Frozen

by L. A. Casey

  I was right; it was a small storage room.

  I reached inside the dark room, placed my palm flat on the cold wall, and moved my hand around in search of a light switch, but decided against it in case Darcy came home earlier than expected and saw the light. Just as I dropped my hand, the low hissing came from behind me again. I jumped with fright and spun around.

  “What is that?” I whispered.

  I stepped closer to the dark cover and carefully reached out with my hand. I hesitated when I touched the cover, but without a second’s thought I pulled it and gasped when something began flapping about in a cage.

  It made a noise that instantly identified the creature as a bird.

  A memory hit me then of Sean telling my mother that Darcy had bought an African grey parrot. The parrot continued to hiss at me and it freaked me out. I didn’t know birds could bloody make noises like that.

  “Shhh,” I whispered. “Be quiet.”

  “Shut up,” the bird said, then made the creepy noise again.

  I froze to the spot and stared at the bird.

  Was I losing my mind or did that bird just say what I think it did?

  “What did you just say?” I asked.

  “Water . . . You want some waterrr, baby girl?” the bird chirped.

  I narrowed my eyes. “That’s not what you said before.”

  “Nealaaaaa.”

  I stood rooted to the spot, and blinked.

  The bird said my name.

  “How do you know me name?” I asked, even more freaked out.

  “Fuck off, Neala!”

  What the hell?

  “Be quiet!” I hissed and pointed my finger at the bird.

  The bird hissed back. “Darcy, Darcy, Darcy.”

  Oh, my God.

  The bird was ratting me out.

  “Shhh, you little bollocks!” I snapped, and thumped the cage.

  It was a bad idea, because the bird went fucking crazy and squawked like it was being murdered.

  “I’m sorry,” I pleaded in a whisper, “Please be—”

  I froze midsentence when the light in the kitchen was suddenly flicked on.

  “What are you doing, Clarke?”

  Oh Christ.

  I screamed with fright and stumbled backwards until I tripped and fell flat on my arse into the storage room. I groaned as I looked up, and widened my eyes when Darcy’s half-naked body came into view.

  “You know I heard you coming up the driveway, right? I unlocked the back door so you wouldn’t freeze to death.”

  I couldn’t believe it.

  What the hell was he doing here?

  Darcy grinned. “Don’t look so surprised; you weren’t exactly quiet, Neala.”

  I shook my head and opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  Darcy chuckled. “Cat got your tongue? I’m sure an hour or two in here will change your mind.”

  What?

  “What are you— Darcy!”

  He closed the door of the storage room and turned the lock.

  “Use this time to think about what you’ve done.”

  “Darcy!” I screamed. “Let me out or I’ll fucking kill you!”

  “Goodnight, Neala.” Darcy laughed.

  He left. The bastard left me locked in his kitchen storage room. I was going to kick his arse when I got out of here.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  DARCY! LET! ME! OUT!”

  I opened my eyes and smiled.

  “Music, sweet music.” I beamed.

  I heard Neala scream in anger as she began to beat on the storage room door for the tenth time in the last few hours. I was originally just going to play a trick on her and leave her in the storage room for only a few minutes, but she cursed and banged on the door for a solid thirty minutes, and to be honest, I wasn’t opening the door while she was in that state. She would have just attacked me.

  I did eventually open the door when she stopped banging and screaming, an hour after I’d put her in there, and I found her rolled up on the storage room floor lying on multiple tea towels, snoring like an old man. I didn’t want to move her for the simple reason that my hourly trips to the bathroom were her fault – I had no proof, but I knew she had given me diarrhoea – and I wanted her to suffer a little. I didn’t want her to get sick, though – I wasn’t as heartless as she was – so I got my spare duvet cover and some pillows and put them in the room with her during the night.

  She didn’t move a muscle while I tucked her in, probably because she was exhausted from hiking up to my house in below-freezing weather wearing only a dress, blazer, and high heels while it was snowing. The girl wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box.

  “Darcy!” Neala bellowed once more from my kitchen.

  I sighed and got up from my bed. I stretched, then put on a pair of comfy trousers.

  I shook my head just thinking about last night. After shitting myself I’d spent thirty minutes cleaning up my bathroom, and bagging my soiled clothes and cleaning rags.

  I threw them out into my bin out back, and that was when I heard the little criminal cursing up a storm in my driveway. She was wearing the wrong clothes to break into someone’s house when it was snowing outside, and she was so loud I could hear her from the back of my house.

  Stealth definitely wasn’t her forte.

  I couldn’t call her too much of an idiot, though; she had managed to pull one over on me and make me shit myself. I don’t think my pride will ever recover from that moment that she caused.

  My stomach had only settled around five o’clock this morning. Unfortunately my arsehole still felt like it was in the fiery pits of Mount Doom, except I didn’t have to trek to Mordor.

  Oh, and if having crippling stomach pain and a flaming arsehole wasn’t enough, my nose suffered terribly with the smell that had taken up residence in my bathroom.

  I had gone through two bottles of bleach and a whole can of air freshener, and the smell of death still lingered in the room. I’d closed the bathroom door and had to leave the built-in ceiling fan on all night as an added method to air the room out. The smell might never leave, though – I wouldn’t be surprised if it moulded onto every surface at the molecular level.

