Chapter 11

Belle reapplied her make-up using the works bathroom mirror. She kept her eyes low until it was time to apply the kohl liner and she was forced to look herself in the eye.

Memories of that boy flooded her brain. Every time she looked at her face, she saw his, crumbling as she issued her crushing rejection.

Each time she tried to think about something else, anything else, but his face would always appear. His sad blue eyes, messy dyed-black hair, and stereotypical snake-bite piercings.

When he'd asked her out, her response had been laughter followed a verbal bashing.

She'd been trying to make her workmates laugh. And they had. Vigorously.

'I need to apologize,' she realized. She'd been meaning to, but the boy hadn't returned since and she had no way to contact him. She didn't even have as much as a first name.

Giving her lips a last coating of burgundy, Belle left the toilets, determined not to be late back to her post. She didn't want the team leader—Gary—getting on her case again. He gave her the creeps every time he called her into his sweaty little box of an office.

As she rushed to her station, Belle caught a glimpse of rainbow-colored hair.

'That's one of his friends,' Belle thought, abandoning her position at the till to chase the colorful head of hair into the street.

"Excuse me," she said, patting the girl on the shoulder.

"Erm, yeah?" the girl asked. She was a petite and pretty girl, with a grungy punk-rock style, yet she wore an Aborted t-shirt.

"Cool band," Belle commented.

"Yeah, I saw them in Sheffield last summer," the girl responded, face contorted in confusion.

"Erm, anyway, your friends with the goth kid with the snakebites, right?" Belle asked, getting back on track.

"Damien." The girl nodded.

'Of course, his name is Damien,' Jess scoffed to herself.

"I really want to talk to him. You don't have his number do you?" Belle asked.

The girl looked unsure for a moment but still fished her phone from her backpack and read out the number.

After reading it back to confirm, she thanked the girl and rushed back to find Gary standing at her till glancing down at his watch.

'Who even wears a watch anymore, you sad prick,' Belle thought. Gary was one of those people who tried to be cool and different buy not owning a phone. He was neither cool nor different.

"Sorry, Gary, I had something important to do," she explained, plastering a false smile over her annoyance.

'Get out of my face,' she thought, giving him the sweetest smile she could manage.

"Try to be back from your breaks on time. It isn't fair on the other staff if they constantly have to cover for you."

'Yeah, because we are so busy,' she thought, looking about the empty store. There wasn't even any cleaning to do. The rows of shelves and pale blue carpet were both spotless.

"Sorry. I'll try to be more punctual."

When he finally left, she turned to Hester and made a puking face. Both girls collapsed into giggles. She turned back as a customer approached and almost screamed when she saw Damien's face. The face that had been haunting her dreams as well as playing on her waking mind.

He was taller than she remembered. And not as dorky looking.

"Greta said you asked for my number," he said.

"I did," Belle said.

When a line of customers appeared from nowhere, her boyfriend Drew joined them behind the till to help out, but he was more focused on Belle's conversation than his own transaction.

"I wanted to talk to you, in person preferably," Belle explained.

"Well, here I am... in person," he snarked.

"Would you meet me after work? At five?" she asked.

"Why?" he asked.

His blank face and cold voice sent a chill down her spine. As she fumbled for a response her eyes lingered on his necklaces. The same pentagram he'd been wearing that day, accompanied by an eye of Horus and a horned god. She recognized the symbols from her sister's witchcraft books.

Initially, she'd assumed the boy was attempting the Satanist aesthetic because he thought it would make him appear edgy. She now saw this wasn't the case.

'Did I misjudge this boy when I called him a Goth-by-numbers?'

"Well... because I want to talk to you." Belle frowned.

"I'm standing right here," Damien spat. He raised his arms and jutted out his chin; an indication for her to speak. "Well, you have a mouth, and you know how to use it."

"E—erm," Belle stammered, thrown off by his anger and sarcastic tone. He was a completely different kid to the shy little boy who'd asked her out.

"Take the bass out your voice," her boyfriend warned the lad once he'd taken payment from his customer. The customer made a face and shrugged as she exited the store.

Damien didn't even look at Drew.

"Well?" he persisted in the same dark tone.

Belle shifted and fumbled to find the game disc as customer barged past Damien and plonked the case on her till. She became flustered as the queue grew longer in the after-school rush.

"I'll text you. Okay?" she asked.

"Do what you want, but don't expect me to answer. I gave you a chance to talk," Damien said and walked off.

She continued to serve the never-ending string of customers, acutely aware of the questioning looks Drew and Hester were casting in her direction.

Telling Drew about her problem wasn't an option. How could she explain to him that this boy had been on her mind consistently for the past few days and nights? It sounded messed up at best and Drew might jump to jealousy-fueled conclusions.

