Sunday Night And The Chemical Poetry

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
One body, one girl, one night of partying.

Submitted: August 27, 2010

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Submitted: August 27, 2010

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And then, he drowned. It was an interesting thing to watch, this body disappearing in the dirty and cold river, almost instantaneously. She knew that she should feel disgusted by this picture and run, but she couldn't move, fascinated by the bubbles appearing where Corey's corpse once stood. As she was contemplating the water, she felt Damien leaning over to her ear, whispering : “It was a very nice night.” He left, and Becca stood alone on the bridge for a while.

*

She pressed the accelerator, and the wheels of her black BMW entered the car park. From the distance, she saw Damien, Sheryl, and Tyler staring at her, standing in a circle. She got out of her car and, once she stood in front of Damien, pushed him away when he bent over to kiss her. She didn't have time for this. She yelled at him right away, while the other two remained silent.
“Why would you take us there? Why would you ask me to pick Corey?”
“I didn't ask you to pick Corey. I asked you to pick someone.” He paused. “Do you really think I could have planned all of this?”.
“I don't know.” Everything seemed unreal and confused. “Why did we go in the forest?”
“Fun. Drink. Party. Whatever.”
Whatever.

*

It was late. They had been in this club for about five hours now, dancing in the middle of black and dark violet couches and chairs, screaming at the Hollywoodish DJ upstairs, drinking as much as they could, and, occasionally, chilling out at their private table, staring at the mouldings of this very Renaissance-inspired ceiling. The club was almost empty. It was, after all, Sunday night, and it was 4:00 a.m.
The sound of electro music mixed with girls' screams and alcohol was driving Becca dizzy. She sat down, and Damien put his arm around her shoulders. He dropped a kiss on her forehead.
“Are you okay?”
He was drunk - his tender tone gave him away. He was never tender otherwise. She got out of his embrace, and replied.
“I'm bored.”
“Dance.”
“I don't want to.”
She realised that she sounded like a capricious 8-year-old, and plunged her eyes into his to distract him from this fact. He sighed.
“All right, let's play a game, then.” He leaned closer to her, and whispered. “Pick one guy.”
“What?”
“Just pick one. I promise you will like this.”
She stood up.
“I don't want to play a stupid game, I just want to go.”
He looked up to her, visibly upset, and insisted.
“Pick one.”
He wasn't tender anymore.
She looked around at the people she had been growing up with, and realised they were almost all wasted. George was jumping on the dancefloor, Sara was sleeping on a violet chair, Tyler and Sheryl were in the middle of foreplay, Meghan and Jenny were putting lip gloss on each other.
She turned over to Damien again, decided : “Corey”.
He was collapsed on a chair next to her, in some sort of drunken coma. Whatever Damien wanted her to do, it would obviously be impossible with Corey.
“Fine. Let's go,” he finally said, satisfied. He got up and grabbed her hand. He stopped in front of Tyler and Sheryl on their way out, whispered something to Tyler, and eventually took her outside.

As soon as the fresh air hit her face, Damien stopped in front of the massive metallic door of the club, letting go of her hand.
“I wanna grab a smoke.”
She rolled her eyes and stood next to him, staring at the car park to pass the time. It was 4:22 and the night was very dark. Only seven cars were left.
Suddenly, the noise of someone pushing the heavy door broke the ambient silence. Sheryl and Tyler were going out. And Tyler was carrying Corey.
“All right, the gang's all here, let's go!” he said.
He walked towards the car park, and Damien threw his cigarette on the ground and followed him. Sheryl smiled at Becca, and lifted her arms in the air before running after them. This girl had some serious mental issues. Becca froze a second to watch them going away. What were they doing?
When she arrived closer to them, Tyler and Damien were in the middle of putting Corey on the back-seat of her car.
“What the hell is going on?” she asked.
None of the guys bothered to answer, but Sheryl walked to her, smiling.
“Don't worry, it won't take long. You'll be home way before bed time, sweetie.”
“What are you doing?” she repeated, pointing at the guys.
Tyler closed a door, and turned to her to answer. “We're taking him home. The guy obviously needs a lift back.”
He laughed, and Damien smiled, entering the car by the passenger front door without even a look at Becca, while Tyler took the driver's seat. The girls sat at the back - drunken Corey in the middle of them.
Isolated at the left, Becca stared at Tyler through the rear-view mirror. She wanted to ask where they were going, but she knew it was pointless. She had been confronted by this kind of situation enough to know that when Tyler and Damien had some twisted idea in mind, she was out of the picture, just like the others. They were in a different place.
Looking around at the road for a second, she suddenly realised she had no idea where they were.
“Shouldn't you have turned left?” she asked.
Damien laughed. “Haven't we told you? We're doing a minor detour.”

