04| phantosmia

DIANE

The music was deafening, pounding in my ears like the beat of a drum. The floor vibrated beneath my feet, the force of the bass making my body tremble.

People were pressed against each other, their bodies slick with sweat, the air thick with the smell of alcohol and sweat. I tried to move with the rhythm, to let myself go, but I couldn't. My thoughts were consumed by what had happened.

I was sure to let it all out with the girls later but right now I didn't want to be a party popper. So I did the one thing I knew would put me in the mood and that was drinking tequila.

I could feel the tequila burn down my throat, its bitter taste lingering on my tongue. I had never been much of a drinker, let alone a fan of tequila, but I needed something to take the edge off.

The world around me was starting to blur, and I welcomed the numbness that was starting to take over. I knew it wasn't healthy, that I was only using alcohol to escape my problems, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I just wanted to forget.

"Diane, hey are you ok?" Claudia asked with concern. I smiled, cupping her cheeks. Malika gasped. "Did you drink?"

"Crap. Let's get out of here before some guy takes advantage of you," Claudia said. "Don't be a party popper," I slurred.

"Diane, we're leaving now."

"No," I stumbled, swinging my bag on somebody's face.  "Hey pretty lady, you look like you need a drink," His accent is heavy and unmistakable. 

"Back off," Claudia glared. "I suggest you listen," I turn to look at the guy. "She's not friendly. By the way, sorry for hitting you," I whispered, my vision becoming more distorted.

"Woo!" I wiggled my arms as Malika and Claudia tried their best to walk me out of the club but my carelessness caused me to drop something.

The sound of shattering glass pierced the air, the noise jolting me out of my trance. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the sudden change in light, and realized that the source of the noise was a vase that had been knocked over. Shards of glass lay scattered across the floor, glinting in the dim light. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my mind racing as I tried to make sense of what had just happened.

"Hey what's your problem lady!" said the bartender,  his voice so loud that it startled me. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to"

"Come here," he said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me toward him. But Malika stepped in, pushing him away from me.

"Leave her alone," she said, her voice firm. He glared at her, his jaw clenched. Then, before I could react, he shoved her. She stumbled backward, and with a sickening thud, hit the floor. My heart stopped. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I shouted, my voice shaking.

I moved to Malika's side, kneeling next to her. "Are you okay?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Suddenly, the music stopped, and the club went silent, and only the sound of pounding footsteps could be heard. 

A tall, imposing figure emerged from the crowd, his eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before him. "What's going on here?" he demanded, his voice stern. But I ignored him, my attention focused solely on Malika. I helped her to her feet, keeping my arm around her as she struggled to stand. "Are you okay?" I asked again, my voice filled with concern.

"I'm fine," she answered.

"Boss," the bartender started, but I cut him off. My eyes landed on the familiar figure and I had to blink twice to make sure it was who I thought it was.

Luciano?

It truly was such a small world.

"Your employee over here," I said, gesturing to the bartender, "pushed my friend because she was trying to defend me." I glared at the bartender, my hands balled into fists.  "All because of a vase," I spat.

"Micah?" Luciano looked over to the bartender who stood there tongue-tied. "She broke the vase boss, it's very valuable-"

"Pack your things and go."

"But boss-"

"You're fired. Meet me in my office and you'll get your severance pay," Authority laced in his tone. Micah balled up his fists and walked to off to what I assumed was Luciano's office.

"Ladies, are you okay?" Luciano asked. 

"

Yes," We nodded, my moment of soberness quickly wearing off. "My apologies,"

"It's ok, we have to get going now," Claudia said. My stomach churned as my eyes widened. "Hey, I need to use the restroom,"

"I'll go with you,"

"No, no. It's ok," I said and walked off before Claudia could insist.

I felt my legs turn to jelly as I made my way to the bathroom, my drunken state taking its toll. The floor seemed to be swaying beneath my feet, and I had to cling to the wall to keep myself upright. I felt like I was moving in slow motion, and the world around me seemed to be spinning.

As I stumbled down the hall, I suddenly collided with someone, my hands grasping at them to keep from falling. I looked up, my vision hazy.

I

pulled the sleeves of my jacket down, not looking where I was going and that's when I bumped into something. I looked up and that's when I saw a back.

I tugged at the sleeves of my jacket, trying to stay warm in the chilly night air. My head was still spinning from the drinks, and I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I turned a corner, and then I heard a crash, followed by a curse. I looked up and realized that I had bumped into someone.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, but the person didn't budge.

I took that as a hint that they had enough of tonight just like I did. "Seems like I'm not the only person who's having a crappy night," I say, shoving my phone in my pocket.

The person didn't respond. Almost like they didn't see or hear me.

"Coming from a person who was nearly raped and still went clubbing the same night, it makes sense." His words caught me off guard. 

How did he-

My brows furrowed in realization. 

He turned around, his gaze lowering when he towered over me.

It was him.

The guy that saved me.

