Stars Fall

The club was home to the wicked people. To the ones who raised their glass of unknown drinks, who laughed carelessly as they forgot unforgettable things. They were the ones who would continue to dance even if the world went burning down. Call it a night, light up a smirk, then drink, drink away.  

They were dragged under the sweet cruelness of everyone’s lost thoughts, but it would’ve been okay so long as the music still played and the night stayed awake.

Bodies clashed with others as they all kept to the beat, never noticing the trouble rolling through the smoke that drifted between each person. The ultraviolet fluorescent lights brought an unworldly glow to everyone’s features, distorting them into surreal artwork itself.

Mera brought her arms above her head, closing her eyes to feel the vibration from the heavy-blasted music thump through her veins. It felt glorious to take control of her life for once, to deny everything society has demanded for and break down its rules.

Tired from dancing, she stumbled half drunk into the bathroom, hoping that her blurry eyes had read the sign of the sex on the door. Leaning heavily on the walls, Mera aimed herself to the sink while wobbling on five-inch heels. Anyone who had a bit of common sense would’ve laughed themselves hoarse, watching her try to walk like a newborn. But then again, no one here had any bit of judgement that could’ve been spared so she was fine.

Mera tried washing her hands with the coldest setting, hoping the freezing water could anchor herself to the here and now.

She looked up in the mirror and cringed horribly. She looked like crap. The harsh mirror revealed all the things she hated about herself, from the mascara stains that looked as if she had been crying (it was from the sweat), to the birds nest hair of colored blue and purple hair. Everything was chaotic.

Trying to fix herself so she looked half decent, Mera put on a nervous smile and reached for her purse on the side table by the sink. Her hand retracted, hesitating.

Mera looked to the marble countertops, squinting her green eyes as if a brown leather purse would simply show up. It was actually quite funny because she was never this drunk to experience hallucinations. There was nothing on the countertops. And she was too broke to buy a purse like that anyways.

A tear flowed down her cheek. Mera turned to face the mirror and found blotches of red that had replaced her mascara stains. What the hell is going on?

A few blinks and two Advil's later, her uneven pale skin came into form. No sign of red stains anywhere. Mera released a nervous chuckle, wondering if this was what it felt like to be on drugs.
That was until something sharp started stabbing into her skin.

She screamed in pain, holding her right forearm to her chest as something started ripping into her flesh. There was so much blood, Mera’s consciousness was still aware of every single sense that flashed as warning signs in her mind. What was causing this to happen? She couldn’t see the intruder and she couldn’t see the weapon carving her arm.

You weren’t supposed to feel pain when you were high and drunk, right?

But it didn’t matter because no matter how loud she screamed, no one would come to save her. Because this was the club of the wicked and not even a poor girl being murdered would stop them from dancing.

She looked at her arm with teary eyes and shallow breaths, persuading herself that she drank something laced with unfamiliar drugs or that it was the alcohol overdose making her hallucinate.

Mera dropped to her knees, clutching her arm like it was a bird without its wings and gasped softly. What felt like misguided aims carving her flesh, lead to actual precise words scratched into her skin.
Upon seeing the two words, a small part of her clicked in understanding even though it made no sense.

Two words that made her realize it wasn’t the stuff in her body making her see things.
Wake Up.

That was the last thing she saw before Mera had fainted in the men’s bathroom.