on. Because people. People coming together. That’s what matters most, huh? That’s what matters more than anything.”
Max grunted. And then he turned his attention to the countdown, which was well underway now.
“Ten! Nine! Eight!”
He saw himself in Paris with Kathryn at New Year. One of the lucky ones to make it to the top of the Eiffel Tower that night, all via a raffle at work.
“Seven! Six! Five!”
He saw her laughing as he got on one knee.
“Four! Three!”
How gorgeous she looked when he proposed to her.
“Two!”
I do, Max. I do.<
br />
“One!”
David in her arms, the pride, the joy, the—
“Happy New Year!”
A flash.
A sudden bolt of light, brighter than Max expected.
And then darkness.
Chapter Seven
New Year’s Eve
23:56
Four Minutes Before the Event…
* * *
Aoife sat on the bus and wanted more than anything to just get back to the house.
Coming out with the girls was a mistake. A terrible mistake. They were bitching about her behind her back. Trying to set her up with that polo-necked creep at the bar, by the looks of things. She was done trying to please them at this point. At the end of the day, they were just younger than her. They didn’t have the same life experience as her.
And sure. Maybe she did look down on them a little bit, something she’d been in denial about until this point. But perhaps it wasn’t without good reason. At the end of the day, they were immature. And they’d proven their immaturity to her tonight.
She cursed herself for ever coming out tonight. She could’ve stayed at home and got another application or two done. What was the point getting all melodramatic about New Year, anyway? People treated it like it was some special event, some marker that everything was going to change. New Year, New Me. Resolutions. New habits, all to be dropped in a matter of weeks.
Well, she could play that game, but she was going to play it properly.
She was getting out of that flat share.
She was going to university.
She wasn’t going to keep on failing the way she’d failed the last few years.
She thought about her job as a solicitor. How it’d all fallen apart. The late nights. The stress. And the event that ultimately led to her walking away.
But really, she had been looking for an opportunity to get out for years. It was a well-paid job, of course. Very secure. Exactly the kind of job she should be proud of.
And she was proud of it. Proud that she’d managed to work her way so far to the top as a young woman.
But she didn’t feel like it was the path she wanted to go down, not really. There was a better path out there for her. There had to be.
And if there wasn’t, well, that was just a miserable thought she was going to have to live with.
She thought about Jason again. How good things had seemed.
But how much things fell apart.
The arguments.
The hysterics.
And eventually, the breakup, and all that prompted it.
She shook her head. Took a deep breath.
That was the past now. She didn’t have to worry about it anymore.
She looked around the bus. It was empty. Just her and the driver. It smelled a bit of urine on here. The windows were all dusty and steamed up. She could see people outside, all smiling, all having a laugh, and it was like she was looking at an exhibit of a life she used to live. Of a happiness she used to feel.
She turned away. She didn’t want to see that. She didn’t need any reminders.
She glanced at her watch. A couple of minutes to midnight. She knew the fireworks would all start soon. She could still hear the music from town, the vague notes of someone shouting down a megaphone. She could hear it all, and she wanted to get away from it. To stuff her headphones on and drown it all out.
She was independent. She could make it on her own.
She didn’t know why she was suddenly feeling so down about things. Best to just lift her chin up and power on like Dad always used to tell her when she suffered a setback.
She saw the bus indicating into the bus stop and noticed someone at the door.
She recognised him. Wasn’t sure where from, not at first.
But when he got on, her heart sank.
It was the guy from the nightclub. Harry.
“Single to Grimsargh, please.”
He turned around, wandered onto the bus, looking somewhat pissed off, and then his eyes met Aoife’s.
Don’t recognise me, don’t recognise me, don’t…
“Oh, hey. Fancy seeing you here.”
Suddenly, he didn’t look pissed off. His eyes lit up. Like he had something new to focus on.
Aoife looked away and didn’t say a word. Best to just ignore him.
He sat down, right in front of her. Leaned against the back of his seat, staring at her. He stunk of booze, and he had beer right down his shirt.
“You know, I’ve had a shitty night,” he said.
“I feel bad for you.”
