I set the bottle down. My hand hovering around its neck, fingers twitching slightly. I turned my head just enough to look at him fully. Let the quiet stretch out, thick and tense.
“Touch me again,” I growled, “And you’ll leave here in pieces.”
His eyes narrowed, lips pulling into a grin. “Big mouth coming from someone as small as you.” I scoffed as my hand tightened around the bottle neck. Then he did it, placed one meaty hand on my shoulder, fingers digging in just enough to push his point. That was a green light in my eyes.
Picking up the near-empty bottle, I slammed it against his jaw. Glass shattering over him as he staggered back, stunned. But I was already on him. Took him by the collar and rammed him backwards into a table, bottles and chairs crashing around us. The bartender yelled towards the bouncers positioned at the door as the bar exploded into chaos. He swung for me, catching my jaw, and soon followed with my fist, which connected withhis nose with an unmistakable thunk under my knuckle. Then his stomach, then his throat. Blood sprayed across my face with every unyielding blow against him. I wanted him to hit me again. I wanted him to try. I wanted a reason to make him suffer. But he was pathetic, his body slumping to the floor, not giving me the burning satisfaction I was looking for. Because this wasn’t about him, he just poked the bear. This was about Danny, about Selene, about everyone who thought they could control me.
They grabbed me, dragged me off him, my fists still twitching for more.
“Get out!” someone barked behind me. “Before the cops show.” Leading me towards the door, forcefully throwing me out of it quicker than my body could keep up with. I stumbled onto the pavement outside the bar, the alcohol rushing through me, causing an unsteady feeling. I threw my head back laughing hysterically at the sheer audacity of it. People passing me on the street gave me wide-eyed stares.
Good. Let them think I was unhinged, I don’t fucking care anymore. My breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a chuckle as I wiped blood from my lip. I turned, holding up a middle finger to the two bouncers now lingering in the doorway, stopping me from re-entering. I raised my eyes and just like fucking clockwork, there she was. Leaning against the brick wall with her arms crossed over her chest, her expression showed her disappointment towards me.
“Well, look who it is!” My arms held out wide at my sides.
“What the fuck are you playing at, Screech?” she questioned.
I scoffed, taking a step towards her, “Are you turning your nose up at violence, Misfit? Not like you, is it?”
“Not at all, mainly just wondering the reason for it.”
Smoke spilling from her lips as I snapped back.
“Do I need one?” I furrowed my brows at her. Closing the distance between us, I slung my arm over her shoulder like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“You missed quite a show,” I playfully murmured near her ear, quickly remembering her rule of‘no touching.’ I could feel her tense beneath me.
“Ops, my bad. The wicked bitch doesn’t like being touched.” I held up my hands in a mocking gesture as her brow creased further in disgust towards me. She pushed me back further with her hand.
A flash of anger reached her eyes, “You’re a fucking mess, Screech.”
“Ouch, that one really hurt.” Holding a hand to my chest, a devilish smirk played on my lips as I looked to her through my brow.
“You really need to get your fucking shit together,” her head tilting to me as her annoyance grew.
I scoffed, closing the distance once again, “Oh really? Coming from you?” She didn’t move, just stood there. I staggered, still riding the disappointing high of the fight.
“Screech, you’re the one out here covered in blood from a fight you clearly lost, stinking of whiskey and disappointment.” The tension between us magnified as she pushed herself closer to my face, “You're fucking pathetic.”
I froze looking at her.
Pathetic?
Fucking pathetic!
After a moment, I shook my head, turning away from her, and here I was, thinking we had turned a corner in our twisted little alliance; guess I was wrong. “You know what. Fuck you Misfit,” swinging my arm in an exhausted dismissal as I started walking away from her.
“Oh, here we go, where you going now, Screech?” her angered voice shouted after me.
“To take a long walk off a short pier. Or to get the fuck away from you. Take ya pick,” It fell quiet between us for a beat before I glanced over my shoulder, seeing her following me. Arms wrapped tightly across her chest. My head lolling backwards as my eyes rolled.
“Fuck off Misfit,” I kept walking. Shoulders hunched, fists clenched. The wet pavement beneath me slick, reflecting the red glare of passing traffic.
“Why’s that then?” Her casual tone only made my anger boil beneath my skin. She continued her tirade of insults, “Don’t like that I can give you shit back, so you run away? Dripping all over the pavement like some stray dog.” I bit down on my lip harder; her voice grew louder in my ear as she closed the distance between us.
“Did you honestly think you could take the piss out of me and not receive something back? You’re not that fucking scary, Screech. In fact, all I’ve seen is you get your ass handed to ya. Quite tragic, really, for someone who talks a big game. Nothing more than a little boy, really. All bark, barely any bite, starting shit he obviously can’t finish.”
My fists were trembling as I clenched them harder, the darkness behind my eyes spilling into my expression, faltering to hold myself back. Her voice turned dangerous as her words sliced through me, “I expected more from you, something bigger. I knew you were weak, but I thought you had potential. Guess I was wrong. And this, this is what you are—sad bar fights and poor life choices. I almost feel sorry for you. You reek of stale beer and failure.”
