the walls of the house seemed to shake with each pulse of whatever boring pop song that was being bled through the speakers. ridley, red beer cup in hand, moves through the party with all the interest of a fly in a web.

some faces she recognises from her school, some she assumes are boyfriends, girlfriends and partners of whoever dragged them here. or just horny high schoolers. that’s always the most likely bet.

her face is illuminated by only the faint glow of a few lamps and a blaring tv screen, and with her slightly inebriated eyes it just looks like a mess of strobing colours. she should sit down. maybe puke.