Chapter 1- Iris
Hands slid down her body sensually, hands that belonged to someone she didn’t care enough to know. Her head thrown back as the blue lights flickered around the room, Iris’s heart beat in time to the slow sensual tone of White Mustang, by Lana Del Ray. The dance floor moved in tune to the beat, her mind a thousand miles away as she chased the calming high that came with the last sip of the alcohol bottle clutched tight in her grasp.
A hand clasped around her throat, thumb pressed a bit too hard against her flickering pulse but right now she didn’t mind the way her breath stuttered and her lungs threatened to crumble. There were thighs shoved tight against the back of her legs, a hard length fitted between her butt cheeks and a deep breathy huff echoing in her ear.
A warm body, nothing more, nothing less.
Hidden away in a bar you could visit only if you’ve been invited, Iris’s problems faded away as she tilted her head back, her long strawberry hair tangled and sweaty now as it clung to her throat and her face. She tipped the bottle and whimpered as only a few drips splattered against her lips, nothing left behind.
The stranger’s thumb slipped uncomfortably up under her jaw, an attempt to stroke it perhaps, but his nail stabbed a bit too hard and she squirmed in pain. “You drank it all, pretty thang,” he drawled. His accent was hot, the reason she’d said yes to his invitation, now that she remembered who he was. She was alone at the bar, had been for the past few nights now, though she hadn’t always been.
Her best friend pitied her when Iris informed her she didn’t get into college with the rest of their group, but instead was put on the waitlist. There were only three of them, Iris, Freddy, and Chyna, but they’ve been as thick as thieves since they met. Just a group of people who barely could stand each other but didn’t realize it until a few years went by, and by then they had no one else so they just stayed. To cling to the familiar was all Iris wanted, when all she ever had was unpredictability.
The bar was called The Pit, pretty boring in Iris’s opinion, but Chyna’s boyfriend was the DJ and she’d have been invited, along with friends, if she wanted. To be invited once meant you could come back any time you wanted, as long as you didn’t bring anyone else. It was stupid, Iris thought, however she kept coming back nonetheless. There was mystery in The Pit, if not in the bar itself but in the fact that it existed in an underground basement of a supposed abandoned apartment building.
The building itself was coated in a thick layer of grime, wear and tear made it look a bit more crooked and broken than was safe but that didn’t stop anyone from going to The Pit. And if you saw a light shining under any of the doors in the supposedly abandoned building? Well, as long as you minded your business, then no one cared.
Iris thought the building was refreshing. She grew up in the suburbs, where every house was the brightest color and there wasn’t an ounce of blemish no matter how hard you looked. Each garden was tended, the grass was so precise she wouldn’t be surprised if it was measured with a ruler and just walking to the mailbox she was forced to wave and say hello at least five times each day.
She liked the broken, dirty building that didn’t try in the least but still had ten times more character than any house on her stupid street. No one seemed to know exactly how it worked. A building like that should be out of service, but somehow the power was on and the water ran as any other. No one knew who owned the building, but they did know to stay away from the residents. A handful of hobos, Chyna had said with a roll of her eyes and a disgusted sneer. Freddy had lifted his shoe to look, just in case he stepped in something foul. Oh, how Iris hated them.
“You ignorin’ me?” Country boy asked, and sure enough Iris had been. More like she had simply forgotten he was there, because any boy would work for her when she was feeling this good. She floated on a cloud right now, and that was all that mattered.
He smelled like a campfire and looked good in his cowboy hat, Iris thought with a curt nod. That’s why I said yes to the dance. Now that he was pressed against her, however, she was starting to wish she hadn’t. Normally she wasn’t picky when she was drunk, it wasn’t like anyone stayed the night for her to see who warmed her bed anyway, but she couldn’t quite ignore the rank smell of stale beer and dip on his breath every time he leaned close to speak.
“Just wanna disappear,” Iris muttered as she dropped her bottle on the ground. It didn’t crack surprisingly enough but it did roll away fast, the stomps and swishes of everyone around her feet quickly carried it away. She stopped and stared, fascinated, wishing life could just be that easy. To drop and be whisked away, where none of her problems could touch her.
“Wanna see a magic trick?” Country boy muttered, his mouth pressed close to her ear for her to hear him over the music. She wanted to say no because it wasn’t hard to tell even in her drunken state what he’d want next, but the words were stuck in her throat. Sometimes it was hard for her to speak, afraid if she opened her mouth, all of her pain would spill out -so Iris kept quiet. Her mouth clamped shut, she closed her eyes tight enough she could see the stars as they danced with the soft blue lights that still managed to make way inside the cracks.
Iris didn’t like it but she kept quiet, her tongue shoved against the roof of her mouth. She took it all and shoved it inside her chest. She didn’t fight, didn’t disagree or agree, didn’t do a thing. Iris held it in, she was good at that.
“I’ll show you how I can make somethin’ disappear inside you, how about it, pretty thang?” As if that wasn’t nasty enough, the country boy blew against her ear. Maybe it was supposed to be seen as sexy, sensual perhaps, but all it did was make her stomach clench angrily as the scent of his breath bypassed her ear and slid hotly against her cheek, to curl painfully under her nose and linger.
