Quiet people are the most dangerous people there are. They’re like special agents, equipped with the training to ignore their emotions. So polite, they seem to be the least intimidating people, but it’s that silence that makes them all the more terrifying. A loud opponent has obvious strengths and weaknesses, but a clever opponent is cunning and keeps such information about themselves to themselves. They’re unpredictable in the dull way, your only understanding of them proving very limited when compared to what they can observe of your obvious nature.

How do you defeat an enemy you know nothing about?

This was why apologizing to Sebastian was too hard for me to do; I constantly thought about it. He would most likely keep his temper and accept my apology, but he’d be cold about it and wouldn’t treat me the same for a while, putting us back in the same spot where we started: an awkward acquaintanceship. A simple apology wouldn’t be enough to sort things with him, and I wouldn’t be given any more chances to solve our problems after I mess up the first time, so I had to make sure I had the perfect opportunity to make amends. I had one shot, and while I may seem like I gave this too much thought to be sincere, I wanted all of Sebastian's friendship back, not just a portion of him. I had a feeling that fate would work itself out for me: for a friendship as important as ours, a blunt of weed shouldn't be the end of it.

And fate must have had its eye on me, because of the events to brighten my gloomy, Monday morning.

The night before my biology lab was due, I found out my printer was out of ink -- completely wiped out. I asked around, but not many people I had at hand had working printers (or the virtuous trait in them to do a favour for me). In the mornings, however, the student services office allowed us to print out assignments before school started; it only had six computers, so you had to be punctual to get a spot. I didn't have to walk with friends to school, so I left the house early and got there as fast as I could. Somehow, at quarter to eight in the morning, there were already people there. Shortly after I grabbed a free computer, all the others were taken so students could completely type out assignments. Right when I finished opening the file, I turned to go to the printer and saw Meredith standing in a line of people waiting, with only a few minutes before the bell was to ring.

"Hey, Mere, you can use my computer -- you don't have to log out," I saw the temptation on her face at my offer, before she came over and gave me an awkward smile.

I waited for her to finish and walked up the stairs with her, seemingly by coincidence. "I'm really sorry I didn't tell you. And I miss you so much."

She frowned at me and was silent for a little while. "It hurt, not being told, you know," she started and I nodded my head. "But I got over it -- as long as you don't overdose or something." She gave a second thought before scowling at me angrily. "Actually, you better not do that again! If I find out you're addicted to weed, or some new drug craze, I will never speak to you again." We hugged and continued our second floor routines like we usually did; in no time she was talking about a cute guy she saw, or her wonderful mother's crazy antics. I missed having Meredith in my life.

I was glad, though, that Connor didn't show up to spoil our reconnecting like an inkblot in water.

Just like when an issue between my parents and me blows over, I wouldn't bring it up again, and avoid anyone else bringing it up -- I wouldn't want to trigger a relapse of angry, hostile emotions. If Con and his friends showed up, she'd be in a worse mood; it was a Godsend that the bell rang after we reached her locker and we were sent to our classes like prisoners to their cells.

I put parties off for a while, to catch up with Meredith -- I finally got someone to walk home with, talk to at lunch, and pick up on the way to school. Mere must've told Sebastian she and I were friends, which meant he probably walked to school alone now. I guess that was okay, since he was good at being alone, anyways. So when Connor called me up about a party at an old warehouse, I told him I couldn't; I had other plans. And I did, because redeeming one of my best friends again was better than getting high and forgetting all of my problems for eight hours -- I'd rather have my issues dealt with and my loose ends tied off.

As part of my compensation, I told Meredith everything that had happened: the warehouse party, the ecstasy, the making out, Abigail, and Damian. When I confessed about the night I was smashed out of my mind, she was solemn. Smokes were mostly legal -- it was common to hear about smokers here and there. Alcohol was even more acceptable, some people started drinking when they were in the eighth grade -- but pills. Pills were the unspeakably stereotypical drugs. Medication, literally. Except they weren't prescribed, were approximately twenty bucks a single tablet and had effects that would lead to death, if precautions weren't taken. She didn't say a think about it, though, but her eyes told me she was worried. It was the past, though, so she didn't need to remind me how much she disapproved again.

