r/writingfeedback

Chapter One

Perhaps because of the recent bad weather, perhaps because pay day was still a while away for many, or perhaps because there was no noteworthy football or rugby on that weekend, it was a relatively quiet Saturday night in the Cloud Nine bar on the corner between Main Street and Wellington Street. In contrast to many of the other pubs and clubs in the little town of Laalthwaite, Cloud Nine went for a vibe common with the more high end cocktail bars one would find in a big city: neon lighting, fake foliage suspended from the ceiling, and walls painted with murals depicting brightly coloured flowers and bumble bees. As a result, it was usually a popular night spot, and a quiet night like this was rare, but nevertheless the staff and few customers who were there took pleasure in the peace while it lasted.
Alice the bouncer was losing all of her spare change on the slot machine while periodically glancing up at the front door; two older gentlemen stood at the bar debating politics between sips of Guinness; and the two barmaids Heather and Emily were discussing next week’s rota and the excuses they had prepared to get out of the extra shifts the boss wanted them to do.
The front door swung open with a sudden loud bang, causing everyone to stop what they were doing and look up in surprise. Brad, a six-foot-five, athletic young man, entered the bar giving his girlfriend Skye a piggyback ride. Both were laughing with pure joy as Skye’s arms and legs were wrapped tightly around Brad, who at first crouched down so she wouldn’t hit her head on the door frame, but as they came through the door he stood upright so fast that Skye’s head almost touched the ceiling’s fake foliage.
“Settle down!” Alice commanded as she approached the doorway.
“We just got engaged, look!” Skye beamed, showing off her engagement ring.
“Even so, carry on like that and you’ll have to leave,” Alice replied sternly.
“Ugh, fine,” Brad huffed as he carefully set the still giggling Skye onto her feet, “but I don’t know why you’re bothered. We’ve been in two other pubs and they were okay with us.”
“What are you two doing? It’s freezing out here!” one of Brad and Skye’s friends shouted from outside, “Are we all coming in or what?”
Alice narrowed her eyes, said, “Alright, but you all behave yourselves,” and returned to the slot machine. Brad and Skye then gestured for their friends to come in, a group of ten, many of whom were already very drunk, and ended up filling three empty tables. As Heather and Emily prepared to take the group’s order, the two old men turned away and resumed their conversation as best they could now that the bar had become significantly louder and once again bustled with activity.
Skye sat on Brad’s lap and hugged him, while Brad shuffled in his chair to make room for her, before putting his arm around her waist. At their table were Raquel and her boyfriend Charlie, as well as Owen, who had spent most of the evening quietly checking his phone, puffing on his vape pen and not paying much attention to anyone.
“So when are you two lovebirds planning your wedding?” Raquel asked.
“We haven’t set an exact date, but…” Brad began, but Skye cut in and excitedly declared “This year, within the next month or so!”
Brad tried to say “Hang on, what?” but Skye spoke over him again and continued, “Then once we’re married there’s this huge five bedroom house on the Aufington Estate outside of town I want to buy, it’ll be the perfect place to start our family! Won’t it, babe?”
“Err, yeah, yeah I suppose,” Brad shrugged, “how much is this house?”
“Well I didn’t notice the price, I mostly just looked at the photos on the website and thought it looked perfect. Oh but by the way Brad, should we start trying for a baby before or after the wedding? I was thinking before.”
“She doesn’t wait around, does she?” Charlie laughed, “and you haven’t been together all that long, have you?”
Skye’s joyous smile immediately disappeared, replaced with a look of scornful disgust.
“Excuse me?” she said in a low and malicious tone.
“He didn’t mean anything bad by that love,” Raquel stepped in, “but weddings and houses do take a long time to sort out. When we got our flat there was a load of legal shit to go through before we got the keys, we were waiting around for nearly three months.”
“Anyway, first round’s on me,” Charlie said in an effort to both change and escape from the subject, “what’s everyone having?”
“Hey Brad,” Owen piped up, looking over at the barmaids, “isn’t that your ex?”
