Keira

s i x t e e n

The party scene grew on Keira like an infectious disease.

She became a girl made of liquor and smoke and flashing lights and late nights and stolen kisses and aching hearts.

It didn't matter where or when, she'd be there with a flick of her hair and a twirl of her skirt.

The only reason she liked to go was to drown out the very real problems she faced every day.

Keira thought that alcohol was the best thing that anyone had ever invented. After knocking back a couple shots, she could temporarily forget how her mother left one night and never came home and how her father used to drink more than she did and how her grades slipped and friends grew faker and her happiness shrank. She was just a girl in a dress, dancing in the middle of the night like nobody's watching, leaving her problems for tomorrow to resolve.

Because that's what she did.

She kept pushing back her problems so she wouldn't have to face them.

She hummed along to the catchy song blaring on the stereo system. She danced into the kitchen where the drinks were stashed and grabbed a bottle of vodka. She liked the burn in her throat as it traveled down. It reminded her that she was alive, something she'd forget if not for things like that.

Keira stumbled out the door of the house, resting outside on the cold porch, her arms over the edge of the railing, the bottle's contents going faster than she'd expected.

"Why, Keira? Why do you do this?" Her head shifted to the side and she blew tendrils of her hair off her face. Mitchell. He was dressed in a plaid, button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up part way. He held a beer in one hand.

"Don't you know? It's all a game. I'm the bad girl, and this is where I play."

Keira threw her head back and laughed. The sound sent shivers down his spine. It was so cold, so empty, so lifeless. Humor was drained from her voice. The dead look in her eyes caught him by surprise. Perhaps there was more to the dark queen of Westlake than what he knew. Mitchell wondered if she was even alive. He wondered if there was someone real under her make up and tall shoes and flirty smirks. He blinked twice.

Keira gazed into her bottle, now more than half empty, before downing more of it. She wanted to get rid of everything she knew. Burn it all down. But she could only try to get rid of the memories. Even then it didn't last forever.

Mitchell shook his head. How could he be so stupid?

Of course there's nothing more to Keira. There's never substance to girls like her.