Paradise

VII

Sadness is favoring the burn of whiskey to the pain of memory.

Paradise's face held an unfamiliar expression as she climbed out of the tiny window in her room, a mischievous smirk.

Parker grinned widely as Paradise's dark curls came into veiw and she entered Zach's red veggie van.

Zach smiled sweetly as he turned from the driver's seat. "Hay gurl. I'm Zach, this lovely lass here-" he gestures to the blonde girl in the passenger seat. "-is Maggie, Parker's sister. Those fuckheads in the backseat are Houston and Freddie." Paradise smiles shyly as she looks back at the firey-haired Houston and the hispanic looking Freddie.

"Nice to meet you" she offers and Maggie grins, turning completely around to see Paradise.

"Jesus, my brother was right. You are one gorgeous girl. I might have to snap you up myself." Maggie winks and Paradise blushes. Parker grabs Paradise's hand assuringly.

They arrived at the party quickly, the bass of dubstep vibrated against their feet as they approached the large red door.

The door opened and the six teenagers entered the house, Hunter, Zach, Maggie and Freddie dispersing themselves into the crowd. Paradise makes a bee-line to the array of alcohols and pops open a bottle of JackDaniels whiskey.

"You like to drink?" Parker asks, raising an eyebrow.

Paradise nodded.

She nodded because she was nothing more then an ellaborate ruse of large shirts and baggy pants and long sleeves rubbing against new cuts and playing with sickly looking greenish mashed potatoes and lying on the cold, dirty, cracked linoleum floor in a puddle of her own tears. And angry red slashes on wrists, and the sadness that was held in each of the purple bruises that littered her perfectly imperfect face and icey blue eyes that reminded a certain boy of frozen lakes and clear skies, and dark circles under those eyes that were cold, but not hateful, with words that were a symphony of melody and beautiful harmony.

The girl who's father was an angry drunken junkie liar, and though he was a terrible father and a horrible human being, Paradise was a daddy's girl.

She was just a depressed, stressed, hot mess, who enjoyed the burn of alcohol in her throat and the feeling of numbness that came with it.

It seemed in a cloud-like haze she moved away from Parker, and somehow ended up in the darkened livingroom with a red solo cup containing rohypnol, dancing wildly to the loud siren-like music as the lights strobed to catch the dark brown strands of her hair and dance upon the black eyelashes that framed her icy blue eyes that reminded a certain boy of frozen lakes and clear skies.

A pale hand shot out from the crowd, wrapping around her thin waist and dragging her up the stairs and into a dimly lit bedroom.

Three other boys appeared in the room, evil smirks dancing upon their darkened feautures.

And their hands ripped at her clothes.