He pointed towards Emily, the slim woman with dark blonde hair and thick-rimmed glasses, who was serving the group at one of the other tables. When Emily looked up for a brief moment as she was pulling a pint, Skye made eye contact with her, and her scowl curled back into a smile, but this one was less joyous and more devious.
“Yeah that’s Emily,” Brad nodded, “I haven’t spoken to…”, but he was once again interrupted as Skye straddled and began kissing him passionately, bucking her hips and moving with such force that Brad had to hold onto another table to stop them both falling off the chair. Charlie and Raquel stood dumbfounded and rather embarrassed, while Owen gave a sly chuckle and had another puff of his vape.
“I’ll just have a gin and tonic, parma violet if they have it, thanks Charlie,” Raquel said awkwardly as Charlie headed to the bar.
Skye opened one eye between her kisses and looked to see if Emily was still there, catching a glimpse of her running through the doorway leading down into the bar’s cellar. When she finally pulled away, she said to a stunned Brad, “Sorry about that Brad, I’m just so excited to spend the rest of my life with you, I hope you feel the same!”
“Of course I do Skye, I love you more than anything,” Brad assured her, “but, like, could you get off for a minute while I get our drinks?”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” she nodded, moving across to the empty chair next to them, “just a vodka lemonade for me, thanks.”
Brad got up and joined Charlie at the bar, taking time to stretch some of his muscles now he had dropped the weight he had been carrying all evening. As he waited for Heather to notice him, he heard a voice quietly say, “Him there, the lanky bastard,” followed by mocking laughter and another voice following up with, “I bet he’s regretting it.”
He looked up just in time to see the two older men further down the bar looking at him and chuckling, before they both looked away and resumed talking to each other. He approached the men and tapped the nearest one on the shoulder, puffing out his chest and standing up straight to emphasize his height and stature.
“You alright there?” the man asked in confusion.
“Need a break from that nutty lass, eh?” the second man joked.
“You were both laughing at me,” Brad said bluntly, “me and my fiancee.”
“No, no, we weren’t laughing at you lad,” the second man claimed nonchalantly with a careless wave of his hand, “we were just…”
Brad did not allow the man to finish, instead he grabbed him by the neck and slammed his head into the edge of the bar with such force that everyone’s pint glasses shook. As the man fell to the floor in shock, the first man stepped in and attempted to put space between them, while Charlie tried to pull Brad away and shouted, “What the fuck are you doing?”, but Brad shoved them both away and began to furiously beat the man. At their table, a horrified Raquel ran to Charlie’s side, while Skye and Owen merely watched on with a morbid satisfaction.
Alice and three men from the other tables rushed to the scene, with Alice putting a muscular arm around Brad’s neck and pulling him away as he struggled, while the others tended to the injured man, whose head and mouth were now dripping with blood.
“I told you to behave yourself!” Alice shouted as she dragged Brad towards the front door, “No one likes a troublemaker!”
Brad broke free from Alice’s restraint and punched her in the stomach, causing her to crash into a table. The rest of the group surrounded Brad and tried to stop him, but he pushed past all of them and stormed back towards where the man lay.
“I’m not done with you yet!” he snarled as he prepared to continue the beating, but at that moment, Emily ran out from behind the bar and threw a half-finished pint of Cruzcampo in his face. The beer went into his eyes, causing him to stumble back and almost fall over. This gave Alice and Charlie the opportunity to get a hold of Brad again and drag him outside. Skye followed them, taking the opportunity to shout “Filthy slut!” at Emily before leaving.
As Heather phoned for an ambulance, and everyone else gathered around the injured man, Emily exhaled a deep breath as her heart pounded and adrenaline flooded her system. Raquel rushed over and gave Emily a hug, saying “I’m so sorry for that love, are you okay?”
Emily took another deep breath before answering, “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve been waiting for a while to do that.”

