Page 4 of Moth
You’ll abandon me too.
I flinch as a dull ache resonates through my right arm. I’d started to clutch it with the opposite hand without realizing it. I stop and refocus on my surroundings.
It’s too beautiful here to worry.
Neon lights bathe the room in alternating plumes of color. Yellows. Reds. Greens. They transform the space into an almost mythical realm where the clubgoers around me shift and mutate at random. A girl grinding against a male companion glows pink, then blue before appearing normal again for a split second. She catches me staring and winks, gyrating her hips.
My cheeks flame as I push my way past the dancing couple, hunting for Mara. I don’t see her over by what seems to be the only bar in the back corner. Neither do I spot her long hair swaying in the nearby vicinity. Confused, I keep going, making my way through the club. On my second trip around, I spot a flash of dark hair along a section of booths cordoned off by a neon blue velvet rope. Two massive bouncers guard the opening I assume to be the entrance, and Mara stands beyond them, inside the section.
One look at her and I stop short. Something’s wrong. Her arms are crossed, her chin jutting defiantly.
And three men eye her from various positions spread out along a row of black leather couches. I inch back a step as an invisible alarm in my brain goes off, making my chest constrict. It’s the way they’re looking at her. Like a piece of meat on display.
Ravenously.
I love you, Han.The memory plays on the fringes of my consciousness, threatening to unfold in full.No one cares about me like you do. No one…
I close my eyes. Shake my head. Ignore. But when I refocus, I find myself inching closer to that corner, straining my ears to hear above the music. This far from the DJ, and the beat isn’t anywhere near as overwhelming as before, but their voices are so loud I can understand every word. It’s as if they don’t care who might hear them.
“Your daddy’s been falling behind on paying his debts,” one of them says. A man maybe in his thirties with a goatee and thinning black hair. “Lucky for him, there are plenty of ways for what he owes to be paid off.” He strokes his chin while eyeing Mara up and down with an expression of narrowed, hungry eyes that makes my skin crawl. He zeros in on her bare collarbone and licks his lips. “I’d pay it off myself. Just ask me nicely.”
Mara says something I don’t catch because the laughter of another man cuts her off.
He’s older than the other two, his features weathered. Worn. A set of gold chains dangles from his neck, obscuring the collar of his black shirt. He sits sprawled out, his legs splayed, one hand palming the center of his dark jeans. “With a face like hers?” He purses his lips and raises a finger stacked with gold rings. “One night, tops.”
He and the first speaker laugh, trading knowing looks.
But the third man draws my attention. He’s seemingly the youngest, judging from his full head of jet-black hair, but the other two sit angled toward him. Every now and again, they glance in his direction as though to seek approval.
Rather than join in their taunts, he one-handedly tosses a small object into the air. Bright orange ombre, square-shaped… A lighter. He juggles it without looking at Mara, choosing instead to scan the room but in a way that reminds me of one of my father’s hunting dogs. Alert. On edge. Vigilant.
Absently, he swipes his free hand through his hair, revealing just how long it is—enough to brush his shoulders in jagged waves. Too long. The wayward strands obscure his eyes until it’s too late. I can only stare as they dart from some distant corner to…me.
He sits forward, snatching the lighter from the air. Then he snaps his fingers once, drawing the attention of one of the bouncers. He points at me and crooks his finger in a silent command.Come here.
A heavy hand falls over my shoulder not even a second later, shoving me forward. I don’t resist. I don’t scream. It’s like some internal switch is flipped in my head, controlling my limbs and ceasing all thought. My only driving force is instinct, which lays out a familiar framework.Don’t think. Don’t scream. Don’t fight. Obey.
As if from underwater, I hear Mara say, “Leave her out of this! This has nothing to do with her—”
“Shut the fuck up,” the man with the goatee snaps.
It’s like I blink, and I’m here—in this space without any real recollection of moving. My arm is throbbing, my breaths slowing. In some ways, it’s like falling into a well-worn routine. I go numb, turn my brain off. Endure.
You’re so fucking selfish, Han. You’ll leave me eventually, won’t you? You will…
“You wouldn’t be playing games with us, Mara?” the younger man asks, and my brain ceases every thought to fixate on him. His voice is soft, like a snake’s hiss—but deeper too, resonating with the strength of a roll of thunder. Pocketing his lighter, he gestures to me—to my bag, I realize.
One of the bouncers snatches it from my arm and hands it to him. Holding my gaze, he digs through it slowly, withdrawing its contents one by one. My journal. My pink leather wallet. A white case containing my birth control pills. My jade green pen that I borrowed from the Paper Crane, the bookstore I work at—his eyes scan the wording on it, and he scoffs. Finally, he retrieves my cell phone.
He weighs the device on the palm of his hand and then swipes through my home screen.
“What are you doing?” Mara cries, her voice higher than I’ve ever heard it. “That’s hers! Leave it alone. She has nothing to do with—”
“I’m making sure that you wouldn’t be dumb enough to do something reckless, Mara,” he says in that unnerving tone. “Like bring a little friend to record our friendly conversation.”
His cold gaze flickers from her to me and back again. “She’s not from around here,” he says as if that alone proves his suspicion. “Hanging around you. Zhang? Looks to me like a nosy little bitch.”
“She lives here,” Mara hisses, her voice hitching. “She just moved in, and she works for Mr. Zhang. I was just showing her around—”
