The Hell Flower

The Hell Flower #5

"Let's bury him in the garden at home," declared Victoria. "Let's put it back in that bag for now-"

"No," Dahlia interjected. "Not... Not the bag."

Helen, who had read her lips, glanced up at Victoria, and nodded strongly in agreement. Victoria sighed.

"Fine, no bag. I'll ask Carmen, they probably got some boxes for deliveries or something they can spare..."

A few minutes later, the cat was put in a cardboard box, and stored in Victoria's car for them to bury later that night, but they hadn't left the bar. Dahlia had felt guilty for ruining their friends' night out, so she'd insisted they stay at the pub a bit longer, at least until they finished their drinks. The news about the dead cat hadn't spread in the bar, as Victoria had told the two girls to shut up about it, so the party was still going strong. The bar had gotten even more crowded, and more people were up dancing than sitting. Her heart wasn't there, though. She watched Victoria and Helen dance together, but her mind was still in that back street. How had she known? Why did those kinds of things always happen to her? Would it ever stop? Even in a big crowd like this, she felt lonely, and isolated. She smiled at her friends every now and then, acting like she was alright, but she couldn't shake off that feeling that she was a foreigner, an alien walking amongst normal people. She tightened her arms around herself.

"Hi there."

A guy had approached her, with a smile on. Dahlia nodded politely.

"You alone?" he asked.

"My friends are dancing," Dahlia said, pointing towards the crowd Helen and Victoria were in.

"Oh, cool," he said, barely glancing. "You're... Are you a celebrity or something?"

"Excuse me?" Dahlia said, confused.

"I'm sure I've seen you before! My friends and I have a bet going on, I'm sure I've seen you before. Are you famous?"

"No, I'm not," Dahlia shook her head, trying to show in her attitude she wasn't interested in pursuing that conversation.

"No, seriously! I know I've seen you somewhere! Are you sure you're not... You know, famous in some particular area? Like, maybe online or something..."

It took a few seconds for Dahlia to get what he was grossly trying to hint at. When she did, his nasty attitude left her speechless. She wanted to slap that smirk off his face! He glanced back at a corner where his two friends were visibly in on the amusement, gawking at her.

"I am not a p**n actress," Dahlia hissed. "And even if I were, it would be none of your damn business!"

"Oh come on, I'm just trying to figure it out! You're pretty, so I thought, with that figure and that nice lipstick you've got on... Hey, it's a compliment, love! There's a lot of lesbians in that business, and I-"

"You should go," Dahlia spat. "You and your friends should leave."

"I was just asking!" he said, lifting his hands in the air. "It's all in good fun!"

"I'm not amused, you're just being awfully rude, and I don't know you. Last warning, just go," Dahlia insisted, now getting nervous. "...Or you're going to regret it."

"Oh, you're trying to scare me?" the guy chuckled. "You know what, you're cute when you're mad! It's cool, we're all friends here!"

But Dahlia knew there was nothing cute about her being upset. Her warning was very real, and if that guy didn't stop very soon, something would happen, and she had no control over it...

"What the f**k's going on?"

Victoria appeared at her side, and grabbed the guy by the collar, pulling him away from Dahlia as he'd gotten too close. Helen stepped on her other side, taking her hand with an interrogating look.

"We-we were just talking!" the guy exclaimed, visibly taken aback by Victoria's anger and height. "I-I just asked a polite question, and your friend got a little upset, that's all..."

"A polite question, uh? What the hell did he say?" Victoria turned to Dahlia, visibly running out of patience.

Dahlia quickly told her what had happened, Helen's eyes riveted on her lips too. When she was done, Helen glared at the boy, giving him a middle finger that was a pretty universal sign. Victoria scoffed.

"Woah. The f*****g nerve... I've never seen you, who the f**k let you dickheads in here?"

"I didn't mean to insult anybody!" the guy tried to defend himself. "I-I have a lot of respect for LGBT people, I have a lot of gay friends..."

"Shut up, mate, you're digging your hole deeper. First, shut up about LGBT people, and shut up about lesbians if you don't want me to out your ugly little personality to everyone here, trust me, that'd get nasty real quick. Second, all professions deserve respect, and you don’t get to harass my friend like that and comment about her body when she told you to piss off, twice, to amuse your small-d**k friends. Last, you just ruined my evening and yours. You messed with the wrong person mate, so I kindly advise you to piss off real quick before something bad happens to ya."

"Is that a threat?" the guy scoffed.

He tried to act tough, but his composure slowly disappeared under Victoria's glare. She smirked.

"It's a warning. Leave, and never come to this bar again. If I see your stupid face again, I won't let you off so kindly. That one was a threat."