****

This was not the first time a night out had ended with Brad getting arrested, and he was fairly certain he had been in this specific holding cell at the police station before, but he reckoned the next morning would go one of two ways: either he’d be let out at sunrise with a slap on the wrist, a hangover, and some explaining to do to Mum and Dad, or if the guy he beat didn’t learn a lesson and pressed charges, he might have to stay for a while longer. Either way, lying on the thin foam mattress and staring up at the cell’s ceiling, the quiet and darkness gave him time to think about things, or at least as much as he could think while there was still alcohol in his system.
‘Was that too much? No, it wasn’t, those bastards were laughing at me. It wasn’t just me either, they were laughing at my girl! Then again she was acting a bit over-the-top, more than usual. I hope she isn’t back on the drugs. That guy totally deserved it. I would’ve done a lot worse if I didn’t have a fucking beer thrown in my eyes. I can’t believe Emily of all people threw a drink at me. Emily. Maybe I should talk to her. No, I shouldn’t. She’s in the past and Skye’s a better fuck and a better girlfriend. Better fiancee. Fiancee. Maybe I shouldn’t have proposed so soon, with all that shit she was talking about buying a house and having a baby. Oh God, what if she’s already pregnant? Would she have been drinking if she knew she was? Actually, knowing Skye, maybe. I should keep her away from Owen, he’s a bad influence. She could be fucking him behind my back for all I know, those kisses had the energy of someone with a guilty conscience. I used to kiss Emily like that. She is a great kisser though. And should I be judging someone for a guilty conscience after beating up an old man?…’
Brad looked down at the speckles of blood staining his orange t-shirt; it had now dried and turned a dark reddish brown. He then sat up and held his head in his hands; all of that thinking combined with a developing hangover were giving him a severe headache. The eerie silence was starting to get to him as well, for a moment he considered banging on the cell’s thick metal door and bothering any officers still on duty, just as a way of passing the time until the morning, but knowing how much trouble he was already in he decided against it.
As Brad was about to lie back down and try to sleep, he felt the floor vibrate slightly beneath his feet. At first he thought nothing of it, but as time went on the ground shook more and more, until cracks started appearing along the wall. Starting to panic, Brad banged on the door and shouted, “Hello? Is anyone there? I think something’s happening! Hello?”
He gasped as he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, but before he could turn around he was pulled backwards by some great force, and everything went black.

