posts tagged #;;open

“I can’t get on that stage.” Zoey shook her head. Her hand was wrapped around the neck of a guitar, and with wide, bright eyes, the look on her face could only be described as panic. She looked back up at her company. “No. No way. I mean, thanks and all that, but nuh-uh.”

“You know what’s weird about being twenty two? Nothing. Because it’s an two digits of the same number and it’s even.”

“Things I have done this week: not slept, had an episode in front of a random stranger, chased Gen’s dog around her house because it stole my good shoes. Missed my boyfriend. Things that I haven’t done this week: had a normalish day, read bought any books for this school year, gone clubbing, seen my boyfriend.”

“What about you?”

Even on a lock down, she couldn’t obey the rules. Sneaking out of Genevieve’s mansion with her bag and a pack of cigarettes, Zoey found herself back on campus. She had a scarf wrapped around her neck to cover the damage that had been done, even though it was almost hot enough to cook an egg on the bonnet of a car. She sat on the steps of the Beta Chi house, holding onto the pack — Treasurer, forty eight dollars per pack — with a blank expression on her face and her lips pressed together in a thoughtful pout.

More hallway sitting while she waited for a couple of friends. A few were still being seen to because they hadn’t been considered too much of a priority for the ER. Others had rooms of their own and some were at the clinic. After a couple of hours where the doctors waited for Zoey’s burns to heal over, she had been discharged and safely escorted back to campus. They’d passed the bar where everyone had been on the way, its neon lights flashed back at her as the car continued on its way and eventually they disappeared out of her vision.

About forty minutes later, Zoey was now sitting in one of the campus common rooms with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a slightly flashed expression on her face as she stared into the unlit fire. The TV was on in the background, but only served as white noise as she wasn’t paying any attention to what was playing on its screen. She could remember singing at the bar, being taken to hospital and ending up in shock for twenty minutes, and the doctors treating her injuries while someone held her. She couldn’t remember who.

The she wolf pulled her knees up to her chest, something that she had found herself doing rather a lot as of late. Her phone was turned off and set aside on the table, along with the TV remote and a bottle of orange juice that a professor has kindly bought for her. She felt like a child again, all wide-eyed and vulnerable. As the floorboards creaked loudly behind her, Zoey tensed, swallowing back a mouthful of saliva as her heart rate quickened in her chest. 

Her bones ached and her teeth felt out of place like they didn’t quite fit in her mouth right. She had broken a piece of furniture in the Amelia Hart common room. Their ornate coffee table — made of expensive wood that had clawed feet and was probably irreplaceable — was smashed to pieces with shards scattered across the floor and on the couch. But what was she staring at? Sitting on the table in that little coffee house, where just days ago she had gotten into a fight with Genevieve Knightly, Zoey was staring at her phone that just wouldn’t stop buzzing.

[ 1:24 PM ] You’re that girl from Sage’s Gaze, aren’t ya?
[ 1:25 PM ] Sweet nudes, by the way. Bad quality. Hope they don’t mean too much to you.

She looked over her screen again before shutting it down and pushing the device away. “God, just fuck off!”

“I’ve been looking into the whole ring thing.” Zoey said, striding into the library and placing a stack of research papers and notes onto the desk. She hardly ever did this sort of thing unless it had honest to God piqued her interest and let’s just say that this idea wasn’t likely to be leaving her mind anytime soon. “You usually have to pay, like, eight hundred something dollars for them, and not American money either. Canadian money. What kind of bullshit…” She trailed off, sliding the chair out beneath her and taking a seat, flicking through the pages before she brought out a printed map. “Anyway… There are some witches on the edge of town who are willing to take less money, and you can go through less Voodoo yoo-ha — I need you to take me.”

“Well it winds from Chicago to L.A. More than 2000 miles all the way. Get your kicks on Route 66.” Zoey sang as she made her way down to the lobby. John Mayer had been stuck in her head since their bus had broken down, and while she had taken great pleasure in pissing everyone off during the rest of the journey, it was now pissing her off. How was that for karma? “Well goes from St. Louie down to Missouri. Oklahoma city looks oh so pretty. You’ll see Amarillo and Gallup, New Mexico.”

“You! Dance with me.”

She didn’t know what she had taken.

Hidden somewhere in the pocket of her jacket, she’d found a tab. All swirls and pretty colours. Zoey hadn’t stopped to think before putting it into her mouth and swallowing it back with some leftover whisky from her morning with Genevieve. It was habit, she supposed. Acting without actually thinking beforehand. Alas, it was a terrible habit for an addict to have. It meant that should she ever run out of the good stuff, she would move on to whatever else she could find — safe or dangerous. She’d lose herself to her toxic consumption, just like she had right now.

And out of the corner of her eye, she saw him.

Tall and familiar, his expression was wild. Crazed. Zoey only knew one person who could look like that without having questions asked.

“Liam…” She breathed, breaking through the writhing, sweating dancers around her. Bodies moved with and against each other. Hands everywhere. Minds lost in their own indescribable worlds. The wolf girl called out louder over the buzz of the music, shoving people out of the way as she followed him out of the dance club and into the streets. He was here in colour and all. It was a sight to behold.

It terrified her.

“Liam!” The man looked back over his shoulder and smirked, walking right through a couple that had been approaching her. Right through and up towards the bridge that was up ahead only twenty yards away. She had to catch up to him.

“You can’t just cancel my gig!” Zoey exclaimed into the phone in her hand. Worst day ever. She’d woken up that morning, and couldn’t find a towel to dry off her hair. Then she almost broke her prized Fender when one of her lights came crashing down — those actually did break. And now her gig was being cancelled.

Ever since Sage’s Gaze had ‘split up’ and Liam had mysteriously disappeared off the maps, it had been harder and harder for her to find a bar that would let her play. It wasn’t the same without Mister Charisma who worked the crowd and drew in new fans. People came in to watch him. Their audience had always been full of girls, panting, screaming, obsessive girls. Zoey had been the boob action on the side for everyone else to ogle at with her crop tops, denim shorts and fish leg stockings. No one pays attention to the second guitarist. “No. No, no. Jacob, please. I’m begging you. Just this once, let your stubborn mind go the other way. J-Jacob? Jacob! What’re you… No, no, no. Jake!”