Then, she put two fingers to her mouth and let out one sharp, loud whistle, catching literally everyone's attention above the music. All heads turned to them in one movement, and the guy turned white.

"Mac!" Victoria yelled above the music. "Get that asshole and his friends out of here!"

Then, she pushed the guy towards the entrance. She hadn't needed to push him hard, as the crowd split in two, and they all stepped aside to let him through to the exit, glaring at the guy. They needn't know what happened; they had seen and heard Victoria kick him out, which was enough for them all. His friends were even grabbed and ushered behind him to leave, Mac picking up the three of them at the entrance. Dahlia didn't hear what he was telling them as everyone had started dancing again as soon as they were out, but she could guess they wouldn't dare appear again. She was far from relieved, though. She knew things wouldn't end so easily.

"Dhalia, you alright?" Victoria put a hand on her shoulder, visibly worried for her.

"Yeah, yeah... He was just rude. I'm good."

She was nervous. There was that itch at the back of her mind that it wasn't over. That this guy had harassed her for one minute too long for his own sake. Nevertheless, she tried to act the part and convince the other two, building up a fake smile, but the mood was ruined for good. Neither of them bought it, and soon enough, Helen signed for them to go home, and Victoria agreed.

"Let me just say bye to Carmen and the girls," said Victoria, her thumb jerking somewhere behind her. "See you at the car in a few minutes, and then we'll get home and bury the kitty. Helen, you drive."

She gave her car key to Helen, who'd drunk the least, and headed off to the bar. Meanwhile, Helen quickly signed across the room to say bye to her friend. Then she took Dahlia's hand, and they tried to make it to the exit. Unfortunately, they had to walk through the crowd of excited dancers to reach it, having to step left and right to avoid elbows.

"Sister!"

As they were swimming across the crowd, a guy appeared out of nowhere in front of Dahlia, with messy shoulder-length brown hair and a drunken smile. He extended long arms around her head and suddenly hugged her out of the blue. Spotting this, the girl right behind them immediately opened her eyes wide and grabbed him.

"Oy!" she chuckled, visibly half-amused. "Quit it!"

"But it's my sister!" the guy giggled.

"Yeah, yeah, sure Dion, her, and everyone else... Come on, let go, babe. Sorry love, he's not mean, mate's just kite-high. Wouldn't hurt a fly."

Dahlia could tell, as she was usually wary of men, but hadn't felt threatened at all by that boy. Perhaps because he was surprisingly skinny despite being tall, and had weighed almost nothing on her. Plus, he had a carefree expression, like a child, and was hovering strangely, regardless of the music. As she stepped away, Dahlia noticed he had flowers in his hair, now that he was hugging the other girl like a purring kitten.

"Bye-bye," he chuckled when she walked past him, making her smile for some reason.

Helen reappeared and grabbed her hand, pulling her through the crowd again. Just a minute later, they finally reached Mac, who gave them a nod as they made it out. There was now a little queue waiting to be let inside the already crowded bar. Dahlia let out a relieved sigh, glad to be out again. By the time they had reached the car, though, her spirits had become gloomy again. She pressed Helen's hand shortly before letting it go.

"I'm sorry," Dahlia signed before they got into the car.

"Why?"

"I ruined it."

Helen rolled her eyes.

"You didn't! The music wasn't that good anyway," she signed with a wink. "Get in."

Dahlia didn't protest anymore, and took the back seat, next to the box with the deceased cat, while Helen adjusted the driving seat. Victoria arrived a minute later, and they drove off. Nobody spoke for a little while, and it seemed like the fatigue was weighing down on them. Checking the car's clock, Dahlia realized they'd spent over an hour there. She knew they would have stayed much longer if it wasn't for the cat and that guy... Both because of her. She sighed and glanced outside the window. The sun had barely begun setting, and they were already going home. It was her fault...

Suddenly, she felt something happening. Victoria straightened, and Helen tapped her leg.

"I see it, love. Stop the car," she said while tapping the hand brakes.

Helen did. They were stopped by some blinding cop car's lights, and a policeman standing with his hand open. Dahlia felt ice falling down her stomach.

"Oh no."

"You two stay inside," said Victoria, with a tone that allowed no refusal.

She quickly took off her seat belt and got out of the car. Most cops wouldn't have taken lightly to someone just walking up to them to inquire, but Victoria being Victoria, she was soon chatting with the cop. Beyond the lights, Dahlia was already seeing what she'd feared; a car upside-down in the middle of the road, smoke coming from it. An emergency vehicle drove past them to stop at the accident site. Dahlia felt dizzy, but waited until Victoria was back inside the car.

"It's those dickheads from earlier," she admitted, glancing at Dahlia in the rearview mirror.