“I’ve been barred from entering one place because the bouncer was a prick to my mate. I’ve been kicked out of another place for scrapping. And all the birds here… they’re all frigid as hell. But nothing’s pissed me off more than the way you spoke to me. Nothing.”
Aoife turned and looked at him. He was bigger than her and might think he was stronger than her. But she knew how to defend herself if need be.
“I’m sorry my words offended your almighty ego. It must really hurt, being rejected. You seem like you’re not used to hearing a few home truths.”
His face turned sour. His nose twitched. “You’re a bitch. You know that?”
“Hear you loud and clear.”
“You’re—you’re a nasty, ugly bitch. I only paid any attention to you because I felt sorry for you. Because of this boo-hoo nasty breakup of yours your friends told me about. Thought you looked alright behind the beer goggles. But you’re not alright. You’re ugly. And I can’t believe I ever gave you the time of day.”
“Then leave me alone,” Aoife said, on the verge of exploding with anger. “Leave me alone and go sit somewhere else. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of other girls out there for you to harass.”
He spat on Aoife. Right on her face, out of nowhere. A big blob of phlegm, drooling down her face.
She wiped it away, rage seething through her. “You—you disgusting piece of shit.”
Harry smiled at her. “That’s it. The real nasty girl coming out. That’s what I like to see—”
She swiped him with her nails. She knew she shouldn’t, but she did, and she did it hard.
So hard he was bleeding.
From his face.
And his right eye was all bloodshot.
“You bitch!” he shouted.
And in the moment of anger, of adrenaline, the pair of them didn’t even notice the fireworks.
He looked at her with total rage.
“You’ll pay for this. You’ll…”
She wasn’t sure if he said anything else.
Because all the lights on the bus went off.
The driver shouted something.
And the next thing Aoife knew, she heard a massive crash, and she hurtled out of her seat and into the darkness.
Chapter Eight
New Year’s Eve
23:57
Three Minutes Before the Event…
* * *
Cassandra Peterson didn’t think much about the palpitations in her chest as she ran down her street in the darkness.
She was always getting palpitations these days. A by-product of the anti-anxiety medication she was on, apparently. Ironic, really. Palpitations were a very real source of anxiety for sufferers. So a pill that gives people palpitations? What a cruel irony.
But she was getting better. She was beginning to ride them out, to heal.
And one of the key parts of her recovery was exercise.
She ran down the street. It was a quiet suburban neighbourhood, the kind where you never had to worry about any sort of trouble, any kind of crime. She preferred running at night because she felt like fewer eyes were on her. Sure, she knew what her doctor would say. Push yourself! Challenge yourself! Throw yourself into uncomfortable situations!
But Cassandra wasn’t ready for that step. And regardless, she did actually enjoy running late at night, as much as Mum and Dad always told her she was crazy for doing so.
But she guessed there had been a few changes. The pandemic, COVID-19. The isolation. The loneliness.
Moving back in with her parents was definitely a good idea. She always told herself she’d get back to normal and go see her friends again when it all eased. But that didn’t happen. Suddenly, she was afraid to do things she used to take so for granted.
And so began her long road to recovery.
She thought about how much better she was starting to feel lately, as one foot landed in front of the other. Thought about getting back to working from the office rather than from home. She thought about seeing her friends again. Going out. Drinking. Having a laugh.
And then she felt a flicker of sadness inside.
It was New Year’s Eve. A night she always used to be out, whether at a house party or in a crammed pub. She’d had a few invites to places, but she’d passed on them all.
Because she just didn’t feel up to it yet. She didn’t quite feel ready.
And moments like that, moments of defeat, they made her feel a little sad. A little defeated. Made her feel like she wasn’t making progress or was going backwards.
But then she took a few deep breaths.
Calmed herself.
She was okay.
She was on the road to recovery.
It wasn’t going to be instant. It wasn’t going to be overnight. But she was going to do this.
She went to turn a corner when she felt another twinge in her chest.
Her mouth went dry, just for a moment. Because this twinge, it felt stronger than a palpitation. Heavier.
She thought about the operation she’d had as a young kid. A rare heart defect requiring a pacemaker. But it’s the way she’d always been. She’d never had to think about it, not really. It’d never caused her any problems.