Heaven & Hell

Live like were gonna die young

A. N. Okay so this little bloody thing is a mixture of Supernatural influence and my friend, Emma's, creative and... Unique style. Basically we developed this idea because we were in fits of laughter, rolling around on the ground.

Please enjoy *runs away laughing before you can start reading*

^How could they not? IM in it. And what do u mean UNIQUE? U called that girl who wanted to get rid of world hunger by having people eat wild leaves "unique".....^

Nope. I refuse to comment. *turns to lovely, frightened readers* sorry that *points at my UNIQUE friend* is Emma. Okay I have to go *distantly heard "give me that! Give me!" From emma* she's trying to get the phone!

BTW, Megah isnt a mc. We just needed a prolouge.

BTW part 2, we had already posted chapters 1 & 2 but this is new so... Oops?

~PROLOUGE BEGIN~

Megah's POV

The party was beautiful. Not perfect, the children stumbling about drunk or collapsing into graceless lumps took away from the total effect, but the ocean of shifting bodies was almost hypnotising. Everyone practically gleamed, all glitzed and glammed up, ready to impress, sparkling beneath the bright neon lights. I sha shay through the crowd, my glossed lips curving as the dancing bodies parted like the red sea beforeme. My friends flanked me, Aradna and Tessie, clad with pastel and leather in their typical, "too punk for chick, to chick for punk" style. I give them approving nods as they slipped into the crowd, in search of booze and boys. Sighing, I grab a few drinks off the tray of a nearby waiter, mentally steeling myself before stalking back to the entrance to deal with my lost little sheep, brightly colored drinks clutched in both hands.

I drift through the clumps of people and finally makes it to the beat up couch with a single dark figure sprawled on top of it, phone clutched tightly in her hands. Leaning over, my tight dress showing a bit more than necessary to the freshmen on the edges of the party, I try to gentley pry the phone from Kaylee's iron grip. After a few moments of fruitless struggle, I surrender with a sigh, forcing a drink into my friend's ring-heavy hand. Sadly the electronic device is still clutched in her claws, but i count my sucess as the martini glass lodged in her spare hand doesn't spill.

"C'mon! Drink up! You seriously need to relax. All this pressure can't possibly be healthy. This is for your own good." well, at least for someone's good, someone who has been forced to deal with this anit-social attitude all night, someone who maybe invited Kaylee in the first place, oh wait, thats me. The only reaction I recieve is a grunt.

I hear screaming somewhere in the distance, and look over to see a tall, 30 year old guy towering over a tiny brunette. He was red in the face and being forcefully held back by two people about his age. Despite the potential impending doom, the girl didnt seem to have a care in the world, having slid almost completely off her little stool in hysterical laughter. I almost feel like crying as I watch the tiny dark haired demon scoop a pile of money out of the guys pocket as he turned to yell at one of his restrainers. God, I'm gonna need that bottle of tequila that i saw earlier.

Stalking over to the pale girl I grab her arm, ripping her off the stool and dragging her away from the dangerous and potentially explosive situation, I turn while thrusting a neon glass of alcohol into Emma's hands, feeling relief at the lack of spillage. "Drink!" I yell over the sound of the music, yanking my curly ponytail hair back over my shoulder. "And stay out of trouble. What were you even doing?!" Emma doesnt answer, simply downs the drink in one gulp. Hopefully the buzz'll keep her outta my hair for a bit.

I watch, my pristine and pink acrylics tapping away on the glass of my luminesent blue cocktail, as she skips off to pool shark away another overly-muscled college boy jock into poverty. I wouldn't be surprised if she walked away tonight with over a hundred dollars, the crazy little punk. Emma's destructive path is an interesting thing to see, she goes in a seemingly random direction, no constant pattern, end goal, or motivation. though she does usually have an overlying theme, which in this case, appears to be rich bastards.

The sight before my eyes begins to blur as i lose myself in my thoughts, nice and bubbly tequilla flavored thoughts. I watch in distatant amusement as a table goes flying - thankfully free of any liquids, as college boy is kicked in the nuts by my angry looking brunette. the lump on the sofa that is Kaylee gets up and moves away from the flying furniture, never lifting her eyes from her phone. In the backround I see Emma engaged in a brawl/ screaming match with the college boy, who is still stooped in agony of the balls shot. My hands itch at the hem of my sequined dress, staring transfixed at the sparkles.

I laugh. And i laugh. I laugh until i can barely breathe, and by that point, Kaylee is sitting beside me while gently patting my back and on some app, 'Wattpad', i think. I take a deep breath, then proceeding to down the rest of my sugary concoction, a gittery buzz running through my veins.

The rest of the night slips away in a sugary blur, my mind throbbing in time with the beat of the music. Everything semed like a blurry mess, but one thing rings out crystal clear from the mess.

"Who's the designated driver again?"

I shoulda said no. But Kaylee had broken her hand - she got it crushed under the table while avoiding the flying chair. And Emma suffered from serious road rage - still angry over the lack of destruction her chair caused. I coulda asked Tessie. Or Aradna.

I barely recall how we mannaged too drive off that cliff. The last thing I remember is everyone screaming. And holding out my hands to try and slow the ground rushing up to meet us.

I always wondered wether they'd have roses or lillies at my funeral.

------

AN. Okay, hope you enjoyed, more soon with our sarcastic comments and fighting. Bye bye.

Oh ya, ps megah is dead.