The Forgotten One

3

"No is a full sentence."
- Mary-Kate Olsen
♡

T.W. sexual assault. There will be information at the end of the chapter with resources to help if you are struggling following something similar. Do not feel obliged to read, and please, look after yourselves. X

(Updated version of chapter 3- I'll discuss the main differences at the end).
—

As a girl, you spend your entire life being told a few things. Never walk alone at night. Always tell someone where you're going. Never, under any circumstances, accept a drink when you haven't seen it be poured.

I failed the third one.

- three weeks prior -

Have you ever met someone that you instantly knew would be in your life for the rest of it? Or at least you hope they will. The type of person you look to when you tell a joke, just to see if they're laughing along. The type you crave the comfort of when something bad happens.

Adam is the closest thing I have to someone like that.

After I defended him back when we were nine, we formed a type of friendship you don't see often. The type where- despite being of the gender the other was attracted to- you never venture into romance. It was a level of love I would consider as strong as family.

He's there for me when I need him, and I'm there for him when he needs me. But we aren't the inseparable kind; we spend a lot of time apart. We each have our own friends. Or at least what you'd label as friends. We don't even sit together at school- only the odd times when one of our lessons are cancelled, so we have a free period together.

The only time our friendship groups mix is when we're at a party. Like now.

I can feel the buzz of alcohol running through my body. I feel light, like I'm floating- this is why I love parties. Fuck, I can even tolerate Mia when I'm like this.

We're currently singing the words to a song- an old Katy Perry, I think. I'm dancing with Mia and Laila, moving our hips out of sync, and without a care in the world for who's watching. For once.

I genuinely don't care what people think. I'm happy. I love feeling happy. Happiness is so great, isn't it?

I'm wearing a bright white dress. It's skin tight, hugs my curves, and makes it look like I actually have boobs. It's short, too. Short enough that, if I was to bend over, someone would get the view of my beautiful pasty arse. My red hair is messily flowing down my back, in now broken ringlets, and my smudged eyeliner is making my blue eyes pop. I know I look good.

Good enough that I've already kissed some random boy tonight, and good enough that three more have tried to dance with me. I rejected them, though. Not because I was getting off with their friend an hour ago, but because I don't want to leave my friends. That's one thing I'll always remember my mum telling me- never leave your friends under any circumstances, particularly when you're drunk. So instead, I'm dancing with them, hoping they'd extend the same courtesy to me.

I don't really care enough now, though. I'm not going to let my usual overthinking ruin this night so I'm sucking it up, and enjoying myself.

"I think I'm going to get another drink," Mia shouts over the music, detangling herself from mine, and Laila's arms.

"Okay. I'll come with you," I manage to slur back, taking her offered hand, and manoeuvring through the crowd of people. Laila was right behind us- and in this moment I felt like I belonged in a group. I couldn't help the grin that took over my face.