“This is great!” She said, reacting in exactly the opposite way to what I’d expected. Then, after giving me a brief peck on the cheek, she ventured into the crowd of anonyms. I went to follow her, finding it weird that she’d depart from my side so immediately. My pursuit was promptly ceased though when Hood, obviously plastered, grabbed me firmly by the shoulder as a form of welcoming.

“Owen! Oh man, you’ve gotta come with me!” He shouted, not because of the music; it was just what he did. Casting a hurried glance to the crowd as Hood dragged me into the kitchen, I couldn’t see Katya anywhere.

I knew most of the revelers in the kitchen and they all appeared joyous to see me. Most of them were people from school that I hadn’t seen in ages, but others were just randoms I’d seen around various places. Hood guided me towards the kitchen counter where several bottles of spirits lined up like soldiers preparing for battle. He insisted that I have at least one shot of a mystery substance before I was allowed to go on with my night. I accepted carelessly, already taken by the rowdy atmosphere of the gathering. I wondered briefly where Katya was, though I was instantly comforted by the picture in my head of how excited she’d been upon entry.

“All right, close your eyes and open your mouth.” Hood ordered. I obliged and within moments felt a liquid fly into my throat like a bat to a cave. It tasted like nothing, though when I opened my eyes I felt slightly less sober. “Want another?” He asked, apparently finding pleasure in getting me maggotted.

“Sure.” I replied, and retreated to darkness again. With my eyesight momentarily muffled, thoughts of my Dad began seeping loosely into my mind. I realized the distinct hypocrisy in hating his drinking habits whilst going out on binges myself. The notion was short-lived, however, the second round of nothing-juice aiding my increasingly dubious state.

I reentered the lounge to a strange image. Katya, among others, was dancing to the hip-pop. I was dumbfounded for a moment, completely unaware that she enjoyed that kind of music. In the past I’d mentally mocked anyone who considered computerized tunes to be “good music”, but now, watching her move with it, the attraction became clarified. As I watched her she became the only person in the room; a single entity living in a soundtrack. She swayed rhythmically, drawing me into a trance I’d never want to break. Her deathly dark hair swung wildly, transfixing my gaze and freezing me where I stood.

What seemed like an eternity but could have been a millisecond went by like this before my body finally willed itself toward her. I didn’t know what I was going to do, (I couldn’t dance to save myself) but I knew that I had to be near. Then, just as I’d made my first step, I was interrupted again; this time by Damo.

His bleached blond hair lay perfectly unkempt. The kind of mess it takes an hour in front of the mirror to create. He didn’t appear as drunk as everyone else, but he was wearing a typically charming grin along with clothes that would get him into the most exclusive of nightclubs. Beer in hand, he greeted me and gestured to a couch for us to sit. Tearing the invisible tie that had connected Katya and I just seconds ago, I obliged.

“Fuckin’ mad party, ay?” He stated, more than asked. I laughed in acknowledgment before casting a quick eye toward Katya. “Everyone’s here. There’s like, two chicks I’ve fucked in this room alone!” He boasted with pride before dipping his drink in my direction and then taking a swig. Damo was the epitome of a ladies man. The type of person that if he wasn’t a friend, he’d be an enemy by default. I normally hated guys that used girls for sex, but it was a facet of Damo’s personality that I’d become accustomed to. He was handsome, popular and majorly flirtatious; a cocktail mix that no female could refuse, despite knowing they were nothing more to him than a cock-hold.

“Found any prospects tonight?” I asked, smoothly slipping into character and out of myself.

“Well,” he grinned, “that one dancing over there is fuckin’ awesome.” He subtly pointed in Katya’s direction and I instantly felt sick. My face must have contorted in some odd way, because he quickly followed up his words with an incredulous “What?”

“Nothing,” I shot back before glancing at Katya again. “It’s just…” I wanted to stop short of claiming ownership over her, though I also wanted to keep Damo away, “I sorta came here with her.”

Damo’s eyes widened with surprise. They caught another glimpse of her before returning to me.

“Fuck me!” He exclaimed, “Is that the chick you rooted last night?”

Again I laughed, not answering for a time. I enjoyed the miscomprehension and felt empowered by it. Then, much to the surprise of myself, I corrected him.