Twenty minutes later, the car passed by the river and entered a forest. She didn't even bother to protest. They stopped in front of a small, half-destroyed house in the trees. It was past five, but it was still very dark.
Tyler got out, grabbed something in the trunk, and went inside. Damien opened the door to Sheryl, and managed to take Corey out. As Becca left the car, Sheryl dropped a kiss on her cheek.
“Don't worry, this is gonna be fun!” she whispered.
She entered the place, Damien carrying Corey right behind her.
When Becca walked in herself, her mind immediately focused on the emptiness of the house. Four bare walls, a concrete ground floor, and a long wooden bench at the left. Two packs of beer were on top of it.
Damien dropped Corey off at another corner of the room and grabbed one. Corey was still asleep, and Becca suspected he hadn't only had whiskey tonight.
Sheryl was sitting on the bench, a beer in the hand. Damien handed her drink to Becca, and gently kissed her forearm as she stretched her arm to catch it.
Tyler, standing in front of Corey, started to laugh.
“Do you want a beer, dude?”
He got down on his knees to face him, and pushed Corey's shoulder with his left hand. “Come on dude, time to wake up.”
Corey wasn't moving, so Tyler shook up a little bit stronger. Damien crossed the room towards them, and started to push one of Corey's foot with his own.
“Just leave him alone, he's obviously way too drunk,” protested Becca.
Damien kicked Corey's foot one last time and walked back to the bench to take another beer, muttering. “This guy's such a pussy.”
When he turned around, Tyler was slapping Corey. He laughed, and came back to them, putting his beer on the ground next to Corey. He started to slap him too.
“Come on, guys...” Becca protested again.
But Damien interrupted her before she could finish, still laughing. “Don't worry babe, I'm a freakin' med. student. I know what I'm doing.”
She grabbed another beer from the pack and stared at this weird scenery, while Sheryl stood up and headed towards them with a smile.
“Guys, all you need is a feminine touch,” she said.
She then asked them to “watch and learn”, as she gave a violent kick to Corey's chest.
Becca jumped out of surprise and, a little shaken up, swallowed the rest of her drink. What could she do about this anyway? Her head was starting to feel dizzy again. She wanted to go out in the fresh air, but didn't want to find herself alone in the woods.
Tyler reached for something in his pocket, satisfied.
“Coke, anyone?” Damien and Sheryl smiled at him, and he continued. “See, our friend Corey here is dying of an alcohol overdose. May him rest in peace, may us have many many sniffs in his honour. Right, Corey?” He performed a military salute in the direction of the inanimate body.
Damien took the bag out of his hand. “Aren't you a freaking poet. Now shut up and give us some.”
He took care of the setting up, and Becca walked to Corey while the others were focused on Damien's moves. She wanted to see if there were some marks on him. If he was okay. She started to unbutton Corey's shirt. She could hear the sound of the others sniffing. She discovered that Corey had a red spot on his chest.
Damien started to laugh from right behind her.
“Corey, buddy... Have you been waxing? Aren't you a little pussy?” He turned to the others to see their reaction for a second, as Becca walked back to the bench to get herself a line too. They were all laughing. Damien spilled his beer on Corey's chest.
“To keep your skin moisturised, dude.”
Becca laughed.
Sheryl, another beer in the hand, arrived in front of them. She downed her drink in one go, and got down on her knees to face Corey. Becca and Damien exchanged a glance, while Sheryl started to laugh – a weird metallic laugh that surprised them all, and bent over Corey to lick the beer on his chest.
Tyler was soon standing behind her. He pulled her hair, kissed her in the neck a few times, and stared at Corey.
“You love that, right, Corey?”
He gave him a gentle slap on the cheek, and continued.
“I bet he's pretending to be asleep to keep her going, now.”
And Sheryl started to bite. Tyler started to laugh. Corey started to fall on his left. Surprised, she stopped. Damien's beer rolled under Corey's heavy body. Everybody froze, until Becca decided to reach to him. She shook his shoulder, holding her breath. Damien grabbed her arm and strongly pushed her away. He looked mad, and slapped Corey. Becca stared at the print of Damien's fingers on her skin while Sheryl reached her hair, playing with it with her fingers, smiling. Weirded out, Becca stood up and took a few steps away from them. When she turned around, Damien was burning Corey's skin with his cigarette.
“The guy just wasted my beer, for God's sake,” he explained.
He had bloodshot eyes but looked perfectly sane. Becca shuddered. Everything was out of control. She walked back to the bench, where some of the coke was left. She had to take a bit more for all of this to start making sense. She had to get in the right mood. She had to get rid of this headache.
She sniffed the drug and sat down on the ground, resting her head against the cold concrete.
She got her mobile out of her pocket. It was 4:31. But before she knew it, Damien snatched the tiny phone and throw it against the wall.
“Nobody is fucking calling anyone. And nobody is fucking going anywhere, too.”
He turned again to Becca in rage, but her eyes were closed. It was all very far away from her, now.