Lana Del Ray put whistles in this song, and in this state of mind Iris truly thought the whistles were meant for her. As a whistle started she felt like someone was whistling to her, or perhaps she hoped someone was. Iris pulled away from the country boy to whip her head in different directions, searching for a whistle from someone she didn’t know. Iris darted between a couple and around another, the country boy’s shout quickly drowned in the beat of the song as she moved to the middle of the dance floor. Once more there were whistles, one first as she scanned to find someone, anyone, and she pulled her lips together as she whistled the second one, wondering if perhaps this time, she’d find what it was she was searching for.
She wasn’t sure what she was searching for, however, hadn’t realized until that moment that she was. The ability to go back in time, perhaps? Or maybe just a second to breathe. More than anything, if someone were to ask her right now what it was she wanted, she knew without a doubt she’d say one thing, and one thing only; to disappear. It would be better for everyone if she’d just disappear.
Iris’s phone vibrated in her pocket and she felt like she was going to be sick. She already knew who it was, and what he wanted. The same thing as always, no matter what. All she ever was, was a disappointment.
Somehow a bottle was thrust into her hands. She wasn’t sure how or even what it was, it was a murky color and it was still cold, nearly full. It burned her throat just like all the others, and that was all that mattered to her. Iris laughed drunkenly under her breath as she swayed side to side in the middle of the dance floor. It wasn’t long before another hand slid down her arm and she closed her eyes and let herself fade away to the soft sensual song as it came to an end, and shifted into another.
A turn here, a twist there, she was moved so fast she couldn’t see who was dancing with her this time. All she knew was it was a bit too fast and she was dizzy. The liquid danced inside the bottle as her stomach churned and she gasped at the sudden cold shock of the drink as it poured down her chest. “Fuck,” the man muttered under his breath, his nose curled into a disgusted sneer. “You reek, nasty.”
She wasn’t quite sure why she felt so instantly embarrassed about that. Who the hell was he anyway for her to care what he thought? However, her cheeks flushed and she sprinted toward the door faster than her stomach liked. The Pit had bathrooms, of course it did, but they were always full. A line longer than the line to get inside, and usually they were occupied for an hour at least while those who took pills took partners into the bathrooms and used them to relieve their tension.
Perhaps she should have gone home, but the constant vibration in her pocket rejected that idea. Chyna would have been the second option but she told Iris she was a drunk and she was tired of seeing it. Freddy was practically Chyna’s parrot, whatever she said he copied, so of course he agreed with her. The thing that hurt Iris the most was the fact that deep down, she knew they were right.
To ignore the residents of the abandoned building was one of the main unspoken rules in The Pit, but right now all Iris cared about was the way the alcohol made her shirt stick to her skin and how she couldn’t quite stop shivering. The apartment building wasn’t too tall, it was a smaller older one that only had two floors. Iris suspected The Pit used to be a basement with washing and dryer machines in it for the residents, before the bar was created. Truthfully, it wasn’t the first time Iris walked the halls.
The very first night Chyna and Freddy took her to The Pit they were kind, or as kind as two jerks could be. Let’s go spy on the regulars, Chyna had said with a soft giggle as she nearly bounced up the stairs. The first they’d found was a teenaged couple, the girl was pregnant, runaways most likely. Another was a single woman who had been sitting in her chair asleep in front of her TV.
There had been an old man who was drunk and walked around moaning, they had walked right past him and he never seemed to notice them. Then there was one room where the door was locked. The furthest room from the rest, but a light on told them someone stayed there.
They gave up and forgot all about the strange hobos until now. Iris probably resembled the drunk moaning man right now as she staggered from one door to the next, trying to open them. She banged on one, then the other, but all of the doors were locked.
All of them, except one; the door that had been locked before.
With a disgusted sigh, Iris stepped inside and closed the door. Her fingers curled tight in her shirt, she tried to pull the sticky material away from her skin as she lifted her gaze to a surprising sight. For a hobo, the room was beautiful. Light and bright colored, it had a peaceful tranquil feel to it. There was a shifting sound that came from the kitchen, as if someone was shaking a bowl of popcorn, and she wasn’t surprised when she saw the lights were dim and the TV was set to view a movie.
The greatest showman, she thought as she took a step toward it. My favorite movie. There was a flutter of clangs in the kitchen and if she was sober she probably would have ran back out the door, but she was curious to know who lived in this place they had missed before. Quietly she walked around the corner into the kitchen, and blinked. Blinked again, and screamed.
There was indeed a bowl of popcorn, and a cabinet door that was slowly shutting. However she’s never quite seen a bowl of popcorn just floating in the air, no person in sight. There was a sharp gasp from somewhere, Iris couldn’t see who, and the bowl fumbled. In her eyes she could see how a pair of hands would fumble it, the way they’d grab it again before they dropped it, even how it would be slid onto the counter safely out of the way. Though this wasn’t in her mind and there weren’t any hands, no skin or bones, no person in sight.
Once more Iris screamed as she took a step back, her eyes wide as she scanned each surface of the seemingly empty kitchen. Then, “What the fuck? Who are you? Get the hell out of here!”
Iris sucked in a sharp breath as she backed away, her hands raised as she flung them wide, to fend off the invisible person who was screaming at her. The voice was clearly a male’s, and he was angry. Everything that would make sense, surely, if there was actually a person there.
Terrified, Iris turned on her heel and fled in the opposite direction, or she attempted to anyway. Her quick turn was followed by a sharp crack as her heel broke and she went tumbling to the side. Iris’s head smacked into the counter hard and fast, and as the darkness fell on her the last thing she heard was that man’s voice cursing sharply under his breath, and then nothing at all.
