Flawed

Scene 4: Evoked

C h a p t e r    F o u r :

                                                                                 E V O K E D

♀

Strobe lights, laughter, dancing, smoke....

The bottom of the bottle lifts high above my head as the liquor seeps its way down my throat, burning its way to my stomach. Eleven calculated pairs of eyes are watching my every move from the bob of my throat to the swing of my hips.

They're cheering me on, demanding I drink more.

With every sound of the bass, I happily oblige, swaying and laughing along with the rest of them.

"Might wanna slow it down there, Merce...." Jamie says, gently tugging the bottle from my hand. He doesn't take a sip, just hands it off to someone else desperate to make this their scene; not once have I ever seen Jamie drink.

He hasn't been out for months, not since Hailey....

I squeeze his arm and smile, grateful. At least, I'm 80% sure it's him.

He's sitting only a foot away but his face is blurred beyond recognition. If it wasn't for his long hair, I wouldn't have had the slightest clue who he was -- it'd been Dax's idea to leave my glasses at home.

As I lean closer, though, I can still see, still feel, the sadness surrounding him. It follows him like a fog. 

In his eyes.

In his smile.

Everything about him breaks my heart.

I try to ignore it, he wants me to ignore it, but I can't be around him without saying anything.

In an attempt to avoid talking to Jamie about his sad everything, I look at the people around me. One set of eyes are missing -- that, I'm sure of. I need to find those eyes.

"Point me in Dax's direction," I shout, over the music and into Jamie's ear.

He scans the room and sighs, "Down the hall, make a right; he just went outside. Even his shadow looks like a prick so you can't miss him."

"Ha-ha," I say, hitting him playfully in the chest. "Thank you."

My legs clumsily follow the path Jamie had just laid out, weaving through partygoers and scattered trash. Down the hall... make a right... my hands push open the side door. Fresh night air fills my lungs and smarts my eyes, a small catalyst to sober me up.

Dax's tall outline is visible only a couple of yards away as he casually leans against the balcony, too close to the outline of another girl.

As I stumble closer, I can see Dax's arms draped around her waist; her arms wrapped around his neck. She buries her head against his chest as they hold each other with purpose.

I stand there, stunned, curious. If they are about to do anything other than hug, I'm about to give the girl one good shove over the railing.

I pick out blonde highlights in her raven hair and my memory does the rest.

Scout Champney....