When she opened her eyes again, things weren't clear at all. The room seemed to be spinning around. Her hand was dancing in the air. She needed a beer.
She was hearing the metallic sound of chains, but that seemed quite improbable.
She sat up towards the bench and grabbed a beer, unaware that behind her, Sheryl was indeed using chains - hitting Corey. They had found those in the woods, behind the house.
As Damien and Tyler were watching, seated close to Corey and her and smoking, Sheryl took a few steps back to gather her strength, and started humming.
“Three blind mice... Three blind mice... See how they run... See how they...” She smiled at unconscious Corey and smashed the chains on his chest with all her might. “Run.”
Satisfied, she laughed and dropped the chains off at her feet. The violent noise took Becca out of her torpor, and the beer she had been staring at for the past minute fell on the ground. Her hand was shaking as she tried to reach down for it. She took a piece of glass in it, and her palm turned red. She stared at the blood flowing from her skin. She hated bleeding very very much. She looked up to see Sheryl and Tyler kissing, while Damien was still smoking. Corey was all alone. And her hand was still bleeding.
She realised that she had to let go of the broken piece of glass to get better, but couldn't get herself to do it. She eventually managed to stand up, pressuring the wall with her bruised hand. Everything was blurry around her and she felt nauseous. She stayed there for a moment, resting her heavy head against the concrete. She scanned the room with her eyes, and it all came back to her. The first slap, the first cigarette, her phone. She noticed the chains on the ground, in the middle of the room. Damien, Tyler and Sheryl were obviously tripping. They were gone. She had to do something. She had to move.
She tried to make her way to Corey, one step after the other. The infernal trio didn't even paid attention to her. When she arrived in front of him, she leaned down and a shiver ran up her spine. She was feeling sick. She lay down on her side, in foetal position. Her hand was hurting. She gently raised it, letting the little piece of glass falling on the ground, and stared at her bloody palm, confused. After a few minutes, she was feeling better and got up on her knees. Corey wasn't in a very good shape. She tried to focus on what to do next but the vertical position was aggravating her headache again. She put her hand on Corey's chest, leaving her blood all over him, as her head was spinning round and round.
“Intradermal transfusion! Nice one, babe,” Damien shouted out, laughing.
She slowly turned to him, smiled, and turned back to Corey. All this moving turned her stomach upside down and it was painful. But she suddenly realised that Corey's eyes were opened. He was staring at her. The heat of the room and the shock overwhelmed her. She vomited on herself, almost fainting. It was all too much. She looked up, and Corey's eyes were closed. Pearls of sweat were running on her forehead. She started crying. It was too painful. She wanted to pass out.
Damien came behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. She felt the sudden urge to do something. She wanted it to stop, right now. She felt her arm rising up, gathering strength, and crashing on Corey's chest. Damien took a step backwards. She had just stabbed Corey. She hadn't even felt her hand grabbing the broken piece of glass on the ground. She contemplated for a second the blood coming out of Corey's chest, mixing with her own in its fall across his body. And she stabbed him again. And again. The contact between the glass and the flesh was soft and relaxing. It was getting her mind out of her own bleeding.
Damien stopped her arm on its way back to Corey's thorax as Sheryl started screaming. She paused the mechanical repetition of her stabbing move, thinking for a second about what was going on. “There's something wrong,” she whispered to herself. She pressed her hand on the cold ground to maintain balance, and realised she was leaving blood all over the floor. Damien's shoes were in front of her. She was afraid to look up, but he raised her head with his hand and she took a glance at his face. He wasn't upset. He caressed her cheek and gently kissed her forehead. He was tender again.

*

Back on the car park, Becca looked at Damien. The deep blue of his eyes was staring at her.
“So...” She hesitated. “What are we gonna do, now?”


© Copyright 2017 M D. All rights reserved.

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