Chapter 6
___________
Lyra
I walked down the path from the house where I had grown up, my heart clogged and my head fuzzy.
What the hell had come over me?
Why had I given in to the damn monstrous voice in my head and made a gin and fucking Coke at 11 am?
The taste of the potent spirit lingered on my tongue and swirled at the back of my throat. Guilt swarmed in my chest. I had behaved foolishly, like a weak individual with no control over her actions, and now I had to face the consequences.
There was no way I could drive with that evilness in my bloodstream. If I got caught or had an accident, I could lose my license. I had to take a stroll and sober up, even if it meant being late for my next appointment.
I barged through the gate and dashed down the street. Rain drizzled on my face, but perhaps a mini soak would freshen me up.
As I continued, a mixture of regret and self-loathing gnawed at me. I couldn”t believe I had succumbed to the temptation of alcohol, especially considering the importance of my work and the potential consequences for the families I was trying to help.
The gloomy gray sky overhead reflected my somber mood, the rain providing a cold, damp backdrop to my internal turmoil. It felt as if the weather mirrored the bleak path I was heading down, falling into the same trap that had ensnared my father and was slowly consuming my mother. The pervasive influence of alcohol loomed over every aspect of my life, and I couldn”t escape its clutches.
”Shit,” I muttered. I was falling into that damn trap, the mind-powering trick that had taken my dad and was slowly eating up my mom. There, I”d said it, or at least thought it. Mom was in the trap, and so was I. Booze surrounded me. Everywhere I went, every thought I had, it all returned to the drink.
Maybe I needed help.
I considered calling Charlie. He”d know what to do. But, in a way, I felt ashamed. How could I admit to him about my problem, my struggle with the relentless grip of alcohol?
The thought of disclosing my vulnerability to someone I respected and worked closely with made my stomach churn. The fear of judgment and the potential impact on our professional relationship weighed heavily on my mind. Yet, deep down, I knew that reaching out for support was a crucial step, and Charlie might be the lifeline I needed.
The internal battle between pride and the urgent need for assistance left me hesitating, contemplating the best course of action to salvage what remained of my unraveling life.
I stopped and looked up at the sky. Rain pattered on my cheeks and lips.
”What am I supposed to do?”
And then a bizarre blast of warmth surrounded me as if someone had just turned on a mini heater. I snapped my head around, expecting to see fire blazing behind me, but there was nothing. I continued walking, ignoring the looming feeling that I was being followed.
Memories of my past came flooding back: me riding my bike alongside my father, playing in the street with neighbor friends, and snippets of secret boozy afternoons with different crowds of so-called pals.
I hated to admit it, but I had started drinking at a young age. It was what we did. There wasn”t much else to do.
I turned a corner, and three youths, likely in their late teens, were loitering in the street. They emanated the aura of the rough type - baseball caps pulled low over their foreheads, baggy clothes hanging off their frames, and an air of nonchalance as they smoked and sipped on beer bottles.
Their presence felt ominous, especially considering my vulnerable state. Instinctively, I decided to avoid them, opting to turn away and continue down the street, hoping to evade any potential confrontation with these seemingly troubled youths.
”Hey, lady,” one called out.
Dread exploded in my stomach. Maybe this was my punishment for acting so foolishly, for not having control over the damn booze.
”Shit,” I muttered, pacing back towards my car.
”Hey, I”m talking to you.”
Refusing to look back, I picked up my pace. I could sense the teens following me, like a pack of starving hyenas searching for prey.
”Got any change for a bottle of rum-diddly-um-dum.”
Their footsteps got louder. They were getting closer. Fear enveloped me, and I felt dizzy. If only I hadn”t had that drink, I”d have been able to handle my decisions better.
”Hey, we need some change, lady. Can you spare a fifty?”
I dared to turn. The three dangerous-looking youths were closing in on me. I took a deep breath and sprinted. My car was only fifty metres away.
”No point running, lady. Old Quick Feet here will catch you.”
I kept going, pushing away the panic growing in my chest. But as I reached my car, one caught up with me, placing his hand on my shoulder.
”Get your fucking hands off me,” I said, flinging my hand back.
I was hoping to strike the youth, but he must have ducked away.
”Don”t be scared. We only want to talk, maybe get some loose change from that lovely-looking purse.”
