Hayden

Chapter Eleven

The minutes do not pass quickly enough. I have been sitting on the chair in my living room staring at the clock for the past two hours just waiting for something exciting to happen. I had tried turning on the TV, but nothing was interesting enough to hold my attention. 

I had received a few text messages from Zephyr and Jade, but I ignored them both. I am not in the mood to talk to either of them. 

Besides, I am going to see Zephyr later tonight. 

The clock on my wall reads 6:53, and I grow more and more impatient. I want it to be 7:50 so that I can get out of here and forget about everything for a while. My entire being hopes and prays that I do not run into Jade, but more of me does not want to run into a stranger. 

Parties are the most popular place for assholes, and tonight is really not the night for me to bring out my hobby. I am never in the mood, but I know that I have to do what I have to do. If it means protection, I am the one that has to go the extra mile. 

Don't think like that, Hayden.

I draw in a deep sigh and breathe it out dramatically. I lean my head back on the chair and close my eyes for a split second, then snap them open at the sound of shattering glass. 

I sit up quickly and look at the window just in time to see a group of kids running down the alleyway between the two apartment buildings. 

"Bastards." I whisper under my breath, rolling my eyes. They had thrown rocks at random windows and broken them miserably. The residents stuck their heads out and yelled at the group, but they ket running and laughing. If they so much as threw a pebble at my window. . .

I shake my head and back away from the window. I place my hand on my forehead and rub it, then return it to my side. I look down at my clothes and think about changing them for the party. I have not done anything at all today, so changing would not really be necessary. 

I walk into my bedroom and look down at the floor, noticing the pile of dirty clothes lined up against the closet door. I stare at it for a few moments, then decide that I will get my laundry done sometime tomorrow. It is Saturday, and I am going to a party. It is not the day for chores. 

I have been feeling really lazy lately. 

When I walk back out into the living room, I glance at the clock once again, and am happy to see that it is nearing 7:15. I think about cleaning the kitchen to kill some time, but I feel no motivation whatsoever.

I pace around the room with my head tilted back. My breathing intensifies, and I try to tell myself to calm down, but I can't. The memories are returning, and I cannot stop them. I grasp my black hair in between my fingers and tug at the roots, hoping that the pain will take away the thoughts. 

The alarm I had set on my phone goes off, indicating that it is time for me to leave. I grab it and my coat, then head out the door, slamming it behind me. I pull the pack of cigarettes I had been hiding in the pocket, and the lighter from the back of my dark jeans. I light a single stick, and stare at the ashes as they fall aimlessly to the dirty concrete. 

My eyes squint against the evening sunset, and I notice the beauty of the sunset. The many sights work together to calm me, ans surprisingly do a good job at it.

I pass unworthy citizens on the streets, some begging for food, and some just waiting to be picked up by strangers. These people disgust me, but I refuse to make eye contact with any of them.

They don't need to be here either. 

I turn the corner and look up at a large, bright sign that reads, "Glider's Rave." I press my lips into a straight line and flick the half-burned cigarette to the ground, stomping out the small flame with my sneakers. I somewhat hoped it would burn a hole through to my foot, but it didn't. 

Loud music can be heard from outside the club. The building practically shakes, and I can already tell that I am going to be uncomfortable all night. I sigh and walk through the doors, glaring at the guards who's eye contact threatened to ask me for an I.D. They wave me through, and I breathe out heavily, fog filling the air. 

I walk into the noise pounding into my ears, and cringe as it gives me physical pain. I make my way to the back of the club, hoping to find someone I know. There are girls dancing on men, men grinding on women. Whores.

There's a DJ that is way in over his head. He is really into what he is doing which kind of makes me laugh. The room's aroma consists immensely of alcohol which I cannot really say is a bad thing, but is not necessarily a terrific thing, either. 

I continue pacing the huge room, looking around, and trying not to run and bump into strangers. It is hard to look past all of the annoying and attractive people, but then I remember how badly I do not want to be here. Not today, at least. 

When I finally make it to the back of the room, I spot a section with bright red couches and perfectly stained Ottoman. There are couples making out on the love seat, and I cringe at the sight. I decide to take a seat on the empty couch, and scold at anyone who tries to sit with me. Most of them were drunk couples, or ugly girls, anyway. 

I lean back in the cold cushions and throw my head back. I cross my arms over my torso and keep my legs stretched out in front of me. I contemplate on closing my eyes, but the music and voices are too incredibly loud, and it gives me anxiety.

I have never liked being present in large crowds. 

The buzzing of my phone pulls me from my thoughts, and I am left with weariness and annoyance. The screen shows a text message from Zephyr asking where I am. I roll my eyes and click the reply button.

'In the back. Red couches.'

I do not receive a reply back, but minutes upon minutes later, Zephyr shows up with an anorexic girl on his right arm and his brother. They are all obviously on the verge of tipsiness, and I sigh at the sight.

"Come on, man, why aren't you gettin' into it?" Zephyr asks with slurred speech. I chuckle at the way he almost fails to keep his balance, but when Taylor motions for me to come with him, I do not hesitate to move. Hopefully he is taking me out of the Godforsaken place.

Taylor leads me into the large crowd, and my heart rate picks up. People grab at my jacket and touch my arms which makes me extremely uncomfortable. I hold my breath as we shove through them; as the mixture of odors in the room is excruciating. I finally release the breath when we are out of the large mass of people, and Taylor walks me right up to the bar. 

"Get a drink, man. You need to loosen up." Taylor says, taking a seat on one of the small leather bar stools. I draw in a deep breath and remember the last time I was at a bar. I sat next to a strange man with uneven facial hair and ask him for one of his cigarettes. 

I shake my head free of the memory and take a seat next to Taylor. The bartender comes by the two of us, and looks at us with nothing short of pure resilience. 

"I'll have a shot of fireball." I say sternly. "Dab it with salt, too."