****

When Brad woke up, his vision was blurred for a while, he felt groggy, and his head was still pounding, but using what little energy he had left he sat up and shook himself awake. When his hands touched the floor, he was surprised to discover he was no longer on the cold concrete floor of the cell, but instead sitting on grass. Once his vision focused he looked around, and realised he was now outside, in the middle of a sprawling meadow with patches of small purple flowers. This meadow sat at the bottom of a small hill, which itself was surrounded either side by knee-high grass that bordered forest edges. The morning sun radiated a comforting warmth, and far off in the distance beyond the forests stood a row of mountains with snow-capped peaks.
“Where am I?” Brad said as he stood up and stretched his muscles. He knew his home town and the surrounding area well, but this was a place he had never seen before. There was no wind, no birdsong, no ambient sound to be heard at all, the silence was every bit as eerie as it was in the cell.
“Hello?” he shouted as he surveyed the area, but there was no answer. Picking a direction, he set off walking through the meadow in search of anything or anyone that could tell him where he was. Along the way, he noticed the landscape was littered with various debris; portions of partially demolished and crumbling brick walls covered in moss; telephone poles that had either completely fallen down or stood lopsided with snapped wires; the rusted and collapsing remains of abandoned cars, bicycles, and even a derailed train lying on its side; it all suggested people used to live in this place, but for one reason or another they were all gone, and no one had been here in a very long time.
Soon, Brad finally heard a sound, that of running water. Following it, he came to a slow-flowing river at the very far end of the meadow, with the forest edge on its other side. The water was clear enough to see the river bed and tiny fish with shimmering silver scales. Sitting down on the riverbank, Brad scooped some water into his hand and drank it, even though it had an odd metallic taste, he was at least happy to have some hydration to help with his headache. A few yards away on the other side of the river, a deer emerged from the forest and stopped by the bank, bowing its head for a drink. Being careful not to make any sudden movements that may startle it, Brad watched the deer for a while, and realised something odd about it. All along the deer’s back, there was a mane of what appeared to be feathers with a rusty brown and white plumage.
‘That’s weird,’ Brad thought, but as he leaned forward to get a better look at the deer, it raised its head and looked straight at him. The feathers unfurled into a pair of massive wings, and the deer launched itself into the air and flew away. Brad sat there dumbfounded for a moment, trying to make sense of what he had just seen, and watched the flying deer until it was nothing more than a speck far off in the sky above the mountains.
“What the fuck?” he said out loud, “Did that actually just happen?”, but his confusion was interrupted by a sound coming from the forest, the sound of laughter. It was high-pitched, shrill and mocking in tone, as if someone was laughing directly at Brad. He stood up and looked towards the forest, spotting something moving behind the treeline.
“Who’s there?” he shouted, standing up and readying himself for a confrontation. There was no answer, only the faint rustling of undergrowth. Now completely on edge, Brad set off walking along the river, following the flow downstream and cautiously looking over his shoulder every minute or so. The main thing on his mind at this point was not exactly where he was, how he got here, or how a deer could grow wings and fly, but that he needed to find people who could help him get home and back to Skye, who by this point was more than likely worried sick about him, or so he hoped.
Before long, Brad came to another bizarre sight. A patch of land close to the riverbank had been cleared of plantlife, and black squares in a checkered pattern had been painted on the ground, giving it the appearance of an enormous chessboard. Sculptures carved from sandstone stood on this grid, each around eight feet tall, with heads shaped like various chess pieces, stocky legs, thick arms and four wide fingers on each hand. These sculptures were moving seemingly on their own across the grid, sliding along as if a giant, invisible hand was moving them, and when two got close to one another, they would turn away in opposite directions.
‘Some sort of modern art?’ Brad thought, hoping this would be the last surreal thing he would see today. Just as the idea of sitting down again crossed his mind, he once again heard the laughter coming from the forest. He stood to attention and tried to follow the sound, but still couldn’t see anyone.
“Whoever’s laughing, come out here and show yourself!” he called, trying to sound as strong and imposing as he could. “I’m a big guy and I do not take kindly to being laughed at! Come out here, before I come across that river and drag you out myself!”
There was again no answer, and the laughing promptly stopped.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought!” Brad said mockingly, but as he turned around he jumped backwards in shock as he realised one of the sandstone sculptures had left the grid and was now standing only a few inches away from him. Before he could think of what to do, the sculpture sprung to life and grabbed him by the arm, twisting his elbow with such force that the bones in his forearm snapped in half. Brad screamed out in pain as he collapsed to the floor, but the sculpture did not loosen its grip. As he tried desperately to pull his arm free, three other sculptures slid towards him, with one gripping onto his other arm, and the other two taking hold of each leg. They repeated the same motions as the first, and Brad shrieked as the bones in all of his limbs were broken. As he struggled, he noticed someone calmly walking towards the sculptures, the first person he had seen since waking up in this place. They wore a white shirt and an old leather apron, both of which were covered in multi-coloured paint splashes, and the apron’s pockets were full of paintbrushes and sculpting tools, while their head was covered by a sack with crudely cut eyeholes.
“Help! Help me!” Brad pleaded as the masked person came closer, but they walked past two of the sculptures and stopped about a foot away from Brad’s face. The person then reached into one of their pockets and pulled out a knife. Brad then let out one final scream of sheer terror as the person stabbed him in the neck and cut open his throat.

