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Anna had never been good at relationships. She was reminded of this once more as she stared at her reflection in the grimy mirror of the club’s bathroom. Her hair hung in greasy knots around her bruised, sallow face. A smear of blood trailed from her split lip and dark circles framed her hollow eyes.
Outside the door, she could hear the thumping of bass mingling with the shouts of conversation and revelry. It seemed to break apart before it could reach her ears, instead replaced by the buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead.
Hans is still out there , she realized. She imagined him pushing his way through a tangle of sweaty dancers, all dressed in a rainbow of skin-tight, glittering dresses. His eyes were roving the crowd, searching for a flash of auburn hair as he sipped a drink, his mind slowly fading from his usual coldly charming facade into a drunken, boiling rage. She gripped the rim of the porcelain sink and tried to steady her hands.
“I have to get out of here,” she whispered to herself. She turned her attention to the window above the toilet. It was hardly noticeable, roughly the size of an air vent and overlooking a narrow, trash-filled alley, but for Anna, it was a godsend.
She kicked off her heels and stepped onto the lid of the toilet. After a few struggling pushes, she managed to shove the pane open. Just as she swung herself onto the windowsill, she heard someone pounding at the door.
“Anna?” Hans growled on the other side. “You’ve been in there a while.”
Her heart leapt into her throat. She didn’t have to see him to know his eyes were glazed over and his face was twisted into a sadistic grimace.
She shoved her legs out, the opening hardly large enough to fit over her hips and thighs. Hans continued to call her as she shimmied through, the pink sequins on her dress scratching against her skin.
Finally, she emerged on the other side, landing in a heap on the cold, unforgiving ground. The yellow light of the bathroom was swallowed by the humid night air, and she could hear rats scuttling among the piles of rubbish on either side of the alley. She peeked over her shoulder at the window, where she could faintly hear Hans threatening to break down the door. Not wanting to find out how serious he was, she scrambled to her feet and raced towards the bustling street nearby.
Kristoff wasn’t happy to hear a knock at the door. It had been a long day at work, and all he wanted to do was lay down and bed and let the ache dissolve from in between his bones, release the day’s worth of tension coiled in his muscles, and shuck off his grease-stained shirt and jeans. With a groan, he got to his feet and opened the door, and was more than a little surprised to find Anna standing in the hall.
“Hi, Kristoff,” she said.
“Anna,” he answered. He straightened his back and ran a hand through his hair, suddenly embarrassed at his messy apartment and unwashed clothes. “Please, come in.”
She stepped through the door and dropped an enormous pair of black stilettos by the mat. She wore a sparkling, blush-colored dress streaked with dirt and her hair fell in messy waves around her face. Despite the mix of anxiety and exhaustion in her expression, and the bruises blooming on her cheek, Kristoff was happy to see her.
“Do you want anything?” Kristoff asked as she flopped onto the couch. She shook her head, but he filled a glass with water and set it on the table beside her anyway. She drank it down in less than a minute.
“So much for not wanting anything, right?” Kristoff said.
Anna rolled her eyes and swatted at him, “Shut up.”
They fell into silence, Anna fidgeting with the hem of her dress while Kristoff seated himself beside her.
“Not that I don’t enjoy your company, but why are you here?” he finally asked.
Anna sighed and pulled her hands into her lap. “Hans,” she said.
“Hans?”
“He dragged me to another club again where he once again got tipsy and started hitting on other girls. I called him out and we fought. Eventually I got tired of it, ran to the bathroom, escaped through a window, and flagged down a taxi to come here.”
“Oh.”
Another silence settled over them. Once again, Kristoff’s eyes wandered to the scrapes and bruises peppering Anna’s skin. They were more visible now, like red and purple weeds crawling and bursting across her body.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked.
Anna said nothing.
Kristoff leaned close to her. He could smell the faded scent of perfume clinging to her hair and see the freckles sprinkled across her skin like stars.
“Anna,” he said again. “Did he hurt you?”
She met his gaze. Her eyes were wide and her lower lip trembled. “Promise me you won’t say anything,” she whispered.
He made the split-second decision to agree, but if Hans had even laid a hand on her, he’d go straight to the authorities and have him taken away, even if it meant going behind her back. Feelings aside, Anna was his best friend, and there was no way he was letting some asshole hurt her. Shoving down the guilt rising in his stomach, he said, “Of course.”
“He grabbed my arm pretty hard while we were there, but I did the rest to myself.”
Kristoff stared at her. “What?”
“I ran into the bathroom and broke down,” she said, burying her face in her hands. “I was just so mad and afraid and upset that I just started clawing at myself and bruising myself. I don’t know, I just needed to feel something in the moment and that was the fastest way to do it.”
She fell into Kristoff’s shoulder, sobbing. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest, running his fingers through her hair and murmuring words of comfort in her ear.
Finally, she sat up, sniffing and wiping tears from her cheeks. “Thank you,” she said.
“You don’t have to let him do this, you know,” Kristoff said. “There are a million more people out there, and I’m willing to bet at least half of them are cuter than Hans.”
Anna laughed and sunk into the cushions. “I think you’re right,” she said. A mischievous glint sparked in her eyes, “It gives me a little bit of an idea.”
“What?” Kristoff asked, raising an eyebrow.
Anna laid across his lap. Her lips curled into a smirk and her eyes glimmered in the low light. She raised her arms and tangled her fingers in Kristoff’s hair, drawing him down to her. Before he could think twice, his lips were on hers. Fireworks exploded in his mind, only to be interrupted by Anna bringing him closer. Something deep inside him screamed that this was wrong, that she had a boyfriend---that they were best friends and best friends didn’t do this---but it all dissolved when he felt Anna smile against his mouth.
They pulled apart, breathing hard.
Kristoff couldn’t help his grin, “What was that for?”
“I guess I just needed to feel something again,” she replied, caressing his cheek.
Kristoff hummed in agreement. They closed their eyes and touched their foreheads, reveling in the racing of their hearts and butterflies in their stomachs.
“Wait a second,” Anna said, opening her eyes. She wriggled off of Kristoff’s lap and sat up. “There’s one last thing I need to do.”
Anna was already dialing Hans’s number before the door had a chance to close. Kristoff was still inside, grabbing her a t-shirt and pajama pants she could change into and running a bath. She sighed and leaned against the wall as the phone rung one. Twice. Three times. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t pick up, and Anna was sent to voicemail.
“Hi, you’ve reached Hans,” the phone announced in a nauseatingly cheery voice. “I’m not available at the moment, but leave a message and I’ll call you back.”
She was silent for a moment, allowing all her rage to bubble up in a white-hot ball in her stomach. She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth until, finally, the tone sounded. With a single, furious breath she cried, “WE ARE OVER!” and hung up.
Her muscles relaxed and whatever evil spirit had momentarily possessed her dissipated. She took a deep breath. Inside, she could hear Kristoff shuffling about and she smiled. Feeling like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, she stood up straight and walked back through the door.