Other // m.c.

ONE

        She poured cup after cup down her throat, wincing at the taste of alcohol. But she was used to it now, getting drunk every night. Stumbling over towards a seat, she plopped down wearily and watched the people on the dance floor through squinted eyes, ones that she could barely keep open.

        It was obvious most of the people were having fun, laughing and swaying to the music. What made her different was that she couldn't.

        She just couldn't enjoy herself, no matter how hard she tried. But just like every other night, she gave herself the futile and ineffective hope that she would have fun this time.

        Standing up from her seated position, she sent a seductive smile towards a random guy and he gave her a lazy grin back. He came over, and she brushed off the remaining hesitance she felt towards the whole situation and grabbed his hand.

        Later on, while they were grinding against each other on the dance floor, she had completely forgotten that she didn't even know the guy's name yet, just like every single time she did this. And when he slid his hand up her thigh, she didn't care; instead she only wrapped one leg around his waist.

        The man led her up the stairs. When he pushed her roughly against a wall, she relished the feeling of being wanted by somebody, though she knew it was only temporary. He trailed rough kisses down her body, tugging her short skirt off. 

        She was pretty sure the stranger was at least five years older than her. And she knew it was slutty of her to give her body over to him without restraint. But she told herself it was going to be okay. She lied that it was the only way to make her whole again. 

        That gave her the strength to unzip his jeans. He stared at her with lustful eyes. She wavered under his gaze, and it suddenly dawned on her just what she was doing. It was too late though.

        She was thrown onto the bed and the guy climbed on top of her. Tears streamed down her face, but in thier drunken states, none noticed, not even herself. The tears weren't even regretful ones either- they were ones of loss. She knew what was to come soon.

        Afterwards, he left her naked on the bed. She lay there for a while, just waiting for her numb legs to feel again, before she stood up and dressed, head hung down low in shame. 

        Staggering down the stairs, she limped through the rippling crowd, trying to focus on the blasting music instead of the throbbing pain between her legs. Glancing down at the floor, she managed to push herself towards the door, and slipped out of the building. 

        Her ears rang in the silence of the night, still remembering the pulsing sounds from before. She bit her lip and leant against the wall outside, slowly sliding down until she was crouching, hoping that no one would spot her in the night. 

        Unfortunately, lights were hung on the edge of the roof, shining over her shaking form. Despite that, she was too awash in her guilt to notice. Her daily hookups only caused her accumulated shame, and an engorged sense of emptiness, even more so than before.

        Because she had felt it. She had felt the brief sense of love and affection in each kiss, touch, and caress. But it had been misplaced- the love wasn't meant for her. She hated herself for being so dependent on others, so desperate for somebody to care, so...

        "Hey, are you okay?" A hand was placed on her elbow. The girl jerked back in alarm. "I'm sorry!" the voice exclaimed. "It's just me. Don't worry, I won't hurt you."

        Still dizzy from all the alcohol she had consumed, she glanced up at him and whimpered, "Help me." His face was barely visible, but through the gloom she saw him furrow his eyebrows in worry.

        "I'm Michael," he said softly. A boy, roughly her age, appeared into view. Bright green hair slightly covered one eye, and a huge smile adorned his face, though she could tell it was piteous. She just stared at his smile for a while. It practically reached his ears. Literally, she thought.

        How could somebody be so happy? 

        She was brought back to reality as the boy finished his statement. "Michael Clifford."

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I had said before that I might post a few chapters for some upcoming stories if I was in the mood, so here you go: the first chapter of "Other". Comment (I don't mind if you make suggestions, or correct mistakes) and vote if you like it!