The Weight of the World

Chapter 1: Day 0

The party was loud and my headache was banging. The roar of music, underpinned by voices like bassy notes, drilled into my skull. I shut the door behind me, slipping down the hall into the living room.

It was heaving, straining from the sheer mass of people. The air was thick with alcohol and sweat. Compared to the cold outside, I was sweating already.

Squinting in the darkness, I picked out Mike and Lacy on the other side of the room. He was leering over her, with a charming smile across his handsome face.

Lacy blushed, looking over the top of her glasses at him. He brushed a lock of auburn hair behind her ear, then ruffled his own gelled brown locks. Hers was brown, naturally, and the roots poked through ever so slightly.

I thought of the other day at college, and how they'd looked to the floor like naughty children as I approached.

As confidently as I could, I tried to saunter over. In my mind, I was the figure of grace. In reality, six inch heels and half a bottle of gin ruined any mystique I had going for me.

"Issy!" Mike shifted from the chair, pointing. "Here she is, the alcoholic,"

"Fuck off, Mike. I don't get to drink very often."

"So, when you do, you get mashed?"

I shot him a dark look.

"I wasn't judging!" He raised his hands. "More power to you."

"I can't wait until you're eighteen," Lacy said. "We won't be stuck with house parties."

"If you're not enjoying it, you can go at any time." The host strolled by, his voice hoarse with smoke.

"You know what I meant, Sal." She turned berry red.

"Just saying."

Opening my bag, I withdrew the half-empty bottle of spirits, plastic cups and a bottle of lemonade. I grimaced as it fizzed, half-expecting a sugary explosion. Thankfully, it remained inside the bottle.

At that moment, Joe appeared around the corner. His broad shoulders waded through the crowd, like Moses parting the red sea. Just, with less of a beard, shorter hair, and...okay so nothing like Moses.

"Get parked alright?" I asked.

"Yeah, fine." He put a six pack of lager at his feet, popping the tab on one with a thumb like a sausage. "Bloody loud, innit?"

"It's a party, mate. Not gonna be quiet, is it?" Mike laughed.

Halfway through a sip, Joe flipped him off. Turning to me, he asked, "How's the head?"

I twisted my hand in a so-so movement. "I'll be better when I get some more drink down me."

"Not sure that's how that works, but alright," Mike said.

"What makes you bad makes you better," I shrugged.

Joe laughed, then pulled his phone from his pocket. In the gloom, the screen made me squint.

"Look at this video!"

Immediately, I snapped my eyes shut. "Speaking of things making you bad." I could vaguely hear the sound of tearing flesh. "He showed me it after biology yesterday, I wanted to be sick."

"That's mental!" Mike said.

"It's disgusting, but it's interesting," Lacy said. "It must be fake."

"Nah, it's the virus. Saw it on the internet, footage from Iran or something. They've got it way worse than us. Some bloke eating a woman."

"Staged," Lacy said, shaking her cup dismissively.