TOUCH II

First Chapter.

It was the beginning of a new era for Jordan. And a new state.

New York.

The first thing she did after moving into a new state was attend a party. She wasn't alone this time. Her noble steed, Ian Muller stood next to her as they watched people dance, do drugs and ruin their adult lives. Same atmosphere, more grown people.

These people have been at it since high school. Of course, evidently, some were exposed to parties when they reached college. It was clear in the way those inexperienced individuals drank until they blacked out, no limits.

"I don't think this was a good idea." Ian yelled into her ear so he could be heard through the loud music.

It wasn't a good idea. Jordan hasn't had alcohol since two years prior. She hasn't been at a party, hasn't smoked, nothing of the sort.

What Ian didn't understand, was that that wasn't a good thing.

For the past two years, Jordan had been grieving her thirteen year old sister, who'd committed suicide after being gang raped. The first year she spent enclosed in her sister's bedroom for days until her parents had to force her to go to school. She spent two years going to therapy twice a week. It took a year and a half of those sessions for her to tell Liya's story. To disclose the truth about that night and what had happened.

Will, one of the perpetrators, was arrested, but the rest of the young boys weren't. The idiot refused to pull them down with him. In their POV that was a sign of true loyalty. In Jordan's family's POV it was disgusting and ruthless.

She needed to have this again. It made her feel like everything was back to normal. She took a sip of cranberry vodka. She missed the burning sensation it would cause her chest.

"I miss this. It's peaceful." Jordan said, although she hadn't spoken loud enough for Ian to hear.

Ironically, the 'peace' she was referring to was the exact opposite of the word. A girl from the party now got up onto the table and started twerking like her life depended on it. The crowd cheered her on and poured alcohol at her feet and body.

Ian shook his head, finally fed up, he left the room. Jordan sighed, rolling her eyes to follow after him.

She pushed through a crowd of people until she reached the exit door, getting outside to the warm evening breeze. The sun was just beginning to set, the sky a soft orange color.

She found Ian leaning against the porch railings.

"Still sensitive, I see." she joked, standing directly in front of him.

Ian looked up at her, a deep frown in his features.

"This isn't a joke, Jordan. I don't want you to end up like the people in there." he pointed towards the party.

"You mean to say I came here to drink my sorrows away?" she asked.

Ian shrugged. "Am I wrong?"

Jordan huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yes. You are. But when are you not?"

The young boy raised his blonde eye brows, his eyes telling Jordan that it was in fact the other way around.

Ian had grown to be a good influence on Jordan. When she refused to get out of bed, he'd somehow convince her to. When she didn't want to go to therapy, he talked her into believing it would benefit her. He'd said something along the lines of how it would expand her psychological views, and broaden her knowledge of the way her own mind functions.

Most importantly, though, the young boy was there every second, of every day. When she cried, when she screamed, when she begged and pleaded for him to 'go the fuck away', he would walk out of her door, only to return the next day to pry her further.