Killing It On The Dancefloor

How?

 "I fucking hate these heels" Karin noted, glancing into the mirror to see her friend Raina behind her. She took a moment to look down at the heels which she complained about, then back at herself in the mirror. She wasn't a bad looking individual. A solid 8, at least. She had strawberry-blonde hair which flowed effortlessly down to her shoulders, not quite curly, but definitely not straight. Her gray eyes always seemed to be lost in thought, but in reality, her personality wasn't exactly one to take pride in. In high school, she'd passed with flying colors, but in the years after, things seemed to take a complete U-turn. At twenty, she'd already experimented with nearly every recreational drug you could name and had at least one of every creatively named alcoholic beverage.

She'd thrown her entire possibility of being a biologist down the drain to experience the club scene and see what all of the excitement was about, and one could definitely assume that she had no regrets about this, but, in truth, she had no time for regret. Who would when their day consists of waking in another man's bed, finding out where they are, taking a taxi home, finding a dress, doing their makeup, calling their friends, going to the club, getting drunk, and continuing the cycle all over again.

"You chose them." Raina joked, tying her dark, glossy hair into a tight ponytail. This was her signature piece to every look. Raina wasn't some childhood friend, just some girl that Karin ran into by chance one evening a few months prior. With Karin, no one ever really stuck around to be her companion, but this, of course, didn't strike a nerve. She could easily charm someone else with her looks and shitty sense of humor just to have someone's couch to crash on.

"Hurry up!" Raina complained, snatching her keys off of a hook by the door and standing there, admiring the shine of her freshly-manicured nails.

"Will you just calm your mammaries, woman?" Karin remarked in a rude tone. The news had caught her attention.

Over the past few weeks, some mystery virus had broken out nearby, and no cure had come out. The plain woman on the screen just blandly notified the viewers of the first case in their city. Karin, already bored of this, snatched up her maroon clutch and walked to Raina. From there, they headed to the club, adequately named 'The Raunch'. The 'C' in 'Raunch' resembled a horseshoe, tying it to its inspiration.

It seemed the night was going fine. Not even an hour in, Raina was out of sight, and Karin was pounding down some fruity little cocktail named 'The Peachy Palomino'. Some song blasted, half drowning out the cheering of drunk girls, and laughter of drunk bachelors. But between the pounding of the bass and crowd, her ears made out the sound of a shriek and breaking glass. As quickly as the sound happened, she ripped a small handgun out of her purse, whipping her body in that direction, finger near the trigger, but not quite on it. The music cut quickly, and the crowd's hormone-drunk happiness whipped itself into a panicked froth. Everyone bolted in different directions, trampling those who couldn't collect themselves soon enough. The bartender ducked underneath of the bar, quivering, but Karin pulled herself on top of the counter, looking for some vantage point. Several feet above her, the normal lights flickered, then turned themselves on completely, revealing a truly gruesome scene. 2 creatures with blood-soaked faces turned their hungry, beady eyes upwards to Karin. She pointed the gun at them. She could easily take them out if she had to, but instead, she threw off her heels and threw herself to the ground, bolting as quickly as she could out of the club and down the street. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed, but she kept running until she reached Raina's apartment. Luckily, she still had the keys, so she fumbled with them, unlocked the door, and then slid to the ground after the door shut behind her, her chest heaving as she whimpered.