Chapter Two

Nick breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the front door behind him and hung up his jacket. It had been a long and stressful day at his Tesco job, and he was glad to finally have some quiet time to himself. After changing out of his uniform and preparing some Cup Noodles, he sat down on the sofa and spent a while scrolling through his phone. No one had called or texted recently; Nick didn’t have many friends and wasn’t very good at making them either. He hardly ever spoke to anyone outside of work, so the lack of messages shouldn’t have been a surprise. Even so, it would always hurt.
He looked through his Facebook feed, and it was mostly the usual stuff: holiday photos, unfunny memes, political strife, and appeals for help finding a missing person named Brad. Same old, same old, to the point where it was getting a bit boring, and Nick wondered what was motivating him to keep checking it.
‘Should I reach out and text someone?’ Nick thought, and for a moment he scanned his list of contacts to weigh up which one was least likely to ignore him. He knew deep down that he should make more of an effort to put himself out there, and be the type of guy who people wanted to talk to, but there was always that one little nagging voice in the back of his head saying, ‘They’ll just think you’re weird or boring. Don’t bother.’
Putting down his phone and finishing off his noodles, Nick’s mind started to wander, and he found himself gazing out of the living room window at nothing in particular. He got up and went to the kitchen, at first to check the fridge, but without thinking he soon found himself looking first in the cutlery drawer, and then at the knife block.
Unsheathing one of the knives, Nick stood staring at it for a lot longer than he should have. He then looked down at the ugly white scarring on his left forearm, which began at his wrist and continued all the way up to his lower bicep.
‘It’s been years since the last time,’ he thought, ‘you’ve come too far to start that again. You really need to talk to someone. Anyone.’
Before he could dwell on the matter any further, Nick heard a sound coming from outside. Someone was laughing; a high-pitched and rasping laugh that almost sounded like the squawking of a bird. It only lasted for a few seconds, but it was enough for Nick to return the knife to its place, go to the kitchen window and look down onto the street outside his flat. It was getting dark, and the only sign of life Nick could see was a person walking off down the street, too far away to see clearly. He stepped away from the window and leaned against the kitchen worktop; he knew what he just heard was probably nothing, his fragile mental state making a big deal out of a random person simply laughing at something, but that sound unsettled him, to the point where he could feel his heart pounding and a bead of sweat run down his forehead. As he calmed himself and his gaze ever so briefly drifted back towards the knife block, he had a sudden thought; ‘Maybe go to the pub?’ This was something Nick almost never did, as he hated too much noise and knew what alcohol could do to a person, but he reckoned putting himself out there and meeting new people would be a much better way of handling how he felt. He left the kitchen and went to the bathroom to prepare the shower.

****

As he made his way down Laalthwaite’s Main Street, Nick found himself taking a mental note of every shop he passed, what few remained. ‘Empty, empty, vape shop, Subway, barber that’s probably a front for criminal shit, empty, Gregg’s, nail bar same deal as the barber, empty, empty, oh damn I remember when that one used to be the toy shop…’
Laalthwaite was similar to many other small, low-level working class, post-industrial towns in the North of England. It was once was a healthy, bustling town with lots of different shops, cafes, banks and other businesses lining Main Street, but as the years went on it found itself in a steep and painful decline as more people left the area and businesses closed down, leaving vacant husks with smashed windows and rusted shutters that may never be pulled up again. By the time Nick had left his flat, dressed in his nicest casual wear, it was night time and the only people out were groups of friends heading from one drinking spot to the next, screaming and being merry as they struggled to stay upright.
“Ay! Lad!” a harsh and gravelly voice called. A fat man with thinning grey hair, carrying a ten-pack of Carling under his arm, approached Nick and put his free hand out. “Lend me a tenner?” he asked, “so I can get a pint?”
Nick cautiously took a step back and said, “You have those beers there.”
“Well aye, but, a pint in’t pub wiv ‘em,” the man explained, perhaps making perfect sense in his own head, but only confusing Nick. Struggling to think of an excuse on the spot, Nick shook his head, replied, “Err, no sorry, no,” and hurried off, hoping that the man wouldn’t follow. As he continued up the street he heard the man grumble “Fuckin’ bastard…” followed by something unintelligible.

