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The night was fairly quiet. A cool and gentle breeze rustled the leaves of Castle Rock's many trees and gardens, the wind whistling in Ace's ears as he drove by. He kept a firm grip on the steering wheel, his face dark in contempt with bitter thoughts keeping him restless.
The Bower incident had dealt him considerable damage. His gang, The Cobras, were quiet about it. They never dared speak about it, but they didn't need to. Ace could feel it, practically taste it in the air when they'd look at him. They doubted him. Questioned him. Their loyalty was shifting. Of course, they still feared him - they knew he'd be murderous if they tested his patience - but he'd lost their faith. They might as well have turned on him then; once he didn't have that power over them, their agendas changed. And that's exactly what they were doing.
It'd been a humiliating blow to his image; Ace Merrill, brought to his knees by a scrawny 12 year old hardly weighing eighty pounds. The word had got around town within days, and the only thing that seemed to stay the same since then was how little the adults of Castle Rock cared for teenage imagery. But for someone like Ace Merrill, image is what he built himself on. It'd been the only thing in his life he depended on to stay stable. And now, that'd been ripped from him and torn up in his face.
Every kid from ten to eighteen knew about what happened to the feared gang leader, and apparently made it their mission to make sure he never forgot. When he'd walk by any kids on the sidewalk, he'd be mocked, laughed at; a few times he'd been spit at. They'd all run just as fast when he'd lunge at them, though.
None of that, however, compared even slightly to the terror that waited for him at home.
He'd never bothered trying to cover up the ugly yellow and blue marks that would bruise on his skin. He never saw the point; they ranged from his ankles to his temples, busted lips and black eyes rare but not uncommon. None were the wiser to believe anything was astray in the Merrill household since rambunctious Ace was gettin himself into trouble ever since he was a tyke. But since the incident caught wind, whispers and rumours that rung with more truth than falsity would spread about the marks that would seem to multiply after the weekends.
His father was a respected man, living in Castle Rock for twenty years ever since marrying the sweet local girl Bettie Everly. He was long and lean, his strength defined by his German build and the grey hairs peppering his head were the only indication he was over thirty. He smoked on occasion, but he didn't drink. Oh no, his blows were precise and sober. Of Ace's childhood memories, the most prominent were the nights he'd spend locked in his room sitting on the closet floor, the only monster he was afraid of being the one with the icy blue eyes downstairs.
Needless to say, Ace could feel himself slipping. When he was a child, after he'd exhausted his father and bared the injuries, his mother would take him into her arms and put on her records as she tried to soothe him, humming along to the music and stroking his hair. The only times he'd feel truly safe was when he was held by her. It was the only comfort he'd had, and now, he needed that comfort again.
So that was why now, at close to midnight, he drove impatiently towards the small vinyl store located at the edge of town. His father had thrown away most of his mothers belongings when she died a year before, his way of "moving on," as he'd put it, save a couple of mementos Ace had sneaked from him before the trash was taken. Of the various belongings thrown away was a particular record, his mothers favourite and the one she would play the most for him. A Vera Lynn 1937 vinyl. It was unlikely he'd find it in a small town like Castle Rock, but it was the only thing he could do to look, so he went.
The air was cool in his lungs as he parked, and he felt a dull craving begin to settle in his chest. He lit a cigarette between his teeth and headed in, briefly noting the black motorcycle parked outside.
He walked inside, the bell on the door ringing and catching the attention of a tired and miserable looking shop owner. He looked over and smiled weakly in recognition, and sat behind the front desk used to Ace's midnight routine.
Ace stalked over to the Newly Attained section, scanning and flipping through the records for any familiar titles.
The bell rang again, and Ace glanced over to a girl he'd never seen before.
He took another drag and studied her out of curiosity. Her hair was long and dark, styled in a messy perm with what were probably once ringlets cascading around her shoulders. She wore a pink shawl tied around her neck over a white embroidered crop with puffed sleeves, and a whimsy rose patterned skirt that twirled with her every movement. Her olive skin was oddly pale, but then again it could've just appeared that way under the shop lights. She walked with wonder around the store, smiling brightly at the records with sparkling eyes.
Ace took in her appearance, regarding her with interest. He hadn't seen her before, so either she had just moved over or was only stopping by. The shop, while popular to the teenagers who lived close by, wasn't exactly covered in flashing lights; Ace had found it himself by chance one afternoon while he walked restlessly around the outer edges of town. It hardly had any customers during the night, let alone newbies. Him being the exception. Maybe she was lost?
Suddenly she looked up from her fascination of the records over at him and froze, her expression swiftly turning to something between shock or fear. A little surprised by her stare, Ace narrowed his eyes and stared back, blowing the smoke out from his lips.
Her eyes widened and she looked over her shoulder briefly, then returned her gaze to him looking almost defeated. She dropped her eyes and spun around, staring at the ground as she headed outside.
He furrowed his brow. What the fuck? "Hey!" He called. He dashed past the puzzled shop keeper and threw open the door, whipping his head to the right to find the girls' silhouette walking tepidly down the block. "Hey!" He barked sharply. Her walking stopped and she stiffened. He tossed out his cigarette as he made his way over, never taking his eyes off the back of her head. She turned her face slightly, so her cheek and eyelashes appeared as she waited dreadfully for his approach.