“I didn’t root her.”

Damo sighed, clearly disappointed.

“Then what? Are you going out with her or something?” It was an interesting question. I wondered where the line lay between ‘going out’ and ‘being friends’, though, in the end I decided it wasn’t a good idea to commit Katya to an uncertainty. If she got word that I’d told people we were going out, perhaps she’d be scared off; overwhelmed by the magnitude of such a thing.

“Nah, we’re not going out.” I replied despondently, watching as my case against Damo picking her up fizzled feebly. He had a straight face, and eyed her again.

“But you don’t want me to have a crack?” He again stated more than asked, articulating my feelings simply. I felt guilty, but responded affirmatively.

“Yeah. I kinda dig her.” Unbeknownst to me, I’d slipped back out of character and into myself, speaking candidly with Damo. He groaned frustrated and then ran his hand roughly against my hair, a condescending grin forming.

“Fine, I’ll leave your babe alone.” His tone was playful and in that moment I was exceedingly glad to have a friend like him. “Anyway,” he said, “Have you visited your Dad lately?”

The moment paused. My mind suddenly spun crazily and I started to feel like a ghost inside myself. I felt as if I was about to leave my body when a round of sickness pulsed upward within me.

“Shit!” I gurgled, and leapt off the couch, running as quickly as I could toward the bathroom. Whether anyone but Damo noticed my abrupt movements, I didn’t know; all I knew was that I was going to be ill.

I slammed the bathroom door behind me as I entered and in a flash of time I had my head resting on the toilet bowl, the alcohol and any other substance that I’d devoured evacuating my body at maximum speed. Once it had started, I didn’t even feel very sick. Still, the vomit kept coming in a continuous flow, holding me to my pathetic position. I hoped desperately that Damo wouldn’t tell anyone I was spewing. More importantly, I willed with all my mental ability that Katya not find out. There’s nothing more unattractive than watching someone you like be sick.

I was stuck in the bathroom for ages, passing in and out of consciousness, face staring into a disgusting pool. Finally, when the infirmity departed, I was able to get to my feet and flush the mess out of sight, as if it never happened. Normalcy returning, I wondered what the hell had just occurred. I wasn’t even that drunk, I thought, before warily exiting the room, hoping my long stay in the room had gone unnoticed. Surprisingly, the kitchen was empty. A few bottles left sparingly, where their owners previously stood. The music from the lounge room was much lower than I remembered, and I started to question how long I’d spent in that bathroom. It appeared as if the party had ended while I was away. My mind immediately turned to Katya. Is she still here? I panicked for a moment, imagining that she’d left without me, thinking I’d left without her. Within seconds, my mind had scripted days of her seething and refusing to accept my explanations. The mental scenario playing out invoked the same emotions in me that it would have if it was real. I’d successfully depressed myself by the time I entered the lounge room.

The sight I came to find was enough to make me suicidal.

There, on the couch I’d been chatting on earlier, sat Damo and Katya, embracing. I instinctively reared back out of the room and into the kitchen. Shocked, stopped and feeling like a torture victim, I stood taciturn. It hurt too much for me to be angry. I could only feel agony. I wanted to fucking die.

“Hang on,” I heard Damo’s voice from the lounge, “I think I hear Owen.” A short pause followed, then “I’ll go check.”

I was frozen with no idea what to do. I knew I didn’t want to confront them and I couldn’t bear to pretend that I hadn’t seen. The only option I had was to disappear. At the opposite side of the kitchen was a door that led to Hood’s backyard (a tiny concrete square). Without regard for the noise I was making, I ran. I didn’t care if they knew I’d fled, as long as I didn’t have to face them.

Before anything made sense I was outside and climbing over Hood’s fence. I fell harshly to the ground on the other side; the alleyway. Then, as fast as I could, I bolted, my mind moving faster than my legs would take me. Tears began to well in my eyes as the incident consumed me. I just kept running; even when I heard Damo’s voice calling after me.

“Owen! Owen, what the fuck are you doing?”

His loud calls were echoed by Katya’s, torn and aching.

“Stop! Please! I’m sorry!”

The sounds didn’t formulate into words until I was well away; too far to be caught. Even then, they didn’t change a thing.