****

Before long, Nick found a bar he liked the look of: Cloud Nine. He had heard his work colleagues talk about this place in passing but had never been there before. After paying for a pint of Cruzcampo, he sat on one of the bar stools and took in the atmosphere as he waited; the neon lights, painted flowers on the walls, fairly quiet music and display of posh gin and vodka bottles on the back wall created an atmosphere a lot more comforting than Nick had expected, he had been in cocktail bars and pubs like this during his university years in Manchester, but never thought he would see one in a town like Laalthwaite.
“Where do I recognise you from?” the barmaid asked with a coy smile as she handed Nick his pint. She was a skinny woman with a braid of dark blonde hair, thick-rimmed glasses, and dressed in a black long-sleeve turtleneck, and Nick couldn’t help but think to himself, ‘She’s really pretty. For the love of God act natural!’
“Probably Tesco if you shop there?” Nick said, “I’m usually on the electronics aisle putting security tags on the phone chargers and stuff.”
“Yeah that’s probably it, I thought I’d seen your cute little face somewhere before.”
She left to serve someone else, and Nick took a big gulp of his beer as he processed the fact that someone had just called him cute.
“How are you doing, lad?” a voice suddenly said, catching his attention. The bouncer who had checked Nick’s driver’s licence at the door had pulled up a stool next to him; she was a very muscular and imposing woman with broader shoulders and bigger biceps than Nick had seen on any man. Her chestnut brown hair was tied back in a short ponytail, and her piercing blue eyes were locked intently on Nick.
“Oh, I’m sorry, have I done something wrong?” Nick asked nervously.
“No no, don’t worry, believe me, if you’d have done something wrong you’d already be on the ground,” the bouncer replied, her tone of voice surprisingly soft and gentle. “You just looked lonely sitting there by yourself, and the slot machine’s out of order so I have nothing to do for now. Are you just out on your own?”
“Yeah, yeah I am,” Nick nodded, lowering his guard slightly and trying his best to appear normal. “I don’t go out drinking very much, I have no friends to go out drinking with really, so I’m not sure which bars are good around here, if any?”
“Well, I’m Alice and I do a few doors around here,” she explained, “I’d say avoid the King’s Head, the White Horse and Ozzy D’s, they’re where all the junkies go, the rest are never too bad.”
“Are you bothering the customers again, Alice?” the barmaid joked as she returned and leaned over the bar. “Not everyone wants to be your gym buddy, you know.”
“I’m just keeping the lad company, he’s on his own,” Alice replied before saying to Nick, “this is Emily, and I can tell you from personal experience that she’s the best shag in town.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Emily hissed as she lightly hit Alice on the shoulder. “Don’t listen to her, she’s an absolute scumbag.”
“You weren’t saying that the other night,” Alice smirked. At this point Nick wasn’t sure whether or not to force a laugh or make an excuse to sit elsewhere, as he had nothing to add to whatever conversation he had been roped into.
“I can promise you lad, it’s not always like this in here,” Emily chuckled, “sometimes you could even call it civilised. Just keep an eye out for this one and you should be fine.”
As Emily left again to serve another customer, Alice said to Nick, “We’re always making little jokes like that, so you know. Anyway, you said you don’t have any friends?”
“Not outside of work, no” Nick shrugged, taking another sip of his beer. “I have looked into social groups and art classes and stuff. I used to do a lot of painting and sculpting, but it’s been a few years so I’m not sure if I’d be any good now.”
“The best art I can do is stick figures,” Alice said. “Have you ever thought about a gym membership? I go to this place in the middle of town, Hercules Fitness. Great place to make friends, keeps you healthy, it completely changed my life that’s for sure. I think you’d enjoy it, and I have been looking for a new gym buddy. I’ll send you their details over Facebook if you have it, what did you say your name was?”
“Oh, I’m Nick, or Nicholas if you’re mad at me,” he replied, slowly starting to feel comfortable, “and yeah, I will look into that. I do need to get out of the flat some more.”
A large group of young people entered the bar, and Alice got up and said to them, “Right ladies and gents, I’ll need to see some ID.”
Nick looked out of a window nearest to where he sat, and saw something strange. A large dog was standing on the other side of the road, and staring in the direction of the bar. It had long legs, pointed ears, a shiny golden collar, and something gold running down its legs, and the darkness made its fur look almost cobalt blue. As the dog turned and trotted away, Nick thought for a moment about where he may have seen such a dog before, but he soon disregarded it and looked forward to the night ahead.

