Unhelpful Guide To Senior Year | ✓

6

I set down my pen and sigh. Finally, I had completed the 500-word essay for English and I look down at my words with a smile.

This is even better than the last time.

"Listen up loser, we are going to a party," Irina bursts into my room with this announcement and completely invades my privacy.

"I am not going to any party Irina," I announce but I place suddenly.

The essay I just finished was my lifesaver last time because I told Irina how it carried a lot of grades and Irina may be a bit happy-go-lucky but one thing she understood was not compromising your future.

This time though, like an idiot, I had completed my essay early.

Don't get me wrong and think I hate parties. I actually enjoy them. Mostly because I love observing people and there is just something about lights, the mindless teens with no filters and the energy of a party that makes me get excited.

But not today. Because today hosting the party was Carter 'the Creep' Mcgee. I certainly did not have the energy to haul my arse over to a party where I knew I had to deal with trying to politely reject a guy who was not used to hearing no.

Of course, though, the look on Irina's face melted my resolve and I gave in.

"Fine! But I'll be the designated driver because if you are, we'd still not have a designated driver," I defeatedly say. Asking Irina not to drink is the most ridiculous notion anybody could come up with.

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I sigh as I park my car in front of the house as Irina excitedly gets out of the car.

I slowly make way inside and take in the sight before me.

The house isn't like a mansion, but it's walls are alabaster and there are huge columns supporting a grand 4-storeyed bungalow. Carter the Creep may be a pervert but he sure came from money.

Maybe that's why he refuses to take no as an answer.

I silently wonder what this house might look like if the lot wasn't jammed with cars with teenagers and red solo cups littering nearly every inch of the space. No Guidance was bursting through the speaker and I could literally feel its beats travel from the top of my head and down my spine.

The door was ajar so we just ambled in and were immediately blessed with the sight of Matthew Martin, some distant cousin of Irina, playing tongue hockey with Christen Kelly.

Her cheerleader body on display through her short dress and her chocolate skin seemed to gain extra glow under the dim lighting.

I have been used to knowing everything about to happen next for the past almost one month that I feel like screaming and hissing at every living being in sight because this party was a variable, and I hate algebra.

As Irina groans and turns away from the unfortunate sight in front of us, she spots the kitchen and her eyes gleam and I get a bit excited too.

When I had first tried beer, I was hungover for 13 hours. Then I tried it again, again and again until now I can easily hold my fair share of alcohol.

I look around in the fridge for some Coca-Cola for my beer when I feel a presence behind me.

I immediately know it isn't Irina because the vibes of the person are looming, impending, intimidating.

I straighten up and turn to meet the face of Carter the Creep a few inches away.

Ew. Everything about him shouted 'WASTED!' From his malodorous breath to his bleary eyes to his halfway unbuttoned shirt to his dishevelled mess of blond hair.

He looks at me and gives me a smug smirk. I can't spot Irina anywhere.

I feel chills running through each and every part of my body and I slide sideways to get out of his proximity.

This is his house even if he's drunk. He manoeuvres easily, fumbling only a little and now he has me completely encased.

"Finally, I have you right where I want you," my fight or flight reflexes are heightened by his creepy statement and I try to maintain an unfazed expression.

"Listen, Carter, you are drunk. Let's not do something regretful. Let me go," I instruct him the same way I used to instruct Sherlock, our long-dead dog.

He just sneers and pretending not to hear me, entwines a hand in my chin-length black hair.

I start struggling and he clamps his free hand to keep both my wrists pressed to my torso. I try to scream but he just pulls my hair hard.

"You would be even more attractive if you kept your hair longer," he warbles out.

"Why are you doing this? Let me go, please," the last thing I want to do is beg in front of that bastard but I have to play at every advantage.

"What if someone finds out? If you don't stop I'll put this in my Oakwood Herald. I'll- I'll..." words are failing me as my eyes tear up. His grip on my hand in impossibly steel and his fingers are digging into my bones

"You'll what? Huh, babe? Tell the principal? Well, news flash but there is a reason I am not expelled till date," this time, my tears seem to not listen as they stream further down, leaving a trail behind.

I had imagined such a scenario a lot and every time I used to ninja my way out. But this time, the music muffles my protests as Carter lowers his head near my neck, hot breath feeling like it would scorch me forever.

Just as I thought it was over, Carter's body was no longer pressed against me but fallen on the floor.

And standing over him, leg ready for another kick was Daniyal. Hazel eyes looking like an inferno and jaw set in a dangerous way.

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A/n: I was feeling creative and bored so I made the cover you can see above.

What are your thoughts about this chapter? It wasn't too downplayed, was it? Like sorry if that happened but the contest has a max limit of 10000.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

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