Cassandra

Explanations will have to wait.

The air is thick with the stench of sweat and smoke. I hold my head, fingers digging into the red mess of my hair. Music pulses, rumbling in my chest and head. Even the very walls tremble to the beat. Words, discordant and scattered, occasionally become decipherable above the music, but the brief snatches of conversations, without context, only hint at meaning. I can't even tell where they came from. 

In the dim light, the people outside my small area of isolation seem faceless, generic, just more bodies moving to that overwhelming rhythm. I rub my face and my hand comes away, to my surprise, dry. My head hurts so much. I collapse into my seat, and - no, I was already sitting. I've been sitting alone at this table, in this nightclub, since the sun set. Just like yesterday. Just like everyday since the last one kicked me out. 

I stand up, no, lay down, no-no-no. Finally, my body and my mind agree, and I rest my aching head on the rough surface of the table, afraid I'll fall off, that the whole room will tilt, and I'll slide away. I can feel the grain of the wood. It's reassuring, makes me feel like I have something to hold onto. Even though I don't. I groan as my vision begins to swim, and worry for a moment that it might drown. I close my mismatched eyes, the dancing lights stabbing past the lids, and try to clear my head, fight against the dizziness. 

The music dies down a bit, and I can hear the words around me more clearly. They still don't make any sense. They scream at me, gaining clarity as the music fades. I'm about to scream when the thunder of the music finally roars back in my ears, drowning everything but itself. 

Soon, it will be dawn and the club will close its doors on the sun. I'll need to find some place to sleep, then. I had an apartment, once, but I lost it. I haven't been able to find the place for a month now, so I've missed rent. The landlady was nice. There are benches in the park, I think. Or soft grass, at least. Lost in thought, I don't notice the girl sitting next to me until she speaks. 

"Cassie, are you okay?" She whispers, and I nearly panic. I can hear her above the music. No, the music is silent. If there isn't noise, then I can hear. But I don't. All I hear is her. I gulp, still wary of the silence, and look at her. She's small, doll-like, with golden ringlets tie-dyed by the moving light.  I guess I take too long to speak, stunned as I am, because she repeats herself.

"Y-yeah... I'm fine," I lie. Of course I lie. No one believes the truth, anyway. Not the ones that matter. I cough, my throat sore. I taste something coppery, so I wipe my mouth, hiding the blood. 

"Cassie, I want to help you. Please." She seems trustworthy, so I nod. She takes my hand in hers, and for the first time I realize how high my temperature must be; her skin feels like ice. She helps me stand, steadying me, guiding me. The music comes back, but it seems dull now, no longer the same blaring rumble. She leads me out of the half lit, throbbing club, and out into the dark of night. I hope this is the right decision.