Ultra Frankenstein

Chapter One - Warehouse

The dim streetlights reflected on the small puddles of water that had collected in the potholes dotted across the cobblestone street after a days rain, creating an eerie glow visible from the pavement. Stubbing out her third spliff of the evening, Abigaile traversed along the side of the road, arms outstretched like some enigmatic, grounded bird, swinging from lampost to lamppost, her scuffed combat boots making splash sounds in the pools of water as she went, shattering the silence of the side street. The spliff had given her a woozy feeling, relaxed, confident, calm & collected. Continuing to swing on the lampposts until she reached the end of the street, she paused to pull open her cellphone & flip it open. She wore only a thin crop top with a tight silk bodice and a corset back, paired with a tulle skirt, both black. The ensemble did nothing to guard against the cold of the night, but she felt warm as though there was a fire that lit her from the inside out. Her light brown hair hung in half ringlets down her back, messy & knotted but in such a way that it looked like it had taken her hours to achieve, her hazel eyes lined with smokey black kohl, glittery black shadow adorning the crease of her eyelid, giving the impression that she was much older than her age of 16 years.

Pressing the autodial button on her phone, she pressed it to her ear, waiting as the dial tone rang, rang, rang. Finally a high pitched "Hellooooo!?" emitted from the receiver, causing Abigaile to pull the phone an inch from her ear. "B? Where the fuck are you guys?" she asked nonchalantly her tone of voice flat, not giving away the impatience she felt. "I dunno like, down some random street. I can see a couple trees, and like cans," the girl responded, her voice airy, trill, distant on the end of the line. Abigaile pulled the Benson & Hedges packet out of the pocket of her skirt, and lit it with the silver lighter both of which she had stolen from the convenience store on her street, taking a drag as she frowned. Exhaling, she flicked the ash onto the cobblestones as she came to the end of the street to a T intersection. Looking left and then right, she sighed, her breath coming out foggy, not from the smoke but from the chill of the night air. "Well how the fuck am I supposed to find you guys if all I can get from you is cans? Did you get the E?" A flurry of laughter sounded on the other end of the phone. "Just chill out Abi. Jesus Christ, I meant trash cans, we're on Surrey Street by the depot. And yeah we got it, as promised." Replied B.

Abbi took one last draw on the stump of the cigarette and dropped it onto the pavement, taking the left turn at the end of the street, snapping her phone shut. Just to look at Abigaile Preslon was undeniably, for all involved, an act of admiration. From the olive tone of her skin, her prominent cheekbones, the swell of her upper lip, her willowy figure, the way she walked as though she had no idea the effect she had on people, boys, men, girls, women. But she did know. Spotting B and Vivian by the trash cans Abi headed over to them. "About fucking time!" Vivian, a girl with short cropped black hair and a septum piercing crowed, as she swigged from a bottle of alcohol wrapped in a brown paper bag, wincing as she swallowed the clear liquid. Abi took the bottle from her hands, upending it and swallowing the vodka with ease, before handing it back to her. "Viv," Abi acknowledged her, with a half smile that only teased one side of her lips, her hazel eyes glinting.

She turned back to face B. "What the fuck are you wearing?" Abigail asked, amused as she looked the tall, pale girl up and down. B, or Breanna Gertrude Ryan as her mother called her, was a painfully thin girl with long silver-blonde hair that hung in wavy reams to almost her hips. With huge, blue eyes she resembled a cartoon character. She wore a long white dress in a thin hessian material that looked almost like a beach wedding dress, with a low cut front with draw strings criscrossing across her chest, left loose. A strand of brown leather was wound around her head and entwined through a loose plait in her hair. She looked like a hippy-cross-american-indian-cross-bride-cross-crazy-bitch? She had the same kind of enigmatic allure about her as Abi, but unlike her she was totally unaware of it. "I found this thrifting!" She exclaimed "You like?" she twirled around, the hem of the dress billowing out in the night air as her black maryjane heals clicked on the pavement. Abi raised her eyebrows, whilst Vivian rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue, taking another draw from the vodka bottle.

"Alright, we ready?" Abi asked, changing the subject She held out her hand to B who pulled a plastic zip lock bag from the bosom of her dress full of perfect white circular pills. The purest MDMA you could score in Bristol. She took two out of the bag and popped them on her tongue, taking the bottle from Viv and swallowing the pills with two big gulps of vodka. Viv shrugged, took one white pill for herself and dry swallowed it, tipping her head back.

As B reached for her share, Viv slapped her hand away. "Fuck off B, you've already had two tonight!" Abigail smiled, crooking her finger at B. "Bugger off, greedy!" She exclaimed, turning away from the girls to head in the direction of the party. The other girls followed, continuing to share the vodka as they made their way down the long road, Abi walking purposefully ahead as she took another pill out of the bag and dry swallowed it, tucking it in back in her pocket, B skipping along and kicking garbage bins as she went, giggling, and Viv plodding along in her Doc Martens. Turning into an alleyway entrance that was hidden from view by more bins and piles of plastic garbage bags that were split and overflowing with filthy, rotten food scraps and packaging, empty beer cans and whiskey bottles, they could feel the low hum of the baseline of electronic music vibrating through their chest before they even heard the music.

Approaching the barricaded door they quickly pulled out the ragged timber post that was angled to keep the sheet metal door wedged shut.