The Moon Hid the Sun

January 22nd 1999

Anharad studied herself in the full body length mirror. She half turned and admired the short red dress fitted tightly to her slim figure. Annabel was most proud of her thick brown hair, ran with mild streaks of blond, that fell to her shoulders. With her olive complexion there was no denying that the seventeen year old was attractive, and as her appearance steadily morphed into that of a young women she had become the envy of other girls and an object of desire for the boys; even older men would turn their heads when she was dressed in such a manner; the teenager would feign disgust at such occurrences but inside she liked the attention, it made her feel like an adult, like she was important. 

Tonight was Saturday, that meant going out. Annabel socialised with a select group of females, the most important criteria in becoming a member was being deemed as attractive, the other slightly less important factors was pocessing a desire a drink to excess and to party like there was no tomorrow.

They met at Catherine's house, known affectionately by the rest of the group as 'Blond' due to her striking hair colour- she would never fail to inform people it was 100% natural. Blond's parents were away for the evening which meant the group, tonight consisting of four, would have free reign of the illustrious property.

Annabel lazed back on the oversized beige sofa which sat in an impressive living room complete with bronze statues and an impossibly cream carpet; but under no circumstances was the drinking to start here, even Blondie, who was arguably the wildest of the friends, could not deal with the consequences of that. So instead the group moved downstairs to the basement; a place her father would escape to when family life became a chore, and where he could smoke on fat cigars in peace while texting half his age lovers on his second phone. 

The basement was bare to the bones, with only a sofa, some chairs, an out of use pool table, and a fridge- pretty much perfect for a Saturday night binge. They always started the same way, ritual-like, with overenthusiastic hugs, laughing and continental esque kissing on both cheeks. Blond was especially fabulous in this department, kissing and greeting like an over exuberant Parisian on amphetamine. Her enthusiasm had made her an unelected leader of sorts, and it was she who led by example and set the rules. 

And so the pack greetings continued as Lucy arrived, cheap bottle of white in hand, the contents tasting closer to sweet vinegar than to wine. Lucy was tall, with legs that seemed to never end, and dark black hair, smooth as a calm night. Lucy or 'Legs', as she was sometimes known, despite the drinking , remained  the undisputed captain of the school netball team, and she bossed her team mates like she was a Greek Goddess, but here she was second fiddle to Blond, and despite undercover resentment she accepted it- she had no choice really. 

The last to join the group was Sophie, arguably the least attractive of the group but pretty nonetheless, with a slightly oval face that contained deep blue eyes and a cheeky smile that lit up the room. Sophie was short in statue but certainly not in confidence. She never hid her chubbiness  instead choosing to wear clothes that were far too revealing for a seventeen year old. On first assessment Sophie would be an unlikely candidate for this select group, but what she lacked for in looks, she made up for in behaviour; her countless close encounters of the sexual kind with her male peers provided endless entertainment and laughs for the other girls. 

With everyone now present and the greetings over the real fun could begin. The alcho pops started to flow, sweet tasting and easy to go down; Bacardi, Lambrini, Martini stolen from the cabinet, a little bit of whisky too, strong on the throat but messes you up good. House music, thumping and melodic, accompanied Sophie's comparisons of the boys she had 'been with' and the laughter and chatting of the pack became raucous. Within an hour they were intoxicated and the alcohol had stopped tasting strong, even Blondie's father's finest whisky was lacking any kind of kick. Now they danced; twirling and hugging, embracing as comrades, kissing and complimenting as they prepared for the night that lay before them, all four of them delirious with the belief that they were the prettiest and most popular girls in their small world.

The pack embarked on the town, visiting public houses as they made their way closer to the sea front where the central night life of the town lay. Things now became hazy for Annabel, the alcohol still feeling warm in her system, but at the same time affecting her basic functions. The girls stumbled from place to place, high heels making it difficult to maintain dignity, but still the boys leered. At one point Sophie vomited; a brief couple of retches, and then the laughter started again and it made no difference to her desire to kiss at least one boy in every place they visited.

By midnight they were in the club, their good looks leaving no place for an ID. Loud music drowned out any form of conversation, and bodies meshed and contorted together as the dance floor became ever fuller. Annabel, past the point of being able to drink anymore, danced seductively with her friends by her side, the group having chiselled out their own spot on the floor, a small domain where they could be admired and envied. The moments turned to minutes, and the minutes into hours, but even with the early hours getting ever later they still danced.

Annabel could not make out his face as he approached. She could tell he was attractive from the slick blue shirt that fitted tightly to his large upper torso, so when he placed his arm around her waist, and pulled her closer she made no objections. Their bodies touched as he ran his hands up and down her sides. He spoke into her ear and, maybe by accident, she was not sure, his lips made contact with her lobes. Annabel could not hear the words he said, but his touch, combined with the atmosphere around her made all her inhibitions disappear, and she placed her slim arms around his neck. Immediately he lunged forward, his lips making contact with hers,and his tongue jerking forward in an attempt to get lost in Annabel's mouth. The teenager pulled back, pushing his arms away, and she turned to escape; her only intention was attention, and he had pushed it too far. In vain the young man grabbed Annabel's wrist and the girl spun, clipping him across his face with a nailed hand. 

She was free now, and she stumbled, her belly in knots, down the sticky stairs that led out of the club. The fresh air of the street lowered her defences, and she vomited violently against the wall of the next building. 

During mid vomit she felt the reassuring touch and voice of Blondie. 'Get it all out baby,' she said as if sugar grew in her mouth. 

Another out pour and Annabel was back walking, the group together again. The pack was now on its last legs, the vigour previous to the club evaporated away by too much drink and dancing. 

But the night was not over yet.

 Blond was the first to start it; picking up an empty beer bottle and throwing it at the side of a house; the smash made the girls run instantaneous, their hyena laughs echoing into the otherwise silent night. And so it continued; the bus stop next- windows smashed, every bin thrown over and litter strewn. Sophie made it her priority to dislocate every wing mirror on every car that came in close proximity to her. It was after overturning another bin when they they noticed the man. Standing he was, his clothes ripped and torn, one hand inside his trouser. 

'Fucking perv,' screamed Blondie, 'I'll take your peeping eyes out!'

Sophie, taking a hint from Blondie's words, picked up a bottle that had been strewn on the floor and threw it with some might in the man's direction; whether she intended to hit him was unclear but she missed terribly and the bottle smashed quite some way from him. The man didn't so much as flinch, instead he remained like stone, staring. Annabel had no way of knowing, but the mans eyes had no interest in the others, only her. As she stared back at him, his hand remaining firmly in his trousers, she felt a rage build inside of her. Up until now she had been a non participant in the destruction of the town, but, suddenly, she felt like she was about to explode. Without really being conscience of what she was doing she leapt forward, removing both her heels quickly, and ran towards the man while filling the air with wild expletives. The first smack with her heel turned weapon floored the man, and he fell down onto the hard pavement. Annabel set upon him, lashing out at first with her shoe and then with her nails. She turned his face bloody, but he made no noise instead simply uttering a simple sentence of words- 'You are special Annabel, you are special'. The other girls, seeing that things were getting out of control even for their groups standards, rushed to pull Annabel away, forcibly dragging her kicking and screaming down the street. As the vibrations of Annabel's screams and the other girls calming words slowly diminished, the man remained horizontal on the ground, blood smeared across his face, his wispy white hair being teased softly by the cold breeze.