SCARED

The atmosphere here is totally fucked, like. I'm at the bar lookin’ onto the dance floor and I see this huge group of boys dominating the whole thing. No girls at all, least the ones I'd know. Half of these people seem like they're out from the city or some nearby suburb or something.. Makes sense though, as we did book a pretty known DJ for tonight's set, seems like they all came for her. Last set of the night though, 2 A.M., and I just can't wait to get the fuck out of here, I'm totally drowsy and blotto and my head is feeling like a fucking open wound. I light a Marlboro I had in my coat pocket, thankfully it didn't crush. My problem is that I barely bring my full box anymore, too many people wanna bum off me when I do have some. So, now I just bring one or two, stuff ‘em in my bra, and leave it alone till most convenient.

I look over the counter and see Neville hard at work mixing something for himself, I don't know what it is. Come to think of it, I haven't seen anyone in a while. Seems like they all fucked off upstairs or something or maybe went to the backyard. I lean over the counter and try to get Nev's attention.

       –Nev.. I go, Where the hell is everybody? Neville looks surprised to see me as if I haven't been standing here the last ten fuckin’ minutes.

       –Huh? Oh.. I don’t know… he shouts – ...Probably upstairs.

       –I'm gonna go see, you come get us if anything weird happens alright? He nods at me and then we fist bump and I'm out.

       I swear its like a fucking convention hall  in here. All types of fucking people and cliques I've never even seen before. There's a few girls I see that I recognize but not one of these boys is familiar to me, which worries me a bit, weird fuckin’ environment. It is a Saturday though, so that's a thing. Most juicers and frat boys are looking for some shit to do at this hour and we've had a few like this before, so this isn't unusual to me. I hop up the stairs and see Mack guarding the door to Fiona's room.

       —Hey Mackie, gotta make a quick stop. Mack looks at me all beady eyed like he'd never seen me before and I find that I have to swipe my hair off my eyes and take off my sunglasses…

       —Ohh… Yeah… He groans. They're in Fifi's room I think…

       —Right, thanks babe. Lousy, fucking lazy fucks. This is what I pay them to do? Rolling like fucking bowling balls all god damn night, they could barely recognize themselves in a fucking mirror had I held it up to them. ‘Specially Mack, what the fuck was he doing high in the middle of a shift? Like I couldn't tell. I knock on Fiona's door and out pops Shui's round little head.

      —What's up? She squeaks.

      —I want in, I croak and attempt to find my wallet through my pants, still got it.

      —We’re in a hand here, I hear Fiona say from inside.

      —Figures, I want in.. Shui's got no other choice but to let me in and to my surprise the whole fucking calvery is here in tow. George, Oli Wilk, Tomy, Fifi and Evelyn, and Shui all in a circle playing poker. My eyes shift to the bed where I spot Caroline passed out cold with one leg off the mattress..

      —Is she okay? I say with hopefully enough concern.

      —Yeah, she's alright, Tommy replies.. –She passed out like twenty or some odd minutes ago. She's been drinking all night.

      —Drinking what? I ask, only to have my answer come in the form of Fiona holding up a 40oz bottle of Hurricane, of which everyone else is enjoying.

      —Got anymore of that?

      —Yeah, Oli grunts. -By Caroline's bag. Apparently Care-Bear was the one who brought these fucking atom bombs. You know, I never noticed how much she drank until recently. I thought I was a fucking alcoholic but Care-Bear seems to be slowly, but surely, keen on giving me a run for my money. I grab a bottle and examine Caroline's disposition. She looks so beautiful when she's asleep. She has this calm look of contention. You can tell she really fuckin’ needed rest. Poor thing… I stumble back over to the circle and sit down. My head is fucking killing me, but, the hangover's probably gonna be cured through some means, always is, so I'm not worried.

      —New game.. Fiona says with a puss in her voice.

      —What’s in the pot? I say with the Marlboro hanging from my mouth like I'm Joanne Camel.

      —Seven hundred, I think, George replies.

      —I'll raise fifty, Tomy goes.

      —Call, I say.

      —Mavis… Fiona questions with that fucking voice she does when she wants to crucify me over some bullshit… —Who's watching the floor?

      —Neville and Sawbuck.. I respond, hoping that satisfies her, subconsciously knowing it won't, and having my theory proven correct.

      —Okay, good.. She purrs.. –But I mean who else is watching the floor. The stairs I mean.

      —Don't you see Big Mack out there? I objected, —He didn't even recognize me coming up the stairs, he's fucking high on Molly or some shit, you may wanna check that out. Fiona, hot and bothered, gets up and walks out the door all authoritative and shit.

      —Fuck's with her? I ask Evelyn, who couldn't look less interested if she tried.

