Spark

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1

𝓕𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓴𝓲𝓮

Today I won't cry.

My stomach churns, heat spreading through my body. I'd pin it all down to the alcohol, but I only had a shot of vodka earlier. Whatever this is, it's tearing through me from the inside out, leaving my hands shaking. I can barely manage to lift them in front of my face before they fall uselessly back to my sides.

I'm sick of this happening.

Every day now, the feeling comes. Overwhelming doom, like the whole room is seconds away from noticing me. Every glance feels heavier than it should, like I'm on display without ever agreeing to be.

Where's Imogen?

I could really do with the distraction.

In the center of her living room, masses of student bodies sway together, moving with the thumping bass. I wouldn't exactly call this music, though it's doing a decent job of drowning out my thoughts, stopping my brain from spiraling quite so quickly.

I promised her I'd at least try to mingle.

I sort of lied.

Now in our second year of college, she's still the only person I've had a proper conversation with. Everyone else? I know their names, and that's about it. Apparently that's enough to know someone nowadays.

"Fuck's sake," I mutter under my breath.

At least I think I do. The music gets louder every second.

My palms are slick with sweat. I wipe them against my jeans, hoping no one notices.

When Imogen told me about this party yesterday, I never imagined it'd be this big. I expected maybe half our year group at most. Instead, there are people from the year below us, and now that I'm actually looking around, there are faces I don't recognise at all.

Jesus Christ.

Please don't tell me strangers are wandering in.

Where is Imogen, seriously? She said she was only getting a drink, and that was fifteen minutes ago.

I must look like a right idiot, standing by the mantelpiece with no one around me. Like I'm carrying some infectious plague that everyone can somehow sense.

I could vomit.

I need to get out of here.

I love her, but fuck this.

My lungs are begging for air, and I'm desperate for a bit of quiet.

I weave around bodies clogging up the hallway, squeezing between feet and discarded bottles. A girl nearly stumbles straight into me, lost in a drunken haze, and my heart somersaults.

Leaving is definitely the right call.

Heaven's gates practically open as my hand wraps around the front door handle. I don't waste a second, throwing it open and stumbling outside.

Cool evening air slaps against my skin, and I greedily drag in a lungful of it.

Immediately, my pulse begins to slow. My lungs finally let go of the breath they've been clinging to, and my head starts to clear.

For the first time all evening, I feel like myself again.

I lift my hands in front of me.

They're still trembling.

Just... less.

A small smile tugs at my lips.

I never thought I'd be so grateful for the cold.