I bit the inside of my cheek. He was right but that didn't mean that I was going to keep my mouth shut.

"Are you calling me a whore?" Something in me ignited. "And what if I was?" He sounded bored, unbothered like he hadn't just uttered such words.

"Well, I'm not gonna sit and cry for days upon days, right?"

"Nobody said you should."

"Fine then. So what do I do?" I ask just so I can get into his thoughts a bit. "Perhaps you could beat someone or could shoot someone or better yet, stab them." His tone was cold and judging by his face, he was being serious.

I furrow my brows while crossing my arms over my chest.  "I've never killed anyone before," I say, completely forgetting that I was supposed to be in the restroom right now.

"The first time is always the best," His tone was malicious and after tonight, you would expect me to run away until I could no longer feel my legs but I stayed. Listening to him-- like the psycho I was.

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag. The smoke billowed out of his mouth, and I could smell the tobacco in the air. It was a pleasing sight, despite the health risks. He made it look so easy, so carefree. "You know smoking is bad for you, right?" I said, a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

He chuckled, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I can't say I've ever heard of the consequences of smoking," I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help but smile.

H

e laughed at my reaction, a warm, genuine laugh that made my stomach flip. "So, Miss Health Guru," he said, "what should I be doing instead?"

"Well," I said, trying to think of something witty, "how about we start with not smoking?"

"No can do," he replied. "This is my one vice."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a tiny bag, rummaging through its contents until I found what I was looking for a small, rectangular box of pink gum. I took out a piece and held it out to him. "Here," I said, a smile on my face. "A gum for a lung, right?" He looked at me as if I had two heads.

"What, are you serious?" he asked, an incredulous look on his face.

"I figured you needed a replacement, no?" I shrugged, and he let out a short laugh, reaching out to take the gum from my hands but then my eyes caught something.

My eyes widened as I noticed something else: his other hand was bleeding. "You're bleeding," I said, my voice full of alarm. I instinctively reached for his hand, but he flinched as if my touch would burn him.

"It's nothing," he said, and now I was the one looking at him like he grew too heads.

"Let me help you," I insisted, reaching for his hand again. This time, he didn't pull away. I took a closer look at the wound, and saw that it was deeper than I thought- it was a stab wound. A deep, ugly gash in the flesh of his palm.

I could see the edges of the wound pulling apart, a dark red ooze slowly trickling out. My stomach lurched, and I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. I tried to keep my cool, so I took a deep breath.

"I'm a nurse," I said, my voice shaking. "I can help clean and bandage the wound." I pulled out my purse and fumbled around for my first aid kit, but it wasn't there.

My stomach churned, and I felt a wave of nausea hit me like a freight train. I turned away, my cheeks flushing, and then I was vomiting on the ground.

"Oh, God," I muttered.  "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I think  you need the help more than I do,"

I half expected him to be annoyed or disgusted, but instead, he simply held my hair back and said, "Let's get you cleaned up." He led me out of the bathroom and into what I assumed was a storage room, but as we stepped inside, I realized it was a large, well-appointed office.

I stared at him in confusion, but he remained stoic and turned on the lights, revealing a stylish, minimalist space with a couch, a desk, and a door leading to another room. "The restroom is in there," he said, gesturing to the door. "I'll wait out here."

"And there's your water,"

I stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind me, leaning against it for support. I was overwhelmed by a rush of conflicting emotions: relief, gratitude, embarrassment, and even a bit of guilt. I took a deep breath and looked at myself in the mirror. Ew.

My face was red and blotchy, and there was a thin sheen of sweat on my forehead. I washed my face with cool water, trying to calm myself down. After a few minutes, I felt a little more composed and stepped out of the bathroom.

"Are you feeling better?" I nodded and thanked him.  "Now it's your turn," I said, opening my first aid kit and taking out some antiseptic wipes. "This might sting a bit." but he didn't. His face was still stoic but his eyes were closed. I arched my brow at this but I decided not to ask.

I cleaned the wound as gently as I could, trying to be quick and efficient. Once the blood was cleared away, I could see the full extent of the damage. It was a deep, jagged cut that would need stitches. I took a deep breath, trying to steel myself for what I had to do next.

"I'm going to have to stitch this up," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," he said, his voice steady and reassuring.

I took a deep breath and got to work. I numbed the area with some local anesthetic, then carefully threaded the needle and began to stitch the wound closed. I was meticulous, making sure each stitch was perfect. When I was finished, I covered the wound with a bandage.

"There," I said, standing back to survey my work. "How does it look?"

"Good, thank you."

His phone was in the queue and he told me he'd be back soon.

When he left, I decided to text the girls and tell them I was on my on home. My vision was not its best, because I was still tipsy but I tried anyway.

After bombarding me for a couple of minutes, they finally gave in and I pressed the power button on my phone.

I don't know how long I'd been waiting for the Isaan but my eyelids were too heavy, so I didn't fight them and fell into a deep sleep.