"Are they...?" Dahlia asked, her mouth dry.

"They're alive, just a big scare. I'll call the cops tomorrow morning to inquire. Let's go, babe."

Helen nodded and did a U-turn to take another way home. In the back seat, Dahlia was in shock.

"...It's not a coincidence," she muttered, on the verge of tears.

"They were drunk, Dahlia," Victoria retorted, looking at her in the rearview mirror. "They smelled like booze already in the bar, and they drove drunk and angry. The cops said they were conscious. Apparently, something ran in front of them on the road, their drunk asses had a bad reflex. It's not your fault. Don't you start saying s**t. If anything, it's probably karma. I'll call my nurse friend tomorrow morning to ask if she can inquire about them, but I bet you my Audi that they were drunk as hell."

"Still, it's not a coincidence," Dahlia repeated. "Vic, every time something happens to me, something like that happens. Like six months ago..."

"Oh my God, stop saying that!" Victoria exclaimed. "The guy who harassed you and Helen was a junkie! Even the cops confirmed he had a cardiac arrest, you guys didn't do anything wrong! And don't get me started on the one that stalked you. The guy was crazy. You heard him yourself, I don't think jumping off that building was that far-fetched, given how mad the lad was."

But those weren't the only ones, Dahlia thought.

When she was six, a boy who had punched her broke his arm the next day. In middle school, a girl who had taken to harassing her brutally fell down the stairs and was hospitalized for months, until after the end of the term. Two years later, a boy who had initiated a game of lifting girls’ skirts had his hands horribly burned by a class experiment just an hour after he'd done it to Dahlia. Not only that, but the teacher of that class, who didn't like Dahlia for some reason and was always belittling her, had been designated responsible and fired. When she was sixteen, a drunk driver driving way above the speed limit almost ran her and Sam over on a pedestrian walk. But instead of hitting them, his car suddenly went off-road, and met his end brutally by crashing into a building. He died on the spot. And that was not the last of it. During her freshman year, a guy on a bike had tried to steal the bag with her laptop inside. He had just reached the next crossroad when he brutally crashed into a car, and Dahlia miraculously got her laptop back, perfectly fine in her bag, while the guy was taken away by the ambulance; he survived with life-long injuries. Just weeks after she'd met Helen, the two of them were attacked by a junkie outside a small shop when they'd gone to grab late-night snacks. The man had threatened them with a knife, asking for money, before suddenly dropping dead at their feet. A few months later, an older student she didn't know had started appearing too often around Dahlia, insisting he'd seen her before. The guy had been persistent, appearing at her classes, calling her multiple times daily, and following her to their flat. They'd reported him, but nothing had been done until the guy had been found dead, having jumped off one of the students' accommodations. While interrogated by the police, Dahlia had learned that hundreds of pictures of her were found in his room and on his laptop. Since she and every possible person involved had an alibi, the police had concluded it was a suicide.

Not only was Dahlia used to attracting weird things and people, but she had realized those who actively attacked her always got the most violent retribution. There was no way she could think of this new accident as something like a mere coincidence.

"Dahlia, stop overthinking," Victoria insisted. "Those guys will be fine. We will go home, bury the kitty, and get some herbal tea. I texted Sam, too. She'll be home soon."

Dahlia grimaced. She didn't want to hide things from Sam, but she knew this would only worry her friend more. Because she'd been by her side for so long and knew about all of those events, Sam was always worried about Dahlia, and reluctant to let her be on her own. Even tonight, Dahlia knew Sam had only let her go to the party because Helen and Victoria would be with her.

"You were with us the whole time," Victoria continued. "Nothing's your fault, hun."

Nothing else was said until they arrived home. There was light in Clara's room, but she didn't come down to greet them. First thing, the three of them gathered in the garden, picking an isolated spot to bury the cat. It didn't take long, and they just did it in respectful silence. When they were done, Helen joined her hands in silent prayer and then smiled at Dahlia.

"Kitty's on to its next life now," she signed.

Dahlia nodded, and they went back inside. She didn't feel much better, but at least she was home. Everything was fine... She decided to change into her pajamas, bid good night to the girls and get up to her room with her herbal tea. She sat on her bed, her eyes on the window, staring at that spot in which they'd buried the cat. How? How did she know? Why was she like this? Why did death and violence always follow her everywhere?

As she stared into the garden, she noticed a silhouette standing in the street beyond their fence. Dahlia hesitated and got closer to the window. It was standing in a dark corner, but she was sure of it. There was someone there, looking back at her. Her heartbeat fastened. Who was it? Why were they watching her? It couldn't be another stalker, could it? She tried to squint her eyes, but suddenly, it vanished.

Just then, the sound of keys was heard from downstairs. Sam was home.