      —Cocaine.. she mouths to me all secretive, like.

      —Fuuuuuuckk me, I want sooome– I groan like a starving child.

      —Shh! Shui belts at me.. -You'll wake Caroline. I look over to Caroline who snores silently with her head facing the wall…

      —Nothing, I say to Shui, Nothing on this planet is gonna wake our Sleepy Beauty. Fuckin’ look at her! Out cold and warm inside. Shui looks at Evelyn and Evelyn just shrugs. Suddenly, Fiona bursts through the door, seemingly startling everyone.

      —I can't find Mack. Where the hell is Mack? Fiona sniffs with an obvious strain in her voice that alludes to recent and ample amounts of cocaine usage.

      —How would we know? I ask earnestly.

      —You were the last one to see him, Fiona barks, Did you see him leave behind you?

      —Noo.. I shake my head like a puppy.. —Should I have been watching the guard? Is that my job now?

      —More people are coming in, Fiona moans while rubbing her neck self-soothingly.. —We really fucking need security right now.. Fiona then snaps her fingers and—as if she’s Houdini’s reincarnated fucking ghost—Oli, Tomy, and George all rise almost in unison and leave the room.. Soon, one by one we all leave the room, with Caroline still asleep and our money firmly stashed in her bag. We all run single file down the stairs as best as our intoxicated bodies would let us and observe the space. I didn’t notice at first, but some guy turns to George and asks him something before bolting up the stairs.

—What the fuck did he want? I snap at George.

–He was just asking where the bathroom wass… George says with an almost carefree misdemeanor..

–How many fucking times have I told you, Fiona began, pointing her finger at George, —The fucking attendees use the fucking downstairs bathrooms only! Fuck! Fiona throws her hands up and moves into the crowd followed by Evelyn. Shui looks at me and gestures over to them before following them and I myself do the same. I look back at George and Tommy and mouth the words.. Go Check.. At them and they seem to understand because they immediately turn around and head upstairs.. Oliver follows them too but only after I gesture to him to do so.. Lousy junkie fuck.

The girls and I all lumber over to the Bar where Neville stands obviously close to nodding off. At this point our main act had begun and most of the crowd was on the dancefloor, with a few of what looked like mid-twenty year olds populating the kitchen, drinking and talking. A few of them look over to us with reactions mixed between intrigue and confusion as we stand at the bar. One guy seems to try to approach us before swinging back around to grab two cups from his friends. The man is tall and bearded with a red cardigan and glasses; looking like one of those cunts you see at ska shows or those shitty hardcore shows at bars near Elgin. He’s obviously twenty-four or twenty-five, he smells of beer and coffee for some reason.

—Can I buy one of you girls a drink? He bellows over the track.

—Fuck off! I spit back at him as he hands his drinks to Neville who seems reluctant to refill his cups. The guy just stares at us before his face distorts into some kind of warlord-warlock kind of thing, with his eyebrows all contorted and shit.

—Fucking jail-bait, fucking sluts! He lunges and snarls at us before angrily waddling hunchback over to his friends, who seem uncomfortable. We all laugh, but it’s definitely an uneasy, pained kind of laugh, which is then amplified into earnestness by Shui pointing to the large, unidentifiable wet stain on the back of his pants. We all turn around back to Neville who seems rather suspicious of the man.

—This fucking crowd, he shouts before sipping his wicked-elixor concoction of doom.

—Too true! Fiona huffs. I fucking hate these frat cunts! They’re so annoying!

—They do pay though, I chip in. Can’t deny that!

—Also true! Fiona responds, seemingly in a more cheery mood.

—Hey Neville, Have you seen Mackie? Shui asks. He was supposed to be watching the stairs, but it seems like he just up and disappeared.

–Ehhh… I think I saw him talking with Sawbuck at the door.. He didn’t really notice me or anything, so I’m not sure.

—God damn it! Fiona bellows in jest. Where are all my Employees?

Then, suddenly, Neville looks over to the stairs with his dilated eyes bulging out, looking like a stuffed teddy-bear. We all notice his demeanor and turn around. Before any of us could even really register what the fuck was going on, we see legs dangling out from the top of the staircase! Fucking Tommy, Oli, and George were all carrying the fucker who was using the bathroom! He’s got a black-eye and he’s bleeding from his mouth and he’s got bruises and shit on his arms, his shirt is ripped and his pants are unbuckled and we just all are totally speechless! The whole kitchen goes dead silent as the guy screams in agony:

–Fuck! Fuuck! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! PLEASE DON’T…—

Doooomf!! They throw him face first onto the floor, and a part of me is fucking loving this already. He tries to what looks like crawl away, but Tommy, the beastly fucker that he is, just picks him up and arm-locks him into submission. George has got his arm firmly grasped as the trio move the poor bastard into the living room.

