Page 120 of Cruel Knots

Moving close to me, Mikhail sets a helmet on my head and latches the strap under my chin. I’m about to automatically climb behind his bike when Leon’s voice stops me.

“Did I hurt your feelings, Lucia?” he asks, flashing me a grin. “Why don’t you come sit with me?”

“Leave her alone,” Mikhail mutters. “You’ve scared her enough already.” Glancing toward me, he gestures at me to take the seat behind his bike.

I hurriedly clamber over Mikhail’s bike. Leon’s threat is something I’m already used to. The only reason I choose to ride with Mikhail is familiarity.

All my sadness and desperation fall away as Mikhail’s bike takes off. I breathe in the cold night air and look up at the starry sky, feeling like a bird who’s flying.

Leon’s bike is right beside Mikhail’s as we fly down the nearly empty highway. My hair streams behind me in a gust of wind and dust, making me enjoy the ride fully.

It takes us almost an hour to reach downtown Ashville.

I greedily soak up the sight of nightlife on Oakland Avenue. The highly popular street is teeming with activity this late in the evening. People talk and laugh as they wait in queues outside the many pubs and clubs that populate the area. A blend of music thuds all around me, creating an atmosphere of unrestrained excitement.

Mikhail and Leon park their bikes and gesture over to me.

“Stop ogling at strangers,” Leon says, pulling on my wrist. “They’d think you’re a foreigner or some shit.”

“I’ve never been to a place like this before,” I say, gazing at the bold, shimmery dresses some of the women are wearing. “It’s so amazing. This is what I imagined college parties to be like.”

“Do you still want to go to college?” Mikhail asks as he takes my hand in his.

I nod. “I know I’m too old but it’s a life experience I don’t want to miss.”

“Your brother’s an asshole for forcing you to stay at home,” Leon says in a bitter tone. “If he cared about you, he’d see how much of a nerd you always were.”

But you saw it right away, I think silently. Despite their roughness, they never forgot the person I was. A part of me wants to erase the years between us and take us back to a time when we’d all been happy.

Lost in my thoughts, I almost don’t notice the long queue we’re breaking to reach the front doors of the club.

A neon sign proclaims it as The Hedgehog. Loud music blares through the walls, making the people in the queue break into singing and dancing at random moments.

Four bulky men in tight black t-shirts guard the doors of the club. Their cold, unfeeling eyes settle on me and I unconsciously find myself hiding behind Leon’s tall frame.

The guards move away the moment Mikhail flashes a tattoo on his wrist. He covers it up too fast for me to take a look and leads me inside.

My senses get swept away by the loud music and the blinding streaks of light scattering over the heads of a dancing crowd. I stand frozen in my spot, nervous to breach into the mass of bodies gyrating to the music.

“What do you think?” Leon shouts in my ear.

“It’s too loud!” I shout back.

He laughs but I barely hear him. Everything here is too much for my senses.

Mikhail tightens his hold on my wrist and leads me to a corner. Leon forms a solid wall on my other side, keeping strangers from colliding with me in the tight space.

I’m soon led up a staircase and onto the first floor.

My lungs seem to expand here, helping me inhale a proper breath. This floor is less crowded. Loveseat sofas are arranged around the tables here, allowing people to sit and relax instead of dancing like maniacs.

Waitresses in tight, slinky uniforms hover around, carrying trays of drinks. One of them even eye-fucks Leon as she ambles away.

“Come on,” says Mikhail. “I’m dying for a drink.”

We settle down at a table. Mikhail sits next to me while Leon takes a seat opposite us. From our vantage point, we can see the sea of people on the ground floor, dancing to the beats of a new song.

My gaze falls on a lit-up corner of the floor. About three or four men stand surrounding a pool table, drinking and taking turns.

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