Toxicity

                                                                   Jimmy

I’m staring at myself in a mirror thinking fuck me you’re an ugly bastard. The mirror is half broken and dirty with smudged fingerprints. A toilet flushes behind me and I remember where I am. The world around me focuses again. The kid inside the cubicle leaves without washing his hands. Disgusting.

Some bogan stumbles through the doorway; he reeks of liquor. I look at him through my peripherals; I know his type. Binge-drinking, pot-smoking construction worker who wears his pants eight inches too low, doesn’t do any real work, and whistles when pretty girls walk by. The evidence is all in his presentation. If he sees me, starring at myself in the mirror, he’ll call me a fag and try to start a fight with me.

He finishes peeing in the trough and looks remotely pleased with himself, despite the fact that his pants are covered in urine. He doesn’t notice. He passes behinds me, haphazardly washes his hands and stumbles back onto the dance floor. I breathe a small sigh of relief.

I can hear the music briefly, whilst the door is open. And then just the faint drum and bass through the walls. Not the kind I like. But then again, I’m in a fucking seedy backstreet club in The Valley, of course it’s not the kind I like.

Distractions. I look back at my reflection; the bathroom is empty. For now.  I look deep into my own eyes, and search them for answers. Can I do this? She’s out there, right now. Singing. Dancing. My heart beats furiously.

For a long time, there is complete silence. I just stare into the mirror. Don’t chicken out now you loser. I leave the bathroom; almost retching from the smell of alcohol, urine, and vomit.

                                                                   Sarah

I don’t really like this club. It’s dirty and I don’t really like the music they play, but there was no cover charge and it’s where everyone was going. Dragged along, like always; never get to go to the places I want to go. I look down at my jeans again; there’s a wet patch on the crotch area because some idiot guy thought that if he spilt his drink on me, I would let him lick it off. I can’t fucking believe it, the one time I decide to wear my Tsubis and they get fucking ruined; three hundred hard earned dollars down the drain. And my shoes: alcohol and god knows what else on them, luckily I wore the twenty dollar flats I bought from Ruby Shoes last weekend.

A fairly handsome looking guy comes up to where we are sitting and slides up next to Christina. He throws his arm around her, whispers something in her ear and the next thing I know they’re leaving together; off to the toilets, ew, or a dark, secluded corner someplace no doubt.

The second in the pack of ravenous hyenas descends upon me. He’s tall with dark brown hair and is wearing the typical clothes that boys wear to clubs. He offers to buy me a drink. I smile and play with my hair. He comes back five minutes later with a Martini. I feel kind of bad because it’s a ten dollar drink and I have absolutely no intention of sleeping with this guy. I’m nowhere near that drunk. I look at this boy, I think he said his name was Rick, but it could have easily been Nick or Dick, it’s so loud in here, I look at him and wonder how many girls he has bought drinks for tonight; am I the first? Or the hundred and first? Does it matter?

Ten minutes later, he comes back with another drink; it’s not a Martini this time, probably something stronger. I know exactly what he’s playing at. He leans towards me for a kiss; I oblige and he’s not a bad kisser, maybe a little rough. He asks me to dance. My friends are all preoccupied so I follow him onto the dance floor and we dance to Ke$ha’s latest hit. I’m having fun until his hand starts to slide down my back. I slap it away and keep dancing, but he doesn’t take the hint, so I tell him to fuck off and leave to find my friends again. Typical.