Young Writers Society

By the way, it doesn't really get scary yet

The wine tasted good on her tongue, and had a pleasant after taste in her throat. Opium scent incense and red candles gave the room a sweet smell and warm glow. The music was relaxing, but soul-filling, easily covering the thundering coming up through the floorboards. And together they floated on the dark purple bed.

Ivy's hair was red, though not as ginger as it would have been had she not hennaed it so dark, under her costume witch's hat. Her heavily eyelinered eyes questioned her own glass of wine before tipping it into Amy's.

"Someone has to stay sober tonight," she said resignedly.

A bleep on the computer informed them that the pictures were done. Ivy jumped up and sat at the desk to open them. Amy got up slowly from her comfy slouched position amongst the grey pillows, straightening out her black fairy wings.

"Ahh man!" sighed Ivy looking at the pictures. "These are fecking rocking!"

Amy gave up on her wings, cast them to the floor, and leaned over Ivy's shoulder to see. Picture after picture of a dark, red lit room, with a very professional looking rock band performing. When they were at the gig and Ivy was acting like a pro photographer, Amy never expected them to turn out so good.

No sooner had she complimented them than there was a knock on the door and a boy came in. Ivy quickly minimized the photos.

"Ello," said Jack as he came in, a bottle of beer in his hand and a sloppiness to his step. "Wondered where you guys had got to." Before he could shut the door there was a loud china-smashing sound from downstairs.

"Ohh shit!" said Ivy, who had been waiting for the moment sounds like that would start echoing all over the place. "I'd better go see how bad the battle scene is." She got up to leave, Amy followed suit.

"I'll come with you." But no sooner had she taken one step than she fell onto the bed. She stood up again, holding the bed post, and slowly walked towards the door. Then she went to fall again before Jack caught her.

"Or maybe she won't," he laughed.

Ivy laughed too. "You stay and make sure Jack doesn't look at the P...I...C....U..... No .... P .... I..... the pictures!" Then she ran across the hall and down the stairs

Jack started to drag Amy over to the bed. "I am not drunk!" she said indignantly, wriggling free. By the time she did fall again she was pretty much on the bed anyway. There she lay in a fit of giggles as Jack sat down at the computer desk.

"Right then," murmured Jack, rubbing his hands together then putting his hand on the mouse.

Amy heaved herself up to watch him. "Jack don't! That's harsh!"

"Just one." He opened a picture and admired himself in it for a while, before going to open the next on.

Amy grabbed his arm. "That's one!"

Jack, always fast and strong, grabbed her arm tighter and turned to face her. Amy laughed, "You'll get to see them tomorrow anyway." Jack sighed, defeated, and just continued to look at Amy. "Stop it," she said after a while, closing her eyes.

"Stop what?"

"Staring at me" She wrenched her arm out of his loosened grip and covered his eyes.

"Well if you're gonna be like that." he said, turning back to the computer to look again.

"Don't!" Amy wrapped her arms around him and dragged him back on the spinning chair away from the computer.

Jack joined in the play fight, stood up, and wrestled her onto the bed. Amy laughed her head off until she noticed they were both still and so it wasn’t a funny play fight anymore.

"It's my band," Jack said quietly.

Amy let out a burst of giggles. He sounded like a possessive six year old. Once the giggles had subsided into silence Amy started feeling uncomfortable. "You're doing it again." she whispered, close enough to be heard.

"Doing what?" replied Jack, leaning down onto her more so that Amy felt their eyeballs would soon be touching.

"Staring," she whispered.

"Close your eyes then."

Amy looked suspiciously at him with a frown.

"Trust me. I won't do anything," promised Jack.

After a few seconds of thought, Amy did as she was told; glad to be rid of his green penetrating eyes. With no sight her other senses became stronger. She couldn't smell the incense anymore, just Jack: his Lynx, the beer on his breath, the marijuana smoke in his hair. She could feel the bass line of the undistinguishable song downstairs thudding through the floor and up the legs of the bed. She could hear chilling notes of the song on Ivy's stereo making her skin prickle a little. She could feel Jack's body covering her; feel his cool black cross digging into her stomach. Jack had turned up to the Halloween party dressed as a gothic priest, but was now just dressed as "Jack in black jeans with a swinging great cross over his, for some reason bare, chest". Suddenly Jack's warm mouth was on hers.

Stunned, she tried to understand what was going on, and then found she was kissing him back. Trying to decide whether or not to stop him, she noticed he still had her wrists pinned down from the play fight. Then she panicked. Somehow she persuaded him to stop and look down at her. But then she didn't know what to say, so he went back to kissing her.

She did like Jack, always thought he was attractive. Plus he was in a band, and he played well. That was good enough for her. His right hand moved from her wrist to her hair and her face, as she tried to remember why she'd never gone for him before. His hand moved slowly onto her neck and onto her shoulder, pulling down the straps of her top and bra. And it felt good kissing him, so why was there something in her mind screaming This is wrong! His hand moved lower, slowly, dragging down her top with it.

"Grace!" screamed her mind. Her eyes snapped open, his hand warm on her skin. He'd always been with Grace that's why she'd never gone for him before. "Grace," she managed to murmur into his passionate mouth. She pushed him away with her now free hand. "Grace is downstairs!" she hissed.

Without so much as a shrug Jack moved back in, holding her down stronger than before.

"Shit!" thought Amy frantically. The alcohol in her blood had weakened her, she was helpless.

At that exact moment there was a loud bang mixed with another smashing sound, then screaming.

Jack and Amy simultaneously stood up and rushed out of the room. Jack nearly fell over at the top of the stairs, and Amy hastily pulled back up her straps.

They reached the bottom landing to find people shaking in the hallway, and others crawling over each other to get through the living room door. Most of the girls were crying, everyone looked horror stricken.

"What the fuck happened?" asked a boy from the kitchen doorway.

No one answered. People pushed past Jack and Amy and ran to the upstairs landing. Eventually everyone was out of the living room, and the door shut after them. People crouched and leaned all over the stairs and in the hallway, leaving a gap around the lounge door.

"It was a fucking gunshot!" cried a hysterical Ivy. She started to hyperventilate and Amy rushed to her rescue.

"What?!" asked Jack.

"Someone fucking shot through the window!" said a totally stoned stranger who no one seemed to know.

Grace rushed from one side of the hallway and into Jack’s arms, sobbing and shaking.

"Someone...Tu...Turn off .... the fucking.... light." Ivy said between pants. Everybody looked around for someone brave or stupid enough to go back in there. Amy already knew the light switch was outside the room, she rushed over and flicked it. But the loud heavy metal continued to play.

"Someone turn the music off!" said a girl in the corner.

"Turn off everything!" cried Amy. The people upstairs turned off the bathroom light, blew out the candles in Ivy's room, turned off her music and her computer, then turned off the upstairs hall light. The boys in the kitchen raced to the other side of the room and switched that off, then checked the front door lock. But still the music continued to play.

Jack stepped over the cowering teenagers and into the space by the door, his mind firmly made up.

"It's right by the door," said Ivy, her breathing returning to normal.

Jack nodded and slipped through the smallest crack he dared to open the door to. Everybody held their breath.

The music stopped. But then there was a smash, everybody screamed. Jack came out into the hallway with a red hand and everybody had to double look to see it was red wine.

The hallway lapsed into silence but for heavy heartbeats. Everybody looked around at each other's wide eyes.

What the hell could a party full of drunken teens trapped in a windowless hallway in the middle of the night do, having been shot at through a window?