Why do you pick fights with other boys? It's the question Ryan has been running from all his life. The answer will shock you.
For as long as Ryan can remember, he's always wanted to be someone special. Now, a promising high school wrestler and a po...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Nearly half the houses near Western Washington University, WWU for short, were rented by college students. The college occupancies came as no surprise. WWU was an easy, public university to get into and a hotbed for parties and mischief. The local real-estate industry relied heavily on the students' college loans and their parents' allowances which drove renting costs up. This wasn't an issue for most college renters. Many of them would cram themselves in by the dozens into the old, flaying infrastructure around WWU that the owners and managers had little interest in preserving. As long as rent was paid on time, the college students were essentially free to do whatever they wanted. All that began changing after the "Block Party."
Five neighboring houses on the same cul-de-sac were hosting college parties. One nicknamed Hell House was the spot Ashley found herself in. Alyssa wasn't aware of Hell House's rowdy reputation and unknowingly brought Ashley and their cheerleader friends inside.
The first things Ashley noticed inside Hell House were its unkempt state, overcrowdedness, and loud music. But the thing that left the biggest impression upon entering were the red spray painted letters, "HELL HOUSE" along the black walls of the living room. The sight felt like a bad omen. The large, runny letters looked like someone had written them in blood rather than cheap paint.
What the hell is this place? Ashley wondered.
"Hell house!" Someone yelled. "Fuck yeah!"
Ahh. Duh.
A sound system linking speaker boxes in nearly every room blasted songs from artists like Suicideboys and Juicy J. The music's volume was loud enough for most of the surrounding neighborhood to hear. The loudest speakers were in the living room where dozens of guests crammed together to thrash out and dance. At most Hell House parties, the living room regularly became host to mosh pits. Partiers would shove and throw each other in any direction, the most intense of which would result in all out brawls.
While Ashley and her friends were initially put off by the aggressive, grungy atmosphere, they found some solace upstairs where the music was not as loud. In an upstairs bedroom, they joined some cute boys, one of whom invited Alyssa to the party, who were smoking weed and drinking tequila. Even though Ashley was not enjoying the night so far, the distraction of the party was enough to keep her out.
Something fun has to happen.
One of the boys whipped out a mason jar full of weed and grinded it on a Wiz Khalifa rolling tray. The aroma of the cannabis was already overwhelming without any of it being smoked. While Ashley's friends didn't smoke weed regularly, they each passed around a bong and took hits.
When in Rome.
The friend group looked vastly different from the rebellious punk looking attendees downstairs. With their mostly black shirts, joggers, tattoos and piercings, they looked like they fitted right at home at Hell House. The preppy attire Ashley's friends and the boys they met up with wore made them look like they had come to the wrong party.
