anathema
əˈnaθəmə/
noun
1.something or someone that one vehemently dislikes.
"racial hatred was anathema to her"
synonyms:abhorrent, hateful, odious
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The bass thumped through the soles of the boys feet as he navigated through the pulsing light illuminated room. He moved through the crowd of moving bodies with ease, the people creating a pathway for their host. The late night-early morning party's scenes moved around him in bright flashes, cups of illegally received alcohol spilling strongly scented liquids all over the floor. The same smell was in his breath, it was undeniable. Drunkenness surrounded his very being; he already knew the sort of headache he would experience the next day.
Random girls slipped things in his pant-pockets, he offered a smirk or a wink as he passed by them. Carlos De la Vega was the playboy. {INTERNATIONAL PLAYBOY ARMYS WHERE YOU AT} He was apart of one of the richest families in the entire city, and therefore expected and received all the attention with open arms.
He treated everyone the same way, except for Zena Ibrahimi. He didn't know why, but he had a thing for this masculine-ly feminine ruffian of a person. Normally, someone having anything to do with sports was not even apart of his vocabulary, but he supposed it was fate's doing that Zena drifted into his life.
Carlos never seemed to get enough of the girl's mist grey eyes and obnoxious, goose like laughter, that he would ever tease her about.
Between loud snorts, and failed efforts at gasping for air, the boy would finally mutter to her, 'Breathe, mother goose,' and she would punch him in the arm.
That was how the used to be anyways. When Carlos changed, almost anyone who used to associate themselves with him drifted away from his displeasurable behavior and adapted personality traits. His carelessness and callous behavior , the way he behaved as if he was better than everyone else. No one really liked him, he didn't have any close friends. It was all after his mother died. He tried to cover his pain with a hateful façade, something most people knew.
Suddenly, the party died. Lights stopped flashing, music stopped playing, and all movement ceased. Everyone was frozen in awkward positions, except Carlos. The government had that kind of control over people. No one was safe in that horrible city.
"Ah, Carlos," a voice said, as people grabbed the boy from behind, "It's really awful that we have to take you in the midst of such a fiesta," the male voice echoed off the walls of the room, "but duty calls."
"Who," the boy choked on air, still disbelieving that this was actually happening to him, "Who are you?"
"We have you're parents," the man said, "No time for questions, time to leave."
"You can't take me," the boy scoffed, delusional from all the alcohol.
The lights turned on, the scar-faced man standing at the doorframe, "Really?" he said with a chuckle, before disappearing behind the wall.
A hand was placed over his mouth as he was taken away, his screams being stifled as the world turned into a haze around him as he slowly moved into unconsciousness.
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LAST ANATHEMA CHAPTER!!! ARE YOU READY?
YOU ARE READING
The R.A.C.E.
General FictionThe R.A.C.E. happens each year, on the 21st of December. A group of five teenagers had been selected by the government, and are extracted from their homes at 4:30 am. After that, no one remembers them, all they know is that they were gone, and proba...