"Damian seems like a really good guy, though," she said. "He doesn't drink, smoke, or pop pills; he's nice, cares about you, and is good looking..."

"I wouldn't fall in love with Damian!" I scoffed, but the thought lingered in my mind. Yeah, everything she said was true, but I couldn't be with a quiet guy -- too intimidating. "He's just a good friend, that's all."

She shook her head with a sincere frown. "I don't like Connor and the rest of his friends, though! They're terrible! They can get high and drop out of school, but I'm not letting you follow that route!"

"But Connor's really wonderful with me; not to mention, he's better looking than Damian, and we can talk for hours without getting bored," I replied, somewhat edgy.

Meredith sighed and let it go. "Okay, but be careful, would you?"

At this point, I was almost tired of people warning me about him. It was like he was a werewolf or something and people knew, they couldn't tell me, because I'd overreact and shoot him with silver bullets, or something. But this wasn't a science fiction romance novel for teenage girls to obsess over, and I was entirely positive that Connor wasn't a mythical beast. He wouldn't eat me, so people need to calm down. I couldn't blame them, though; a psychological mother taught me about compassion early into my childhood, so I was more than used to knowing that people usually had good intentions behind their actions.

Reuniting with Meredith didn't suddenly mean I wasn't friends with Connor anymore, and it didn't mean I wouldn't go to parties. In fact, parties were allowed, and this time Meredith would come with me, to make sure I didn't "give in to peer pressure" -- the guys were cool with this; they didn't mind a female plus-one. Therefore, when the warehouse bash a week after Meredith and I made up came around, we went.

The same formation as when I went the first time, Meredith and I walked down to Damian's house. I felt better about the situation, since I knew I didn't have to hide it from her. I was excited, actually -- and so was she, since she had always been looking to meet Dam. When we saw him sitting on his porch step, we kept him company and he exuded his usual, endearing charm, like a lab rat given the ability to speak. He wasn't so quick to warm up to Meredith (I think her enthusiasm was too much for him to handle), but she could observe our conversations together. Judging by the knowing sparkle in her eye, she only approved more of some "potential relationship" I could have with him. Connor would have an alternate means of transportation to the place (which was good, since he'd probably make the car ride uncomfortable for Meredith) so we didn't have to wait for him.

The familiar Toyota pulled up to the house and I was hit with a wave of nausea. It gave me a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, like the girl in the Final Destination film who was given signs when something bad would happen. Meredith was here, though, so I knew that I would be okay. We filed into the back seat, Damian between Meredith and I, to prevent me from chattering incessantly with her; we were annoying together. Instead, Meredith got to be filled with the wonder that was Abigail.

The building was the same like it had always been, deja vu for me again, but it wasn't as cold. I squished my hands into my small light jacket anyways, just for old time's sake. We walked in together and met up with Connor and from there we split up. Meredith went with Damian, in an attempt to get to know him more and keep him company since he wasn't one for partying much, and Jeff and Abby went to do their own thing. The longer I watched the couple together, I couldn't help but wonder what could have possibly drawn the gorgeous girl to such an asshole of a guy. Oh well; to each their own.

I refrained from too much beer this time, but Con didn't notice so it was fine. I liked the attention I got from him and while we danced, I couldn't help but compare the way he treated me now to when I first encountered him. At that time, I couldn't imagine him ever talking to me, unless he was in a class of mine and needed me to move so he could see the board, but now I got to kiss him whenever I wanted. Intimacy was a daily expectation. I think my expectations have raised considerably, since the last time I kissed a boy was way back when I was in the ninth grade and dating my first official boyfriend, who was a little too short for my obviously model-like height. Like, wow, I should have been a supermodel or something with the legs I had (sarcasm, thanks). I had never made out since I met Connor, which was a little weird since I still couldn't answer any questions on if he liked me, or if we had a thing going on. Was I just one of many? Is that what Abigail was trying to warn me of? Did he call someone else every night, before he called me? Did he even think of me at all, or was I just a pastime when he didn't have anyone else to hold on to? I didn't want to wonder that, but I couldn't let myself get too far into things if they meant nothing to him. Not only was he attractive, he was too attractive. How could he see anything in a person like myself? The thought made me a little queasy as he danced with me, oblivious to the elaborate contradicting in my head.

