Midnight

Who Cares?

I am a legend. I have completely destroyed every single opponent who has come in my way. You must be thinking, how? What competition is she utterly dominating? 

Why don't you go ask Tristan Jackson. He should be on the floor. Unconscious. 

No, I wasn't strong enough to physically knock him out, but my liver was. 

Yea, that's right. I beat one of the largest, bulkiest dudes at Charleston High School in a drinking contest. You wouldn't expect it coming from a one hundred pound girl, but I had the best teacher. 

Tequila shots. 

I love the feeling of the smooth glass brushing against my lips, the bitter liquid sliding down my throat, and the satisfaction of winning every single time. I'm the wild card that no one expects, and I can't lie and say that I don't enjoy it.

Tristan, starting quarterback of the Charleston Panthers football team, laughed when I challenged him. I love when others test me, it really heightens my wickedness. 

After about 5 shots, Tristan started to loose himself. He had already been drunk before entering this contest, but still agreed to the rules of the game. Something else you need to know about me; I always make myself clear. I put all my cards out on the table. Take it or leave it.

 The crowd seemed to be enjoying the suspense though. They were surprised I had even last this long. Never underestimate a Rosario.

A few more shots later, and I was victorious. His intoxicated expression was my prize, and he really took the cake tonight. He physically fell out of his chair. How humiliating! I shot the crowd one of my signature smirks, basking in the glory. It wasn't like the win was a surprise, but it's always nice to gloat.  

The crowd cheered, astonished at my size and alcohol intake. I think my limit is 10 shots? That's around the time that I usually black out, but I mean, who can even remember? And I wasn't that short, 5'3 to be exact. 

However, winning and drinking always has its downfall. Soon after I received my nonexistent crown, I left the party, taking to the streets of Gully Iowa. 

Iowa's such a quaint place, but we certainly know how to party. 

"Either someone spiked my drink, or I've met my limit." I spoke to no one but the darkness of the night, clamping my hand over my forehead. The world was starting to shift a little, the moon slightly tilting from one side of the sky to the other. 

I've always enjoyed the moon. Its white light cast a purple like gleam across the alley, creating a variety of shadows. Birds chirped in the distance; enjoying the midnight breeze.  

Birds are lucky. They don't have to worry about anything other than surviving. Once born, these little aviators have to learn to fly on their own. They jump from the nest: death or life is their outcome. 

Their parents leave them, and they're okay with it.

"Sam?" A mysterious voice popped up from behind me, interrupting my thoughts. A typical person would probably be frightened, but I welcome strangers. 

"Sorry, but I don't think I'm the girl you're looking for." I put my hands in the air as if I was in trouble. I pivoted around, surprised to see that no one was in front of me. "Huh," I sighed. "I swore I just heard a voice." 

I scanned the area in front of me trying to convince myself that I wasn't crazy. Reality check: too late. There was no human being to be seen. Nothing, nada, nilch. I shrugged my shoulders and turned back towards my original path. I really just wanted to get home and watch some Netflix.