Some Coward; Afraid of Red

It’s hotter than it should be. The sky is clear, the sun is abrasive and the dated air conditioner is outmatched. Malcolm keeps all the curtains drawn but regardless, the heat creeps inside through broken windows. The coolest room in the old police station is the kitchen, and only when standing in proximity of the freezer. Malcolm holes up there with his slick forehead pressed against the steel colored door. The salt of his skin stings at the contact but he prefers it to the burn of overheating. 

When he was younger, Malcolm loved the scorch of the sun and would pay no mind to the sweat and stench of summer. Back then he could never stand to stay inside. Not when he could lounge under direct sunlight and enjoy its warmth without worry because his desert skin would never burn. But that was before all the scars and missing bits. 

Though the burns have healed, his nerves are permanently damaged and his skin is sensitive in a way it never was in his youth. It’s days like this, when the heat is merciless, that Malcolm clings to the chill of the freezer and never ventures outside if he can help it. And it’s on these days that pain is at the forefront of his mind. 

If someone asked him to rate his pain, Malcolm would raise both hands, his answer being an eight and a half because with his missing fingertips he couldn’t give a ten. Even indoors, the lumpy skin of his scalp is set ablaze with old flames that were never fully extinguished. All over, his flesh is heavy with heat and itchy with sweat, and he would do anything to cool down. 

“The key here is patience,” Malcolm whispers to himself. 

His words come out sluggishly. The ice cube he placed in his mouth had helped to cool him down but it numbed the shreds of his tongue. He attempts to lick the heat off his mouth. His spit stings the cracks in his lips. But still his breath is hot and it fogs up the freezer door when he exhales, only for it to come back and cling to his sticky face. 

When Malcolm experiences pain like this, his best course of action is to distract himself from it. His go-to diversion is conversation, which usually works as he is often surrounded by people. However, his plans for the day have cleared his home of guests. Other than Demon Dog, Malcolm is alone and despite any of his previous efforts, he has found the dog to be a poor conversationalist. When there’s no one else to speak to, he makes do with his own company. 

“That’s the only way this’ll work. Patience,” he repeats with forced certainty. 

In Malcolm’s attempt to deflect the pain, his concentration settles on Kelly, though his thoughts of her are hardly a comfort to him. With the contest less than a week away, they made plans for her to come around his to prepare. This marks the beginning of their partnership and Malcolm has no idea where to start.