"I'll be right back," I told him, tapping him on the shoulder.

He followed me out of the crowd, though, and I bumped into Meredith, who was frantic. "He's gone!"

"Who? Who's gone?" Connor asked her, confused.

"Damian!" She stressed, expressly worried. "He was really out of his mind -- I think someone dropped something into his bottle."

"What do you mean?" I asked her over the throbbing of the music. "Where is he?"

"I think he went outside," she said, running her fingers through her hair.

The three of us pushed through people to get through to the outside easily. If someone slipped him the same thing I had the first time I took a pill, he'd be smashed on a whole other level -- and if it was something else, that was worse. We stepped out into the cool, spring night and saw a figure in the distance.

"Damian?" Con shouted and the guy perked up in the darkness and came running across the parking lot towards us.

It was Damian, and he looked okay, save for a scrape on his left palm. I held it up and brushed the tiny pebbles off of it. "What happened?"

"I just fell," he replied, a huge grin on his face. "I'm so glad to see you, Charlotte! You're so beautiful!"

"Thanks, Damian," I didn't really know what to say.

"I love you, do you know that?" he slurred to me, swaying as the pill skewed his balance. At my lack of response, he spoke again. "Don't you love me?"

I hesitated, "Of course I love you, Damian! I --"

"No, you're lying," He shook his head and pulled away from me. "You're lying to me! You don't love me, you love him --" he pointed a shaky finger at Connor. "-- but he's an ass! He doesn't treat you like I would!"

"Damian, come back here!" I called to him, as he slowly got farther from us, like a bottle carried away from the shore by the shifting tides.

"You don't love me!" He shouted back, glassy eyes tearing up. He ran a hand through his hair and started tugging, then hitting himself. "After the way I've taken such good care of you, you don't love me!"

The next bit came in a flash and all I heard was skidding tires, a crash, the uncomfortable sound of breaking bones, and then silence that was worse than all the noises combined. I was in shock -- I ran as fast as I could, and a teen was getting out of his car.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed before turning to me in tears. "I didn't see him, I swear! I'm so sorry! Is he okay?"

I ignored everything he was saying and got to Damian; his left left was twisted under him at a bad angle, blood was mixing with the gravel and he was unconscious. That was when I could feel the tears dripping down my face. My heart lurched and I couldn't look anymore, I turned away and got sick on the ground. Meredith's frantic hands were already drumming away at the buttons of her phone before speaking into the receiver.

"I need help! My friend was just hit by a car! We need--"

"I'm so sorry! I'm dead! I didn't know what I was doing! Jesus --"

"Damian! No, fuck, no! Shit --!"

With all these sounds mixing together in a tragic cacophony, I couldn't believe what happened. I felt like I could see it coming, but it was so unexpected -- how could I foresee something like this happening? I was numb, I didn't know what I felt anymore. I didn't feel myself drop to the ground and the sharp rocks cut into my tights. Damian was dead. He was dead. This could not be happening. I brought my head to my hands and just let it all out, until I heard the sound of ambulance sirens and someone helped me up, asking me if I was okay.

"Of course I'm not okay! But it's my friend who needs help! Fuck off! Just save him! Please tell me you can do that!" I pleaded with the man in the black suit, but his answers I couldn't hear. I saw the crowd of people collecting to see what had happened – drunken people who had no lives. People who wasted away their Saturday nights doing stupid, rebellious things...

And I had become one of them.

Labels: nanowrimo