  I’m sure that’s what Neala wanted in the first place.

  “The vile specimen,” I muttered as I exited my bedroom and walked down the hallway to my kitchen and Neala’s temporary prison.

  I opened the kitchen door and winced when the love of my life made a whimpering sound.

  “Baby girl, what’s wrong?” I asked, and rushed over to my African grey parrot.

  She was my baby – she was seven years old and the boss of my house.

  “Darcy, is that you? Open the door and let me out; the bird is driving me bleeding mad!”

  I ignored Neala, opened the birdcage, and stroked my baby’s chest when she climbed onto my hand.

  “What’s wrong with you, Einstein?” I asked.

  I heard a frustrated wail come from the storage room.

  “I told you, I want you to—”

  “I wasn’t talking to you, Neala. I was talking to me bird.” I cut Neala off as I continued to stroke Einstein’s chest.

  Neala was silent for a moment; then she laughed.

  “You called your parrot Einstein? Why?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but Einstein cut me off.

  “Shut up, Neala.”

  I beamed and scratched my Einstein’s head. I glanced at the storage room door, then laughed. Neala had gone silent in her makeshift prison.

  “I named her Einstein because she is very smart, as you can tell.”

  More silence.

  I smiled smugly. “What’s the matter, Neala? Why are you quiet all of a sudden?”

  I could practically feel her mind turning as she thought.

  “You taught your bird to tell me to shut up?” she asked, low.

  I taught her much more than that.

  I simply laughed and said, “Yeah.”
<
br />   “Why?”

  I shrugged even though she couldn’t see me.

  “I thought it would be funny for Einstein to tell you off if you ever came up here, and I was right. It’s hilarious. This prank was set in motion years ago.”

  Neala banged on the door in outrage.

  “You’re a class A arsehole!”

  I couldn’t disagree with that statement.

  “Waterrr . . . apple.”

  I looked down to Einstein and lifted my hand up so she could get on top of her cage and nibble on the fruit that I’d put onto different sections of her cage yesterday. She had access to her water bottle there, too.

  I turned away from Einstein and walked over to the storage room, where I paused as I reached for the door handle.

  “Promise you won’t attack me if I open the door.”

  Neala laughed.

  “That doesn’t give me any reason to let you out, Neala.”

  She quieted down and muttered, “Okay, I won’t hit you.”

  She didn’t sound the least bit truthful.

  “Try again, and this time make me believe you.”

  I could feel Neala’s hate for me radiate through the storage room door, and it only caused me to grin. The next while after she was free from the storage room would be interesting, that was for damn sure.

  “Darcy,” Neala started, “please let me out of this storage room. I promise not to attack you if you do.”

  It was forced, but possibly honest.

  “Okay, good enough.”

  I leaned forward, turned the lock on the door and pressed down on the handle. I had every intention of apologising for keeping her in the storage room and explaining why I had done what I did, but suddenly all of my thoughts went out the window, and I jumped back like I had been burned when the door was kicked open and a disoriented and wild Neala emerged.

  She squinted at the light in the room and lifted her hands to shield her eyes from the beams. She lowered them only after she blinked a few times and allowed her eyes to adjust. When her vision was clear, she quickly glanced around the room. The moment her eyes landed on me I tensed. Her eyes were narrowed and her teeth were now bared. She gripped a tea towel that was in her hand and hissed at me.

  Fuck.

  She was fuming mad.

  “You promised!” I yelped, and stumbled backward.

  Neala’s eyes bored into mine as she rolled the tea towel in her hand as tightly as she could and snarled, “I lied.”

  Oh, shite.

  “What are you going to do with the tea tow— Ow!”

  I looked down to my leg and gritted my teeth. She’d whipped my thigh with the tea towel, and it bloody hurt!

  A lot.

  “You locked me in your storage room all night; you practically held me hostage!” Neala snarled, her eyes wild with rage.

  I held my hands up in front of my chest and slowly started to back away from her and toward my escape – the kitchen door.

  “You broke into me house, and you gave me the runs – that outdoes anything I’ve done to you in the last twelve hours!” I snapped right back.

  Neala hesitated in advancing on me; she folded her arms across her chest and grinned impishly. “I knew you would take those drinks from your ma and down them. It was a beautiful thing to watch, really.”

  Holy crap.

  The deception hit me like a freight train.

  “You drafted me mother onto your side?” I accused.

  How bloody dared she co-opt my unknowing mother into her villainous scheme? That woman had birthed me!

  “No, not necessarily.” Neala smirked, her face a mask of wickedness. “I paid one of the bartenders to give us the wrong drinks; I only suggested to your ma that you liked whiskey and would be glad of both of them. It was a piece of cake. Your ma didn’t want them to go to waste, and since I knew none of the women at the table would drink them I knew she would do as I suggested and bring the drinks to you.”

  I narrowed my eyes at the she-devil. “I cannot believe you. I can understand using my mother as a pawn in your satanic plan if it was for something less than this, but you upped the ante this time around. You all but twisted my insides, Neala. I’ve never messed with your body. What you did to me is just deplorable.”

