Page 1 of Frosted Torment

CHAPTER 1

Iclung to the toilet, feeling the urgency of another wave of last night’s drinks making a violent reappearance. Some of it splattered into my hair. I pushed my soiled hair from my face, then leaned back against the cold bathtub and closed my eyes. I tried to shut out the consequences of my actions.

“Happy birthday, Noa,” I whispered to myself, feeling a wave of bitterness.

How did I end up celebrating amidst such self-induced misery?

A low voice echoed next to me and whined, “You did this to yourself.”

“No kidding, Dos. Now hush,” I gritted through clenched teeth.

I couldn’t recall the guy’s name. But a local rugby player, my latest mistake, stayed passed out on the living room floor, oblivious. The last thing I needed was for him to think I was as unhinged as the town gossip suggested.

People often called me disturbed when they overheard me conversing with invisible entities. My three best friends were the only ones who knew I could communicate with spirits and accepted my gift. Though I had no plans to see the random guy from the bar again, I preferred that he didn’t spread rumors about my supposed instability.

Not an ideal reputation for a bookstore manager in the heart of this small town. Ever since kindergarten, I’ve had two constant companions that only I could hear and somewhat see on occasion. I didn’t know their origins when they first appeared, but their sudden presence terrified me.

Over time, their frequent visits had not dulled the shock of their arrival. They came and went on their own terms, easier to explain away as imaginary friends in childhood.

“He meant no harm, doll,” Uno’s singsong voice crooned in my ear.

Her form flickered in and out of sight as she pretended to puff on her cigarette holder. She blew a kiss at her reflection in the mirror and winked.

“Please, not now, guys.” I exhaled, feeling exhaustion seep into my bones as I kneaded my throbbing temples.

Dos’s shadowy shoulders slumped, reflecting his regret. “Happy birthday anyway,” he murmured.

I glanced at the faint outlines of what used to be human, now hovering in the doorway. “I won’t feel guilty today. Now leave,” I insisted with a dismissive wave of my hand.

Certain there was nothing left to expel, I lay on the cool floor, letting it caress my face. I sought a moment of solace amidst the chaos that surrounded me. My phone vibrated acrossthe tiles, and I shoved it away, ignoring the same call as I had done for the past three days.

As I pressed my forehead onto the floor, a stinging sensation pierced my upper lip. I rubbed it to work out the pain as another one shot up into my nose. Tears poured from my eyes. It was odd since I hadn’t felt that way since my surgery years ago.

My cleft lip felt like it was being torn apart. Then another excruciating jolt, resembling a punch to my jaw, spread across my face, and my legs couldn’t propel me to the sink fast enough. My fists came down on the counter as my knees buckled under the pain, but I caught myself on the edge of the sink.

“Motherfucker!” My voice bled through the paper-thin walls of my apartment.

My neighbor banged on the wall. “You’re always so effing loud, Noa.”

I returned the favor somewhat harder as I turned on the faucet. “Deal with it!”

Her rattled voice trailed off, and I shook my head while splashing icy water across my face, certain the entire building had heard the exchange. Water dripped down my shirt as I traced the snake-tongued scar, while a tingle played across my lips. The kind that came after sitting on my foot too long. It spread outward into my hairline, then stopped.

I blew out a puff of air waiting for another assault, but nothing else followed, so I pulled my hair into a ponytail and then peeked into the living room. The gift to myself from the previous night spread himself naked across the blanket on the floor. Still asleep, he rolled onto his back, pulling a sheet across his muscular thighs, and I caught a glimpse between his legs.

That was the reason I had let him stay. His exquisitelycarved chest remained on display like a museum statue, and his muscular arms drew me closer. As much as I craved mounting him again for one last euphoric ride, I couldn’t recall his personality or voice; not a risk I wanted to take and get turned off. That was not a birthday gift I desired.

Besides, a headache brewed at the base of my skull, so finding pain meds fast before a migraine set in was now my priority. As I dug through my bathroom drawer, I found a pill organizer that contained more colors than a crayon box. One compartment with an ‘E’ sat in the middle, and I raised my hands to the sky in praise.

It went down smooth with a gulp of whiskey straight from the bottle I’d left sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Hair of the dog and all. As I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, I peeled off my shirt and dabbed my neck and chest dry of the remaining water, then turned to check my lip in the mirror one more time.

No tears or blood, but my hands shook and my anxiety meds caught my eye where they sat unopened on the counter for months.

“Don’t do it,” Dos warned. “The pills won’t help.”

“You’re still here?” My tone came out harsher than intended.

I didn’t know if he was right, but I heeded his advice since he always cautioned against the bottle. If only he could tell me what I did need. I didn’t listen to lingering spirits, often doubting those who refused to move on, but I trusted Dos.

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