The Party was Killer.

Have you ever woken up feeling.... dead? I mean, so hung over you feel like you're floating? So drugged that you're still high and feel transparent? So tipsy nothing looks familiar? Those days when you wake up and ask yourself who you left with, and why are there rocket sheets on his bed? That's.... Legitimately wasted. Like, for real. Now, imagine that times ten. That's how I felt getting up that morning. So stoned and boozer out, it was hard to breathe.

So weird, my best guy friend is pretending I wasn't there because I can't even form logical sentences. But I didn't remember him at the rave the night before night. And.... Why was I in his bed? Did I..... No. I wasn't that high. I mean.... Look at him!

Elko was.. Charming. Not hot charming, but just so sweet and funny and a hopeless sexy cause it was hard not to love him. I did. He was smart and funny and was totally gonna be a billionaire or a mad genius one day. Who knew, maybe he'd grow into his looks. He was a keeper.

We hit it right off the bat in 6th grade. Both in orchestra, both for the violin, he didn't mind being my punching bag. Win-win! I loved that stupid kid. So when he told me our freshman year that he was in love with me..... Things got hard.

Two different schools, two different views, two different feelings. Poor kid. But we stayed friends. Now, 17 and reckless, we were thick as thieves. But not..... This thick.

"Elko? Dude help me out. Biggest. Hangover. Ever. But that rave was fuckin fantastic! When did you get there? How did you even know about it?" I asked him, stripping down to my underwear and a pushup bra. I know it was sick taunting him. But I did it all the time. And he surely didn't mind.

Elko kept getting ready. Shaving. Why was he being a jerk? I may have just blown his mind last night and he's treating me like a $3 hooker! "Babe? Elko? Don't piss me off, bestie. What happened last night?"I asked, stepping in to his bathroom half naked. My reddish brown hair cascaded in a sexy Bed-head way just below my bra. I puckered out my perfectly sized red lips and whipped out my green puppy dog eyes.

Nothing. What the he'll was wrong with this kid? This was like his own wet dream here! Why was I not rolling on the ground with him this very minute? I mean, I was pretty strung up and I was liking these drug effects that made me feel like I was a foot in the air and invincible. I didn't feel a headache after all that vodka at all. I probably would have gone for him and I right then and there.

He still ignored me. So, I resorted to my middle school ways. I punched his arm.

Here's where it got weird. I went through it.

I mean, not like I punch like a girl because I don't. My hand literally went through Elko's arm. What kind of drugs did I TAKE? and he STILL didn't hear me. I panicked. Because right then, I looked in the mirror.

No reflection. No. Fucking. Reflection. HOLY SHIT.

When I looked down, my clothes were on. I wasn't half naked anymore. The clothes were back on. Oh, and get this. The floating wasn't a drug effect. It was legit. And when Elko started moving, so did I. It was like I had to stick by him. Like we were tethered.

Then I started to fit the pieces together. One, this may be the result of Elko and I watching too many sic-fi and horror movies together, but I drew one conclusion with my deductive reasoning and one conclusion.

I was dead.. Literally.

Now, in order to understand the magnitude of how shocked and upset I was, you must first understand that I do not show emotion. I don't talk about feelings.I didn't cry when my mom left my dad, when my sister killed herself, when my best friend died.... Nothing. Psychiatrists are just really smart, lazy people, not confidants. so when I hyperventilated, the world pretty much exploded. I'm selfish. And I know it.