Worthless

Chapter One

The cool night air hit my face with a jolt of tension. Today was just another summer night, and I lay silently in my room beforehand indulging myself in literature and music. But now wasn't the time to surround myself in such seemingly dull commodities. Now was time to be a regular teen.

The open window allowed the sultry smell of freshly mowed grass and morning dew to intermingle with the lemon air freshener that my mother loved dearly. The shit just gave me a headache. But I payed no mind as I slung one leg over and into the grass waiting to cushion my feet. I pulled my other leg out, and I was free. Simply enough. I left the window cracked as to avoid any potentially awakening squeaking.

The walk to the end of my road was a short, yet unusually solemn one. This defiantly wasn't my first time sneaking out of my house, but for some reason, this didn't feel right. Something was off. And as my ride pulled up to me slightly swerving lightly as if to some unknown tune, my fears had been recognized. There was no music for the car to be swaying to. The car was loaded with booze.

Now, I had drank before, but as all my drivers ed classes had taught me, drinking while behind a wheel could be messy business. Little did I know, the car isn't where I would run into trouble tonight. The ride over to the designated area was an obnoxiously loud one. But I found after I downed a few shot, I cared less and less of the noise. I even chirped in boisterously on the conversations of strangers and friends alike.

Once all six of us (they had really packed the car) arrived safely to the old house, my tensions begun to fade. I was here. In one piece. And I'll be damned if I don't have a good time.

My feet clumsily flopped into the door, and I made my way up the stairs to join my peers. My black hair was in a careless messy bun, pale skin glowing around my black tank top. Black eyes peering at my surroundings, attempting to find a trace of familiarity. And familiarity struck me dead in the face. Hard.