  I blinked my eyes when Neala threw the tea towel at my face and screeched, “Liar! You gave me food poisoning at Sean’s twentieth birthday party. I was bed bound and puking for days!”

  I winced.

  I had forgotten about that.

  “I didn’t do that on purpose, though; I really thought that chicken was in date. What you did to me was planned down to a tee, you vicious pig!”

  I wished I’d used a different word instead of pig when Neala’s face twisted in rage. I stepped away from her in case she decided to unleash her building fury upon me.

  “You kept me hostage all night, had your parrot insult me all morning, and now you’re calling me fat?”

  Oh, Jesus.

  I was going to die today.

  I didn’t answer Neala; nor did I try to explain that I wasn’t calling her fat. Instead, I turned and ran out of the kitchen so fast I left a smoke trail behind me. I didn’t care if it made me a coward, a bitch, or anything else. No one else knew how hard Neala could punch, and from the look in her rage-filled eyes, I knew she would aim for my balls if given the chance. I wasn’t giving her that opportunity.

  “Darcy!” she bellowed from behind me.

  I could hear her feet smack against my tiled kitchen floor, and for a moment I wished she would slip and fall so she would be preoccupied and wouldn’t come after me.

  Was that mean?

  “Shite!” I yelped when what could only be described as a semi–heavy-set monkey jumped on my back.

  I instinctively reached up and grabbed Neala’s arms when she tried to wrap them around my neck. I was ready for that move this time around.

  Not today, Clarke. Not today!

  “Are you crazy?” I snapped, and tried to wriggle her off my back, but she clung onto me for dear life.

  I tried to wriggle her off some more, but when those efforts failed I grunted and staggered into my living room, where I tried to forward flip her off my back and onto my couch. When that didn’t work I got annoyed and decided to play dirty. I let go of her arms, reached behind my back, and tickled her sides all the way down to her outer thighs. This was one hundred percent effective because Neala was ticklish, extremely ticklish.

  “Bastard!” she screeched, and let go of me.

  She fell backwards and landed on her back on my red oak floor with a mighty thud.

  I winced as I turned around and looked down at her.

  I placed my hands on my hips and sighed. “Are you okay, Neala Girl?”

  Neala made a noise that wasn’t exactly human, and it freaked me out. I was afraid to lean down in case she was faking and grabbed at me, so instead I reached out and nudged her with my foot to make sure she was still alive.

  “Darcy,” she growled through her pain. “Get your disgusting foot away from me right now.”

  I grinned inwardly at her threatening outburst.

  She was fine.

  “Still afraid of men’s feet?” I asked, and raised my leg so I could wriggle my foot around in front of her face and annoy her further.

  She screeched and pushed herself away from me.

  “Not afraid, just repulsed,” she spat.

  I looked down at my foot, then back up to Neala’s curled lip, and smirked.

  She growled at me, “Don’t even think about it.”

  I raised a curious eyebrow. “Think about what?”

  “Whatever nasty thing is going through your tiny mind right now.”

  She never missed a chance to insult me.

  I raised my hands in the air. “I’m not thinking about doing anything; therefore I’m not going to do anything . . . You, on the other hand, are.”

  Neala slowly got to her feet.

  I swa
llowed as her dress rose a little higher up her thighs than it should have. I swallowed again and looked away when she gripped the hem and tugged it down.

  “What am I going to do?” she asked, her voice strained as she shook away the pain from her fall.

  I looked at her face and grinned. “You’re going to get out of me house.”

  Neala stared at me with unblinking eyes. “What?”

  “You are leaving me house. Right now, actually,” I said, and reached up to scratch my head.

  I ruffled my hair a little to help get rid of the just-out-of-bed look. Neala moved slowly as a zombie as she trained her gaze on me and followed my movements, staring at me a little longer than normal. She even bit down on her lower lip as she scanned her eyes over me in a leisurely matter.

  Interesting.

  “Neala,” I called, and snapped my fingers to get her attention.

  She jumped a little, then narrowed her eyes when she saw my smirk. She knew I’d caught her checking me out. I could also see the moment her expression turned to one of disgust at herself.

  “Why are you in just a pair of trousers?” she snapped, and made a big show of looking away from my chest and stomach.

  I laughed. “Maybe because your banging on the storage room door woke me up and didn’t leave me time to pull on anything more?”

  Neala scoffed, “Whatever. Just . . . just go put some more clothes on.”

  And miss her being this flustered?

  Not a chance.

  “Nah, I like wearing just these trousers. The fabric is thin and I like feeling the crisp morning air tickle me balls.”

  Neala reached down and grabbed a cushion from my couch and flung it at me.

  I caught it and laughed loudly.

  “Stop being a dick!”

  “Never.” I grinned.

  Neala screeched in annoyance and left the living room. She didn’t go in the direction of the kitchen, though; she took a right turn, which would lead her to my bedroom, dining room, or bathroom. And the bathroom was off limits for at least another two or three hours. Even though I’d cleaned up and the room was spotless – I wouldn’t risk my lungs in that room just yet. It was under biohazard quarantine until further notice.