"Do we have a problem?" He asked curtly.
She remained frozen on the sidewalk, flinching at his voice.
"I was only exploring." She muttered faintly. "I wasn't doing anything wrong, David." She spoke quietly, her voice soft and fragile, like it took all she had to keep it from breaking.
He blinked at her. "...What?" He asked incredulously, his frustration turning to confusion.
"I'm going back now," she said abruptly, oblivious to his comment. "I won't bother you. I don't want to be any more trouble."
Ace crossed his arms, staring blankly at her. He wasn't sure what to say, since he had no idea what the fuck she was saying. Despite himself, a smirk crawled on his face and a dry laugh escaped him. It seemed like once his mouth opened, his thoughts fell out over his lips.
"Sweetheart, what the fuck'r you on about?"
Something shifted in her then, the anxiety that had seemed to be choking her lifting lightly. Despite her shift of vibe, the air around her hung with uneasiness.
She slowly turned her head around, eyeing him warily as her body followed. With his body now in full view, she had time to take in his appearance, noticing his clothing with sudden interest. Ace could practically see her mind working to make sense of something, before her lips parted in revelation.
He raised his brows, tilting his head slightly as he waited for her response. When she didn't reply he gave an impatient shake of his head.
"Are you lost?" He questioned, a note of aggravation seeping into his tone.
She jumped, shaken out of her thoughts. "Sorry?" She asked, and seeing Ace's expression darken she bit her mouth shut and shook her head quickly.
"No." She answered, bringing her hands up to worry at them.
Ace looked across the street. The path she'd been walking didn't lead to the busier parts of town. This whole area was quiet from about five blocks down. He returned his gaze to settle on her.
"What was that about then?" He questioned.
She looked down, smiling slightly. "Nothing, nothing... I just mistook you for someone else."
He cocked his brow. "Someone else." He repeated.
She nodded, and her smile faded. She seemed distant for a moment. "My brother," she said.
"What, he give you a curfew?"
"Uhm..." She hummed, picking at her nails. "Something like that."
Ace eyed her, contemplating what to do. With no real conflict there was no reason to be confrontational. He was even enjoying talking to this girl. Still, something about her drew him in and he kept careful awareness over that.
"Never seen you 'round here before," He said. "You new?"
She nodded. "Uh huh."
"Where do you live?"
She seemed a bit flustered at the question, but held a calm demeanour. "Around," she mused.
"Only boring old folks live 'round this part of town," He said. "You don't look the type." Or sound the type, he thought. She almost seemed crazy.
She was visibly uncomfortable at his pressing. But she didn't seem creeped out; she seemed worried, almost guilty. That didn't sit well with him.
"Look, I'm really not supposed to be out right now..." She said, taking a few steps back.
Ace rolled his tongue. She seemed anxious to leave. Well, he thought, rolling his eyes. fine by me.
"Yeah. Wouldn't wanna keep your freaky brother waitin'."
He turned on his heel back towards the shop, but realizing how exhausted he felt headed over to his car instead. He'd only touched the handle when he was hit with a sudden ache that fogged his head and sent him reeling into a haze. He haphazardly reached out and steadied himself on the side of the car, gripping the edges. Distantly, he heard a voice call out. He turned his face in the direction it came from, and saw the girl's lips moving but could hardly make out her words. After a moment the haze settled to a dull fuzz and her oddly clear voice broke through.
"What's your name?" She asked.
He gripped the door harder, staring at her as his mind wrestled against the fog and the black dots dancing before his eyes. Her voice resonated in his ears and despite struggling to process what she had said, he heard his reply escape his lips anyway.
"Ace," he murmured. The moment the sound left him he flinched at his answer, surprised. A small smile played at her lips and she spoke in an almost rhythmic tone.
"I'm Star."
He looked to her until her image blurred, breaking his trance and realizing he'd been staring. Shaking his head in an attempt to rid the fog overtaking him, he pulled open the door and fumbled for his keys into the ignition. He didn't give so much as a second glance to the girl as he backed out, but if he had, he would've noticed the motorcycle disappear with her.
He pulled up into his driveway, taking care to be quiet in case the old man was inside. Upon shutting the door, Ace realized how hard he'd been gripping it when he'd had that strange head rush. Small scratches just big enough to fit the width of his fingernails sliced the blue paint in deep gashes. He growled inwardly, angry with himself despite the marks not being particularly noticeable.
Quietly he glided up the porch and opened the screen door, stepping cautiously inside.
Shutting the door slowly behind him, Ace swept his gaze around to take in any sign of life. Sometimes his father would be up to lecture him, but tonight it looked like he'd gone to bed in the downstairs bedroom. Keeping his breathing low he crept up the stairs and creaked open his bedroom door, silently shutting and locking it. Upon approaching the mattress all of the exhaustion crashed down on Ace in that moment and he collapsed onto it, leaving his clothes and shoes on deciding to take a shower the next night. His dreams were filled with a fairy-like girl who laughed like the wind and ran quickly into a blurred fog. She ran from him, but her eyes beckoned him. He followed her in curiosity, and then he dreamt of nothing at all.