****

Skye had spent most of the day under her duvet, swiping through pictures of Brad on her phone and ignoring every jingle of her text alerts. It had been four months, two weeks, three days, nineteen hours, twenty-seven minutes and thirteen seconds since she had last seen her fiancee, being loaded into the back of a police van for the heinous crime of defending his woman’s honour. It had also been a week since any officers or detectives had spoken to her about his disappearance, and she considered calling them again for an update, despite knowing she would get the same stupid answer as the last nine times, ‘We’re still no closer to finding him, but rest assured we are looking into this extensively.’
The official story was that Brad was held in custody at the police station, but escaped his cell and ran off somewhere. Skye never completely believed this, she knew that Brad wouldn’t just run away without saying something to his future wife, his one true love, his everything. This was what she had spent the last five months telling herself again and again to keep that little ember of hope burning, but as time went on that hope turned to doubt, which gradually shifted into despair.
Skye had found herself replaying the memories of her and Brad’s time together over and over again in her mind, and on many days it was the only thing she could think about. She had loved the nights they had spent joyriding all around the outskirts of Laalthwaite in Brad’s Vauxhall Corsa, blasting her favourite house music and revving the engine loud enough to wake up the entire county. His boy racer driving had almost killed them both, and more than a few pedestrians and dog walkers, so many times that it was a wonder how they were never arrested for it. Regardless, she loved the sheer adrenaline rush, and the fact that the most perfect man in the world was by her side all the way through it. It was by far the best thing she had ever experienced in this shit little town.
Brad’s proposal had come immediately after one of these joyrides; even if it was a day after they had had a massive argument when Skye caught him looking at his horrible bitch of an ex-girlfriend’s Instagram page, it didn’t matter at the time. She was getting married to the man of her dreams; it didn’t just make her feel overjoyed, but powerful, successful, as if she had really achieved everything she ever wanted, and was now about to begin an amazing new chapter. But it never happened. The next night after the proposal, Brad started a fight in a bar, got arrested, escaped from the police station, and disappeared without a trace, leaving Skye alone once again.
Her phone started ringing, with the name ‘Mum’ appearing on the screen. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, not even her own mother, and for a moment she considered rejecting the call and switching her phone off, but she soon gave an annoyed sigh and answered.
“Hi Mum, is everything OK?”
“Hello love, I was just seeing how you are today,” Mum said, “is there anything you need?”
“No, I’m doing alright, I’m off work today so I’ve just been watching telly and stuff.”
“Have you heard anything more about Brad?”
“Not since last week, it’s just the same old shit at this point, the police still don’t know where he is, and they’re only just now coming around to the idea that I don’t know either.”
“Oh I’m sorry about that. Are you still managing to get out and see your friends?”
The true answer to this question was no, Skye’s phone had a long list on unanswered calls and dozens of unread texts, from friends and family seeing if she was alright, to a bunch of unworthy men attempting to court her now she couldn’t really use the ‘I have a boyfriend’ excuse, and she had no intention to answer any of it.
“A little bit,” she lied, “some of them aren’t talking to me, and I think I’m still banned from that bar we went to, but I do still talk to Raquel and Owen.”
“Owen?” Mum asked with a clear hint of concern in her voice that Skye couldn’t help but roll her eyes at. “Skye, please don’t tell me you’re doing any of that stuff again. With everything that’s going on a relapse is the last thing any of us need.”
“I’m not doing that Mum, don’t worry,” she lied once again, “Owen’s a good friend, he’s been really supportive, and I promise you I’m not buying anything off him any more.”
“Well if you’re sure, but you should really find some better people to be friends with. Anyway, Dad and I are going to Butlin’s down in Bognor Regis next weekend. Would you like to come with us? I think it would be a nice change of scenery for you, a good way to get your mind off everything?”
“I don’t think I’d enjoy it, I’m not keen on holiday parks, but thanks for offering.”
“Alright, but let us know if you change your mind, and do call or text me if there’s anything you need, I’m always here for you.”
“Thanks Mum, but I’m doing fine for now. I’ll see you later.”
“OK, bye love.”
As she hung up, Skye got out of bed and went to the bathroom. She spent a while checking her appearance in the mirror; her hair was dyed her favourite shade of electric blue, but the roots of her natural raven black hair were starting to come through. She looked down at the array of foundations, lipsticks and blushers next to the sink, most of which had sat unused for months. With little to no motivation to go out or speak to anyone, and no one she felt like she needed to impress, Skye had little reason to put on make-up these days.
‘Perhaps I should try green hair?’ she thought, ‘Owen likes the colour green, though that might be a bit on the nose. Which reminds me…’
Returning to the bedroom, Skye pulled up a corner of the carpet and removed a piece of one of the floorboards. Underneath was a small gap where she kept her stash of weed; she inspected each of the bags, and concluded there was only enough left to last the rest of the week. Fetching her phone from under the duvet, she texted Owen with the phrase, ‘Hi, am I OK to borrow your step ladder?’, this being the code word they used whenever Skye needed to buy more weed from him, and before long he replied with, ‘Sure, just say when.’
‘Sorry Mum,’ Skye thought to herself, ‘but I have my own ways to make myself feel better.’