"Wasn't that the gimpy goth kid who asked you out?" Drew asked.

Belle nodded.

"What did he want?" Drew asked.

Belle shrugged. "Erm, nothing really. It's not important."

"It looked important," he persisted.

"Well, it wasn't," Belle told him and rolled her eyes.

It was obvious from the look on his face that this wasn't the end of the conversation. He wasn't going to drop it.

"I'll tell you later," she promised. That would give her enough time to think up a suitable lie.

When the rush of customers tapered off, Belle snuck off to the toilets to text Damien.

"Please will you meet me at 5:10?" she asked.

She went to put her phone back in her locker, but at the last minute decided to switch it to silent and hide it in her pocket. Others did this, and a few had been called out for it, but as Gary was in his office doing the rotas so she should be safe.

"Are you coming to the club after work?" Drew asked. He was referring to the Indigo Shark, a rock club his band occasionally played at. Their friend Joseph was the manager so he could get away with being off his face on pills and acting like a next level jerk.

Belle shook her head without looking at him, still angry about his behavior on their last visit. Drew was an idiot when he drank, but he was worse when he took pills.

"Why? Are you meeting the baby goth?" Drew snarked.

"I don't fancy watching you get off your tits and flirting with other girls again," she shot back.

"Oh, come off it." Drew tutted. "I told you Mikki is an old mate."

Mikki was, in fact, his ex-girlfriend and she was obviously still in love with him. This development would have torn her apart in a jealous fit of rage had she not been too busy thinking about Damien. Drew should be thanking the boy.

Taking the opportunity to storm into the stock room, Belle checked her phone.

Still no reply.

She texted him again.

"Please will you meet me? Please?"

She stared down at her phone for a moment, willing it to beep with a reply. Sighing, she pocketed it and returned to her station and of course it beeped the second she was back at the till. Sod's law and all that.

Looking left and right, she took a sneaky peek at her message.

"I'll be at the skatepark."

The clock seemed to be ticking slower than usual as Belle stared at those little black hands. She was sure the clock ran slow, and that Gary had set it that way to keep them extra minute. As soon as five O'clock hit she dropped everything and ran, not even stopping to say goodbye to her friend or boyfriend.

The skatepark was on the outskirts of the town and the game shop was in the center, so she would have to run the entire way there if she wanted to make it for 5:10. There was a very real possibility he would be there all night, but she didn't want to risk him leaving and have to wait another night to speak to him.

Aside from anything else, the guilt was giving her the most depressing nightmares. The special kind of nightmare that stayed with you after you woke, infecting you with its gloom and following you like a dark cloud.

Out of breath, red and sweaty, she burst through the gates of the park. Damien was sliding back and forth of his skateboard, laughing with a group of his friends when she approached.

As a group, they stopped what they were doing and looked up at her. Surprisingly, his friends didn't share his dark style. A couple of boys who looked like they might be a couple, an Indian lad with amber colored eyes and a beautiful girl who looked like she'd fit in her school's popular clique.

"Can I have a word with you?" she asked Damien.

"Go ahead," Damien said, throwing out his arms in theatrical fashion.

Belle glanced around the group, taking in their eager, gossip-hungry faces.

"Please can we speak in private?" she asked.

The boy shook his head. She couldn't blame him after all, she had humiliated him in front of her friends.

"I want to apologize for how I treated you. I shouldn't have laughed at you. My behavior was awful and... I just feel terrible about it. I want you to know how sorry I am.

She made a pointed effort to look him in the eyes as she gave her speech, though it was difficult. Her eyes took a brief respite, glancing at each of his friends to find them wearing identical expressions. Oddly, their faces were pictures of wonderment, as though she were the Angel Gabriel appearing before them to give news on the birth of Christ.

Only Damien wore a different expression, one of utter contempt. This was a waste of time. There was no chance of him ever forgiving her.

"Erm, I know it's too little too late, but I had to say something," Belle explained.

"Okay," Damien said.

She hoped he would go on, tell her it was okay, that the apology was accepted or at the least appreciated.

"Erm, okay," she said, unable to linger any longer without her presence becoming weird. "Right. I'll leave you to it then."

His friends hadn't laughed at her. They hadn't mocked or jeered as her own friends had done to Damien. Yet, something about their reaction was unnerving. She could hear them whispering as she walked away, talking in hushed yet excited tones.

'I thought apologizing would make me feel better,' she thought. And for a brief moment, it had. Yet, as the distance between herself and Damien built up the horrible feeling grew, like a dark tumor sprawling its tendrils into every corner of her psyche.

'At least I might not have the nightmare tonight.'