—Tooommmyy!! Olliiiiverr!!! Fiona cries, What the fuck is going on?! What happened?!

—This sick, rapist cunt tried fucking Caroline!! George belts, furiously. We caught him trying to pull her fucking pants off! He had his fucking dick out and everything!

I could not believe it. All of us are just paralyzed, except Neville, who is quickly sobered and springing into action. Space is made on the dancefloor by the man hitting the floor, which seems to knock an already loose tooth out of his head, followed by a gush of blood which stains the carpet. All we see is Tommy and Oliver kicking and stomping the shit out of the guy, before George and Neville join in and they’re all just fucking curbing him and punting him and the crowd just looks on in fear and awe at the grizzly scene. Unable to do anything but watch. The DJ doesn’t stop though, and so you can still hear the harsh DOOMF, DOOMF, DOOMF, DOOMF, DOOMF, DOOMF, DOOMF, DOOMF hard style beat ringing out and overpowering most of the slurs and growls coming from the boys, but not the strikes. You can faintly hear the guy moaning and groaning through small fits of rage.

 —-Please! Gackk—---! Nooo–! –Stoop! I’m- I’m S-s-s..! But the gang are just so ruthlessly engaged and unsympathetic. You’d think they were trying to beat the fucker to death, and for all we knew they were!

Our attention is briefly taken away from the action toward the stairs, where a teary-eyed and unkempt Caroline stands with bubbles of spit dripping down her mouth.

—I…! Huh! Huh, huh! I wanna go hoooomee–!! She sobs. I wanna go hoooomee!! Please, take me home, pleassee?!

Fiona immediately grabs Caroline and squeezes her before Evelyn joins in, then Shui, then me. She’s just sobbing so loud, she sounds like a little kid, it’s fucking horrible. I was so scared for a second, I didn’t really know what to do. At this point it was three A.M. and at four, it was shut down time. I pull back from the group hug and they all look at me. I look at Fiona and relay the mission.

—You and I, get everybody out. Shui and Eve, I need you guys to get her stuff and get her home. Okay? They both nod and coo her up the stairs, where she starts to relax into more dry sobbing. Fiona and I stomp into the living room and she takes the stage an’ grabs the microphone;

—EVERYONE WHO IS NOT STAFF, MOVE! GET THE FUCK OUT!

The crowd is chaotic now, people are moving and shoving each other up to the door, which is then opened by Mack who is overwhelmed by the amount of people. The Dj, who’s crew at this point where lost as fuck, were ushered over into the kitchen by Sawbuck, Minnie, and Kourtney.

I look onto the sick fuck and he’s on his back shaking his head, barely conscious. I get on my knees and tell Neville and George to pick him up. They’re holding him by each shoulder and the five of us are all on our knees looking at the fucker, who can barely keep his head straight or his eyes open. A foul stench hits us like a fucking bullet train once we notice that the rank bastard shat his fucking jeans and up his back! Tommy stands up and lunges back. Oliver laughs.

—Oh shiiit, he whimpers, fucking rank! He smacks him in the back of the head and the cunt starts to fall forward before Neville and George pull him back up to face me. Neville, George and I are trying to ignore the smell. I reach into his pocket and pull his wallet out to brandish his I.D.

—Cameron Bodem.. I say in a low-tone, mocking way.

—I swear.. I-I didn’t–!

—Shut your fucking faggit mouth a second, and listen. Tell me what the fuck were you doin’ in that room, hm?

Cameron seems to try to form syllables through his gasps for air before he blurts out a pathetic—-Look… Huh.. Huh… It wasn’t me, I swear—-

—You fucking lying fucking pussy bitch! Oliver yells, We saw you! We saw you on the fucking bed you son of the fucking—--! I look up at Oliver and try to calm him down but he’s still fuming.

–Now, Cameron, if you fucking lie to me we’re gonna rip the fucking skin off your dick, strip you naked and flay you, do you know what that is? I wait for a response from the little bitch, but he’s still panting and whimpering and crying like we give a fuck.

—I’m… I'm sorry..I’m sorry, he moans.

—So, you admit what you were doing? What were you doing? He’s just swaying there, stinking up Fiona’s house and crying.

—I-....I-I-I..--

—GET HIM THE FUCK OUT! GET HIM THE FUCK OUTSIDE! HE STINKS LIKE FUCKING SHIT! TAKE HIM OUTBACK! Fiona roars in a way I've never even heard her, or any other girl, do before. And before you know it, we’re dragging him through the kitchen and out into the backyard.