Crimson Flame
Dana still feels like a fish out of water.
It’s stupid, really. How long has he been in Oceanside? Two, maybe three years? He should’ve gotten used to all of it by now — the hazy, neon-lit nights awash with alcohol, the friendly jabs traded between long drags of cigarettes. Sometimes, the place almost seemed to exist on a different plane of reality from everywhere else, like there was some sort of barrier separating it from the rest of the world. Dana liked to think of Oceanside as the quiet, sleepy antithesis of Hollywood, though he’s often reminded of the implausibility of this little theory of his.
The gathering crowd was the first thing he’d noticed when he was making his way to The Pit. There was a strange hush in the air as they commiserated among themselves, though he could only pick up bits and pieces of conversation even as he strained his ears.
Then, it was the smell of blood, so sudden and overwhelming that it made him sick to the stomach. It was a smell he’d recognize anywhere: thick, coppery, and mingled with the petrichor of cooling asphalt. Dana really didn’t want to get any closer, especially since he was holding, but his legs seemed to move of their own accord. Step by step, they brought him closer and closer to the police line, and then, he saw her.
A flash of powder pink, mauve, then crimson. Beneath the body, the blood looked nearly black in the moonlight, oily and glistening like a puddle of tar. Dana felt the breath catch in his throat, but there he stood. Frozen. Watching. He thought he recognized her from somewhere, but… no, he knew he did.
As bruised and bloodied as the rest of her was, the girl’s face appeared strangely unmarred. In fact, if it weren’t for her wide, glassy eyes staring sightlessly up at the sky, one could even mistake the whole thing for a film set, and she the tragic heroine slain before her time.
Dana didn’t stick around for long after that. He left before the coroner showed up to take her away, but the experience had left him a little out of sorts, which was a nice way of saying it fucked him up. That probably explained why he was currently squared up inside a bathroom stall at the back of The Pit, snorting a bump of coke off the back of his hand.
The stinging sensation he feels at the back of his throat is a welcome one. That meant that it was working, that in about five minutes or so, he wasn’t going to feel like complete shit anymore. Dana doesn’t think of himself as an addict, of course. He can go without it, he can stop thinking about it. He just needs a pick-me-up every now and again.
Job done, he emerges from the bathroom stall to inspect his reflection in one of the grimy, mildew-stained mirrors. Whatever’s left on his nose he swipes off with a finger and rubs onto his gums. Waste not, want not, as the saying goes.
So he washes his hands ( because of course he washes his hands. What is he, an animal? ), a little extra pep in his step, and saunters out of the men’s room just in time to bump into Logan and the much larger figure next to him. Dana knew their names and faces, though not much else. Big Mac was another dealer this side of Oceanside. Which meant he didn’t want to piss him off. And Logan was, well, a bouncer here at The Pit. So he probably didn’t want to piss him off either, seeing as how this was one of the only places he could unwind after spending an entire day repeating the same three-word phrase over and over again because poor Molly Ringwald couldn’t get her lines straight.
He doesn’t give them much more than a nod of acknowledgement before making a beeline straight for the bar. Jed and Robin were tending the bar as usual, and Darcy was there as well. He and the baggie in his jacket were going to have a little talk with her later on.
“Busy night, huh? Looks like you guys have your work cut out for you.” He slides an elbow across the lacquered surface of the countertop, letting his temple come to a rest against his fist. The corner of his lips quirk up into a roguish smirk as he speaks. “I’ll take two shots and a Sazerac, Jed. That’s if you’re not too busy staring at Lolls over there, anyway.”
It’s stupid, really. How long has he been in Oceanside? Two, maybe three years? He should’ve gotten used to all of it by now — the hazy, neon-lit nights awash with alcohol, the friendly jabs traded between long drags of cigarettes. Sometimes, the place almost seemed to exist on a different plane of reality from everywhere else, like there was some sort of barrier separating it from the rest of the world. Dana liked to think of Oceanside as the quiet, sleepy antithesis of Hollywood, though he’s often reminded of the implausibility of this little theory of his.
The gathering crowd was the first thing he’d noticed when he was making his way to The Pit. There was a strange hush in the air as they commiserated among themselves, though he could only pick up bits and pieces of conversation even as he strained his ears.
Poor girl…
What a tragedy…
How did this happen…?
Then, it was the smell of blood, so sudden and overwhelming that it made him sick to the stomach. It was a smell he’d recognize anywhere: thick, coppery, and mingled with the petrichor of cooling asphalt. Dana really didn’t want to get any closer, especially since he was holding, but his legs seemed to move of their own accord. Step by step, they brought him closer and closer to the police line, and then, he saw her.
A flash of powder pink, mauve, then crimson. Beneath the body, the blood looked nearly black in the moonlight, oily and glistening like a puddle of tar. Dana felt the breath catch in his throat, but there he stood. Frozen. Watching. He thought he recognized her from somewhere, but… no, he knew he did.
As bruised and bloodied as the rest of her was, the girl’s face appeared strangely unmarred. In fact, if it weren’t for her wide, glassy eyes staring sightlessly up at the sky, one could even mistake the whole thing for a film set, and she the tragic heroine slain before her time.
Dana didn’t stick around for long after that. He left before the coroner showed up to take her away, but the experience had left him a little out of sorts, which was a nice way of saying it fucked him up. That probably explained why he was currently squared up inside a bathroom stall at the back of The Pit, snorting a bump of coke off the back of his hand.
The stinging sensation he feels at the back of his throat is a welcome one. That meant that it was working, that in about five minutes or so, he wasn’t going to feel like complete shit anymore. Dana doesn’t think of himself as an addict, of course. He can go without it, he can stop thinking about it. He just needs a pick-me-up every now and again.
Job done, he emerges from the bathroom stall to inspect his reflection in one of the grimy, mildew-stained mirrors. Whatever’s left on his nose he swipes off with a finger and rubs onto his gums. Waste not, want not, as the saying goes.
So he washes his hands ( because of course he washes his hands. What is he, an animal? ), a little extra pep in his step, and saunters out of the men’s room just in time to bump into Logan and the much larger figure next to him. Dana knew their names and faces, though not much else. Big Mac was another dealer this side of Oceanside. Which meant he didn’t want to piss him off. And Logan was, well, a bouncer here at The Pit. So he probably didn’t want to piss him off either, seeing as how this was one of the only places he could unwind after spending an entire day repeating the same three-word phrase over and over again because poor Molly Ringwald couldn’t get her lines straight.
He doesn’t give them much more than a nod of acknowledgement before making a beeline straight for the bar. Jed and Robin were tending the bar as usual, and Darcy was there as well. He and the baggie in his jacket were going to have a little talk with her later on.
“Busy night, huh? Looks like you guys have your work cut out for you.” He slides an elbow across the lacquered surface of the countertop, letting his temple come to a rest against his fist. The corner of his lips quirk up into a roguish smirk as he speaks. “I’ll take two shots and a Sazerac, Jed. That’s if you’re not too busy staring at Lolls over there, anyway.”
