Blood Winter by S.J. Coles

Author:S.J. Coles [Coles, S.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: LGBT Romance Fiction
Publisher: Pride Publishing
Published: 2020-12-28T18:30:00+00:00

* * * *

I’d never known anything more uncomfortable than that meal with David and Meg. Her stir-fry was excellent, fragrant and rich, but it sat like stone in my belly. The TV was on in the corner, tuned to some movie channel whilst they kept up a flow of stilted conversation. I couldn’t tell if the elephant in the room was David or me. I gave short, one-word answers until Meg gave up trying to include me. I tried to figure out whether they expected me to leave with them or whether I wanted to if they did.

I tried not to look at David. I’d made myself not think about him for years. I remembered his branded sportswear, expensive shoes and overpriced, ugly watches. I remembered watching it all disappear as his drug habit worsened. Now he sat with his legs crossed on my faded second-hand couch in non-branded jeans, a plain black T-shirt, no watch, un-groomed and thin but smiling…at Meg, not at me…talking easily, calmly. There was no twitchiness from withdrawal, none of the nervous energy I remembered from when he would be coming down. He had apparently had the same job in a South London Starbucks for the last two years and was on his way to becoming store manager. I couldn’t decide if it was the truth or whether he was just saying it for Meg’s benefit…or mine.

I desperately wanted to go to my room and shut the door on them, but I couldn’t leave. I kept watching the door, the windows. David’s gun was like a fourth person in the room. Eventually Meg patted her brother’s knee a little stiffly and rose. She gave me an apologetic glance and wished me goodnight. When we heard her door shut, David’s face changed.

“Say whatever you want to say.”

I chewed over several things, rejected all of them and left the room. I leaned against my bedroom door, kneading my temples. The ache didn’t leave. I got into bed, leaving the curtains open, and made sure the shotgun was in reach. I listened to David move around the sitting room, turning off the TV, rooting in the cupboard for spare blankets. I listened to everything fall silent.

The only sound was the low growl of Glasgow in the distance. Physical and mental exhaustion wrestled with the caffeine and fear. I waited for the dreams.

Terje appeared in the corner of the room. The light from the streetlight shone in his white-blond hair and glinted in the sliver of his eyes. He stood motionless, hands in the pockets of a long, black overcoat. His eyes were on me, darker than night, deeper than space. A strand of hair had become untucked from behind his ear. I wanted to reach out and brush it back. My skin and veins started to thrum whilst the chill of fear spread slowly through my insides.

I reached out. Sometimes in the dreams, he came to me. Sometimes I had to go to him. This time nothing happened.

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