****

Far out from Laalthwaite’s town centre, a narrow brook ran along the edge of the furthest suburban neighbourhoods, separating them from the adjacent farmland. In a secluded area of woodland far away from any houses, the brook flowed into a tunnel underneath a seldom used public path, passing through a culvert covered by steel safety grating. The only people who came here were cyclists and people walking their dogs, and only to use the path, never staying longer than a few seconds at a time. In all of the years Owen had been a drug dealer, he had only seen the police patrolling this area a small handful of times, making it the perfect place to meet his willing and eager customers. He and Skye sat on the edge of the brook, far enough away and behind enough plants so they were not easy to see from the path, but both with their heads down and hoods up to obscure their faces. While Owen puffed on his mango scented vape, Skye enjoyed a freshly rolled blunt.
“I needed this,” Skye said with deep relief as a cloud of smoke escaped her mouth.
“Any time,” Owen replied, “So, is much going on with the investigation?”
“Nothing. At this point I think they’ve given up. Sometimes I wonder if they ever looked for him to begin with. I feel like I should try to investigate it myself, make a proper Nancy Drew adventure out of it, you know? But I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“He’ll be back soon enough, I’d say he’s hiding until the heat dies down, you get me? He shouldn’t have bothered though, the coppers around here are shit. Keep in mind they managed to lose a guy after arresting him!”
“I hope you’re right. By the way Owen, I’ve been meaning to ask, is weed the only thing you sell these days, or do you do any other stuff?”
Owen didn’t answer straight away, furrowing his brow and turning his head away slightly. “I can’t talk about it too much,” he admitted, “nothing personal, it’s just you can never be too sure who’s wearing a wire, you get me?”
“I wouldn’t do that to you Owen,” Sky frowned, gently stroking his arm. “You’re my best friend, you’ve helped me through so much and you’re the only person who understands that this stuff makes me happy. You can trust me, I wouldn’t rat you out like that.”
He looked back to her and asked, “Okay, what are you wanting?”
“Well, you know how I used to take cocaine? But then Brad threatened to leave me unless I stopped? I’ve been thinking about getting back on it again, with how I’m feeling I think I need something stronger than weed. But the guy I used to get it from hasn’t been answering my texts, I’m not sure if he still works around here.”
“None of my suppliers handle cocaine, but if you want something strong…”
Owen rummaged around in his jacket pocket for a moment and took out a small blister pack containing a set of twelve green pills. “I’ll be selling these to someone else later today,” he explained in a hushed voice, “They’re called Relmies, I’ve never had one myself but I know a fella who has. They calm you down, but they’re also like shrooms where you see things that aren’t there. My pal told me it felt like he’d been dropped into another world, and nothing looked or felt right. He swears blind at one point he saw a flying deer!”
“That sounds exciting!” Skye chuckled, “can you hit me up with some?”
“Like I say they are strong, and there’s some after effects like headaches and tiredness, nothing too bad though. It may take a while to source them, my suppliers don’t have many on hand, but yeah I will get you some.”
“Okay, text me once you manage. Our code word can be something about a flying deer.”
They both laughed, and spent a while longer chatting and smoking by the edge of the brook.

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