Incomplete

Chapter 13, Alexander

The music is playing out loud from the speakers. The beach party is going strong and people are already starting to get wasted. I don't exactly judge them. If I know myself correctly, I will soon join them with my own lovely drunken ass.

Here are people I've never seen before in my entire life. Some seem younger than me but then there is also this big gang with what seems to be college kids. They are dancing like there is no tomorrow.

I'm sitting on a woodstock between Dylan and Isabelle. Dylan who has his heart broken doesn't speak that much. He mostly scans the crowd looking for his girlfriend. I don't know why exactly. Perhaps he is going to confront her, but I doubt it. He still loves her too much to cause a scene in a public area.

Isabelle is wearing a red, tight top which matches my red shirt. It almost looks like we planned it out but trust me, I would never do that. Too cheesy for my taste.

Isabelle is squeezing my right arm and watching the waves drift towards the beach. It's weird that the only three times I have met Isabelle have always been here at the beach.

She is nearly the only one talking. I'm not the person who loves to babble about random shit just for fun and Dylan, well, Dylan is just depressed. He has already drunk a lot.

"How's senior year going so far?" Isabelle asks, trying to keep up a conversation.

"It's the same shit every year," I respond a little bit concerned over Dylan who just pours more alcohol into his mouth. Isabelle continues to chat. Dylan suddenly freezes and drops the bottle of whiskey that he held in his right hand.

"That's Nolan!" He calls out.

I glance over my shoulder just to discover the guy who was making out with Dylan's girlfriend the other day. "It was him, wasn't it!?" Dylan questions, not taking his eyes off Nolan.

"Um, yeah," I let out carefully.

Isabelle is also now staring at Nolan. Nolan has blond curly hair and he is pretty tall. He looks a few years older than us.

Dylan stands up and rushes towards Nolan. This can't be good. I jump up to follow him. Who knows what he is capable of. Isabelle stays on her seat sighing.

"Nolan!" Dylan yells, now just a couple of steps away from him. Nolan turns around looking confused. "You fucking dick!" Dylan is now right in front of Nolan.

"Calm down. Whatever this is about we can work it out," Nolan suggests and runs his hand through his messy hair, seeming nervous. Dylan clenches his hand into a fist and takes a few deep breaths before hitting Nolan right on his left cheek. Nolan cries out of the massive pain and punches back.

"Holy shit!" One of his friends shouts and joins the beating party. Fuck, this wasn't what I was expecting. Dylan receives hit after hit. I analyze the situation and decide that Dylan needs help. Here we go.

I knock Nolan over with one good kick. Everyone stops for a second to take in what just happened. I'm pretty satisfied with my input in the fight.

Out of the blue I feel someone strike a punch on me from the side. I fall over. My left side of the face starts to ache like crazy. I inhale and lift my hand to touch my cheek. It's bleeding. Fucking hell. I groan and stand back up to my feet.

"You will so pay for this!" I scream on top of my lungs and put my hands on this guys shoulders to then bend my knee. I get a hit right in his stomach. Proud, I attack the other guy who punched Dylan. Nolan is also back on his feet, again striking.

"What the fuck!" A voice I recognize yells from behind me. Before I realize, someone is dragging me away from the crowd.

"Let me go!" I shout and the grip of me loosens.

"You could have killed someone," Liam states and doesn't look happy at all. "Wait here, I need to make sure that Dylan's okay."

I sigh and lie down on the sand. My hands are covered in blood. Perfect. I need a fucking drink. I jump up and head towards another group of people. They seem to be sophomores or something like that.

"Give me that bottle," I command to one of them. He looks up at me with big eyes still holding tight to the vodka bottle. "I said, give me that damn bottle!" The boy doesn't hesitate to give it to me this time. I snatch the full bottle and start to drink out of it. It tastes like detergent, a flavor that has grown extremely familiar to me.

I take a look around me to catch sight of someone I know but there isn't anyone around. At last I decide to sit down and lean against a tree away of the happy partying crowd of teenagers. It doesn't take long before a quarter of the vodka is gone. And then another quarter.

I feel tipsy and my head is spinning like crazy as I look up at the night sky. My eyes try to focus but it's impossible. I try to look at my tattoo but my hand feels heavy as I try to lift it.