Page 2 of Brutal Savior

The rush hits mehard as the beat drops, as if the DJ planned it. I stretch my hands in the air and close my eyes, lost in the way my body comes to life with every breath. The beats shift, turning from music to something magical. A command to move.

I obey, opening my eyes to watch my hands in the strobes. I catch the eye of a girl dancing next to me, and she grins, shaking her lanky frame with the same abandon that I am. In this sweaty little underground club, no one is posing for Instagram selfies or prancing about in high heels. We’re all here to have a good fucking time.

My sneakers stick to the floor as I dance, and the crowd presses tighter, the dance floor filling up. The DJ raises the tempo from a trance to harsher hard house beats, and more men join in, some of them shirtless. Time passes as we move in a mass together, all dancing in our own little bubbles.

Too soon—though it could have been hours, who knows—the first telltale signs of the comedown creep in. The music losesits hypnotic power, the lights seem to dim, and all at once, I’m aware of the way my drenched crop top is clinging to my skin. I lost my water bottle ages ago and am thirsty as all hell.

Time for a break. Then I’ll drop the second pill I’ve got tucked in my bra and keep going.

Christ, it’s hot in here. The girls’ toilets are a hive of activity, women chatting and ducking into cubicles in pairs. The bouncers here turn a blind eye to pretty much anything, but even they’d react at people racking up lines in the open. I squeeze past the line as a woman shouts, “Hurry up, girls! Some of us actually need to pee.”

It’s really fucking hot.

I splash cold water on my face, then drink some from my hands. As I lean on the counter and stare at my blown-out pupils in the dirty mirror, a woman taps my shoulder. She’s a bit older than most of the others, into her thirties, and looks worried. A clubbing mother hen, looking out for everyone.

“Are you okay? I’ll grab you some cold water from the bar, if you like. Where are your friends?”

A damn good question. I arrived with Lisa and her new boyfriend but haven't seen them in…shit. Ages. Lisa lives in the building across from me, and we were supposed to Uber home together. I might not have enough in my bank account to make it on my own.

And just why the hell is it so goddamn hot?

I sway as heat rushes up my neck. Fresh sweat breaks out on my clammy skin. My heart races, and all at once, I realize what is happening.

Oh no. Oh fuck.

I reach for my purse, but it’s not there. What? I scan the bathroom through eyes that grow blurrier by the second. Where did I put it? My medication. I need…

“Hey.” The mother hen peers into my face. “Hey! What’s wrong?”

“My pills.” I stare around as though the purse will magically appear, but it must be somewhere on the dancefloor. Did I set it down to dance?

“You don’t need any more just now, darling. Come out into the smoking area. I’ll get you some water.”

I want to scream at her well-meaning but totally wrong attempt to help. “No. It’s medicine for my heart. In my purse. I don’t know—”

The room spins, and I can’t finish the sentence because all I can think about is staying on my feet. I lean over the sink as blood pounds in my brain. People are talking, but it’s distant. I can only pick out a few words.

“...what…”

“...hospital…”

“…911…”

Arms wrap around me, helping me to the floor as blackness covers everything.

***

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It's a horribly familiar sound, echoing around my brain as I come back into my body. I know where I am.

Hospital. Again.

I'm a fucking idiot. I open my eyes a crack, then shut them in a hurry when the light hits me. A quick shift of my limbs reveals a drip in my arm. A cart rattles as someone pushes it past my bed. Two women walk by, chatting quietly.

Christ, my head is pounding. I shift on the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position. At least I'm not dead.

Not this time.

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