I turned to face him. He was barely fifteen. His eyes were bloodshot, a desperate kid aching for his next fix.
”Sorry, but I haven”t got any change.” I placed my hand on my purse and moved it behind me.
”We”ll be the judge of that,” said his friend, appearing by my side. He was panting hard, no doubt buzzing from adrenaline.
”Leave me alone, or I”ll call the cops.”
”Oh, that means you must have a cell on you too. Get her, boys.”
They pounced on me, pushing me against my car and ripping my purse from my hands.
”Hey, give that back.” I tried to grab it, but the taller one squared up to me. I glared into his eyes. He looked familiar. ”Hang on, I know your mom. You”re Julie”s boy.”
”So what if I am?” he said, glaring at me with venom. ”So that makes you the same as age her, does it?” He looked me up and down and smirked. ”I like older women; they have more experience.”
”Get back. I”m warning you,” I said, clenching my fists.
”Why, what you gonna do, lady?”
He pulled a knife from behind his back and winked. The sight of the gleaming blade sent a shiver down my spine, and a surge of fear and adrenaline rushed through me. My heart raced as the realization of the danger escalated.
”Okay, okay,” I said, holding my hands up. ”Just take what you want, but please give me my cell; I have all my contacts on there.”
”That”s a shame. All your dirty boyfriends are gonna miss you.”
I watched in horror as they pulled out my cell and cards. The world seemed to blur, and a knot tightened in the pit of my stomach. The atmosphere grew charged with an overwhelming sense of vulnerability, and I grappled with a mix of panic and dread. The cold glint of the knife transformed the situation, intensifying the threat and leaving me on edge, unsure of what would unfold next.
”Please,” I said, stepping forward.
”You don”t want to fuck with us,” said the taller one, towering over me.
”Fine, take my cell, but give me the SIM card.”
”What use is a cell without a SIM card?” said the shorter one, waving my cell in the air.
”Don”t, please,” I said, my voice trembling.
”Or what? There”s no one to save you, pretty lady. Maybe you want your SIM because you have dirty pictures of you naked on here.”
”Yeah, let”s have a look.”
As they huddled around my phone, trying to work out how to swipe it on, a gust of wind whirled around them.
”Hey, what was that?” said the tall one, frowning as he looked around.
”Yeah, did you feel that?” asked another.
They jolted about as if an invisible force was manipulating their movements. They appeared disoriented and struggled to maintain control over their actions. It was as though an unseen being was intervening, causing confusion and chaos among the thugs.
I stood there as hope and anxiety filled my chest, bewildered at this inexplicable force at play. I wondered who or what could be responsible for this bizarre turn of events.
”Get the fuck out of here, leave her,” said a deep, male voice. They looked at each other in shock, fear gripping their souls.
”Hey, who”s that?” asks the taller guy.
”Your worst nightmare.”
The purse and cell lifted from their hands and floated towards me.
”She”s a witch.”
”We”re fucking with the devil.”
”Let”s get out of here.”
As they sped off, relief washed over me. I stared in shock as my cell and purse hovered by my face.
”Take what”s yours,” said the voice.
I held out my hands as they drifted down. Once they were back in my possession, the scent from that morning drifted up my nose, and my heart lifted.
The unusual occurrences and the inexplicable force at play left me feeling unsettled and anxious, unsure of what was happening or what would happen next. The scent in the air seemed to linger, intensifying my unease as I grappled with the surreal events unfolding before me.
”The hell is going on?” I whispered.
”You shouldn”t drive after that drink,” said the voice.
”Who”s that?”
”Someone who cares.”
”But who are you?”
”I can”t tell you yet. Get in your car, in the passenger seat.”
”No way, with the invisible man, are you nuts?”
”Maybe just a little,” he said in a playful tone. ”But I just saved your life. I can”t show you myself here; we have to go somewhere else. You can trust me.”
”How do I know that?”
”Because you”ve been searching for someone to trust for some time, haven”t you?”
A wave of terror came over me. Did he know about my secrets, about my drink problem? The situation was totally crazy, but I knew I had to trust him.
The door opened.
”Come on.”
”Fine, but no funny business.”
”Uh-huh.”
I got in the car, sat down, and watched in shock as the driver”s door opened, the seat moved back, and the engine started.