Violence (Sequel to Have Faith In Me)

24: Tequila

So, I was going to a party tonight.

It was Friday and I had like 3 hours to get ready.

I was sat on the floor in my bedroom, in front of my wardrobe. I was wrapped in a towel and I was trying to figure out what to wear.

I wanted to wear something cute and comfy and casual. However the only evening/party wear I seem to have is fancy dressed up outfits from where I went out with the boys.

I only had casual clothes and smart sixth form clothes. I couldn't go to a party looking like a scruff, and yet I couldn't wear my everyday dress code attire. I was torn. I couldn't dress up all fancy for a house party: it just wasn't a big enough occasions.

So I was ripping my hair out with decisions.

Rose was out visiting her family for the weekend, a couple hours drive away from here. I hadn't spoken to Zack at all today; I don't know where he is or what he's doing. I didn't tell him where I was going, as I had a feeling he wouldn't approve, at all.

But sometimes not everything is about him. This is me, and it is my decision. Besides, how can something that feels so good, be so bad?

I'll tell him about it some other time, after the event, where I can tell him that I did something so 'rambunctious' and yet I still came out of it alive.

I decided to grab an old Nirvana tee, and I ripped it up into a crop top, with some scagged holes in it to add to the effect.

I then put on some extremely short shorts, and these weren't even high waisted.

I never go out with this much skin showing. Heck, I wouldn't be confident enough for any of the boys to see me in this, and that's when I trust them with absolutely everything.

Most of my stomach was showing, and you could almost see the bottom of my butt cheeks hanging out from the black ripped-at-the-bottom denim material. The shorts had white fraying around the pockets and at the bottom of the 'legs'.

I slipped a tattoo choker over my head and let it rest on my neck. I put a load of fabric wristbands promoting my favourite bands on my left wrist, and a couple on my other.

I slipped into my old distressed converse, not bothering with socks at all.

I didn't look at all like myself. I would wear the same sort of thing, just with more cover over my body. I now looked like a completely different person.

I looked like one of those scene phase kids who would wear band merch for style, and not actually know any of the songs that they make. The only difference being: I do actually listen to Nirvana, and I love them.

In honour of my love for Nirvana, whilst I got ready I blasted the latest album by the Foo Fighters: Sonic Highways.

I dried my damp hair, and I left it straight. I brushed it out and started on my makeup. This consisted of light foundation to cover my adolescent sins (aka spots) and I focused the most attention to my winged eyeliner which turned out more dramatic than intended.

I looked at myself in the mirror, and I felt very insecure. But I wanted to go out. I wanted to let go. I wanted to look like I fitted in with this crowd whilst I was doing so.

I had loved the slight glimpse into the drunken party world that I had gotten a while ago. I wanted to get more drunk. I wanted to lose my mind. And I wanted to live.

I slipped my phone in my pocket and grabbed a twenty pound note from my purse and put it in my phone case. Because the party was a 'bring your own drinks' and I was living alone and had no access to alcohol, I was going to give the guy who lives in the house some money and he was going to supply me with alcohol.