“It’s a Wonderland rave. Alice in Wonderland theme, I guess,” she says, coming to the same conclusion I do. She doesn’t give me a moment to process our surroundings or allow me to talk to her about safety and staying together when she opens the car door and bounds out like an eager puppy.
“Mallory, wait!” Running in heels is the worst thing I can possibly do but I don’t have much of a choice at this point. I catch up to her just as she’s entering the dark interior of the building. There’s an enormous man standing in the partially lit, graffiti-filled hallway. We pay the entry fee and he hands us the same white rabbit mask everyone else is wearing. We proceed farther inside with a small group directly in front of us. When they open the heavily-scratched and dented, rusty metal door we step inside and instantly we’re transported to another world. It’s a world comprising of hypnotic neon strobe lights piercing through the darkness, pulsating to the hard, pounding bass blasting through the subwoofers. It’s a world of euphoric chaos, where lust and sex converge in an arousing orgy of debauchery. My eyes bounce everywhere, unable to focus on just one thing. I feel completely overdressed, and even Mallory’s dress seems modest compared to what the gyrating mass of sweat-stained teenagers are wearing. Which is essentially almost nothing.
Everyone is dancing, swaying to the hard, driving EDM song rumbling through the floor. I keep close to Mallory in fear of getting lost in the crowd, but I’m looking at everything, absorbing everything. The air is stale, overcharged and overheated with a myriad of smells that’s intensely overwhelming. A guy steps directly in our path sporting the same creepy rabbit mask almost everyone else is wearing. The fact that he’s not wearing a shirt makes it possible to see the massive set of butterfly wings strapped to his back. The rainbow tutu skirt hides all that needs to be hidden, while thigh-high leather boots accentuate his slim legs. He has a multitude of glow stick necklaces around his neck, while a rainbow of caricatures glowing prettily in the dark decorates his torso.
“Hey, bitch, ‘bout time you got here!” Invading Mallory’s space, he steps close enough that he can be heard over the music all the while pulling his mask up over his head to reveal a grinning face. Henri Kingston is the indiscriminately brash, boisterous, and often times catty friend Mallory picked up last year in drama class. I’m not a fan of his, namely because when he and Mallory get together it rarely ever ends well. Henri can always be counted on to make Mallory’s habitually bad decisions worse.
Mallory pulls away from me to leap into his waiting arms with a squeal. “I wanted to pick out the perfect outfit! What do you think?” Stepping away, she does a turn.
“Fierceness, bitch! Love the heels!”
He glances my way with a tight, fake smile. “You’re here, too!”
Pursing my lips, I say, “Yup.”
“I’ve got candy!” That’s the end of our conversation as he focuses his attention back on Mallory pulling the string of a small, black pouch from around his left wrist. Tugging it open, he holds it up to Mallory’s excited face. “It’s the purest shit you’ll ever taste.”
“Molly?”
“Better, SKY. Cleaner roll.”
A surge of unease trickles in my veins as I watch my best friend pop a little pink pill. The entire interaction between them is so casual that it casts a shade of surrealism to the scene. “I need a chaser.”
“Snow?”
Mallory giggles, nodding her head. “Oh yeah.”
I will myself to speak, although I’m sure my concerns will be ignored. “Mallory…” The same caution that I constantly live by permeates my voice. “Let’s slow down for a bit and dance, okay?”
She turns to me with a smile, “We’ll dance. I just need to head to the bathroom for like a second. Just wait for me up there.” She points to the steel scaffold just above us. “I’ll come get you as soon as I get back.” Henri pulls her away before I can say anything and she follows giddily behind him without a second glance back.
“Fuck.”
I don’t swear much but I think I’m justified in my current situation. In this instant, surrounded by an orgy of intoxicated people, with the earthquake of the pounding bass line vibrating through my chest and the multihued laser lights picking me out from the crowd, I feel completely and utterly alone and lonely. Like a lost little child, I squeeze my way through the throng in hopes of finding the parent that forgot I was there. But Mallory isn’t my parent. She’s a friend who’s found something better to occupy her time. I should be angry and maybe a part of me is, but it doesn’t rival the mire of self-pity I find myself sinking into. My walk up the steel steps is blurred by hot, stinging tears I refuse to let fall. It isn’t as crowded up here, but all the same, I find the corner with the least amount of people and huddle close to one of the building’s support beams, wishing and hoping I can disappear inside its frosty, concrete interior. Feeling an increasing sense of detachment from it all, I peer down at the crowd for an impossible stretch of eternity wondering if it’s will alone keeping me from hurtling myself over or the metal bar I’m leaning into. There’s no answer. But there’s suddenly someone’s weight against me. Pressing into me. My heart jumps, and two sharp gasps crackle from my throat as my eyes widen in disbelief. Paralyzed by terror, I can only stand there at the feel of the thickness prodding against my backside.
“God, baby, your ass feels so good.” My ears ring as rancid, alcohol-drenched breath steams hot along the shell of my ear. “Bet it’d feel even better with my dick in between your cheeks.” He extends both his arms on either side of my body, his hands gripping the iron railing to completely cage me in. I slowly look up and stare straight ahead, my body in a trancelike state. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’re going to beg me for more.” He moves his hips, grinds his erection against my butt cheeks. Still, I don’t move. “You going to scream for me, baby?”
Everything in me screams to get away. To escape. “No.” That’s all that comes out. A terrible, pitiful sound escapes from the fissures of a body that’s already been broken. Left exposed, the demons drag Tim’s presence into the moment, and his shadow, his weight, and his body replace the one behind me.
“My little flower.”
His words. Those revolting three little words play on a loop inside my head like a broken music box. My nightmare comes to life. It breathes down my neck. It touches me with oil-slicked hands. It bleeds violently into my reality, rendering me utterly powerless.
Please…no.
I don’t know how but someone hears my internal plea and in the seconds it takes for me to inhale a shuddering breath, the body of my assailant is gone.
When I turn, it’s to see my rescuer holding my assailant by the front of his shirt, his back bowed dangerously and half hanging over the iron railing. There’s the barrel of a gun firmly fixed against the side of the stranger’s head.
“You good?”
The raspy growl of the voice edged with a pitch of gruffness draws my eyes to the person speaking to me. In that precise moment, a strobe light focuses on him, casting immaculate features in haunting blue laser light, giving him this unworldly appearance. He’s a familiar face in a sea of strangers. The furthest thing from a friend, and yet, the overpowering rush of elation that spirals through me at the sight of his brooding face nearly knocks me to my knees.
Maddox.
An incredibly large, incomprehensible part of me wants to jump into his arms, hide my face against the sturdiness of his chest, and thank him for what he just did. But the very thought of being so close to a guy when I was just assaulted by one keeps me rooted while a flood of trepidation swishes like ice water through my veins. It’s a paradox, the inconsistency of emotions raging a war inside me.