Page 9 of Neon Pestilence
It’s a constant loop in my head that doesn’t mesh well with the drugs and alcohol I have rushing through my body.
My head is pounding.
I’m dehydrated.
I’ve barely even danced.
What a fucking waste.
I decide to cut my losses and head back to my campground for the night, not caring about the nagging that’s going on in my brain.
Where are you going, little raver?
I wasn’t done playing our game.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I screech, slapping my palms against my head like it will somehow stop the verbal assault.
I make it back to my tent as soon as physically possible, trying to make sense of what just happened. Fairy lights shine around me, wrapping around different campsites. Colors seem to bleed, melting away into the ground. Everything looks soft and comfortable, safe even.
The voice tapers off slowly, becoming quieter with each step I take, until there’s nothing left but silence. Thank the Gods.
I change into a big comfy sweatshirt that has Bass Babe written on it in big pink letters, and an extra-large pair of sweatpants that I have to roll at the waist to keep them on my hips. I slide a pair of fluffy pink Crocs on and take a seat under my canopy.
My neighbors haven’t come back to their site yet, which isn’t unusual. There are so many after parties, get-togethers, and surprise sets around here that they’re most likely still out raging the night away.
My head is completely silent now, and it, for once, has never felt better. I can hear the distant thumps of bass from across the street. It’s calming, like thunder rolling in the sky before a storm.
I breathe in deeply, accepting the chaos that happened. A random person in a plague doctor outfit bent me over the rail and finger fucked me until I was seeing stars. The night could’ve gone much worse if I’m being honest.
I grab my cigarette box filled with joints and place one between my lips. Flicking my lighter, I inhale deeply, my lungs filling with that sticky-sweet smoke.
But that voice… My mind unintentionally drifts back to that mask. How the eyes seemed so hollow, but they made me feel so fucking full.
Letting out a breath, I try my best to ignore my racing mind, focusing on the smoke floating around in the chilly air.
Once I’m finished, I dip into my tent, closing the zipper tightly behind me, as if it would even do anything. I check my airmattress and fill it up before placing my vapes on the portable charger I brought.
I plop down on the mattress, and it feels like I’m floating on a cloud, the reminiscence of the drugs still buzzing through my body. Like when you go to bed drunk, but without the spinning.
Before long, sleep starts to take over. My eyes get heavier as I curl deeper into my fluffy blanket. Drifting away until the constant sounds of music lull me into my dreams.
I hear the voice again. Soft and fluttering, like butterfly wings.
Sweet dreams, little raver. We will meet again tomorrow.
I pass out, sleep caressing my body like a warm hug.
Chapter 9
Indy
The sound of laughter and birds chirping wakes me from my dreams. I feel like I slept for days, but when I check my phone, it’s only noon. Unzipping my tent, I slide my Crocs on and step outside, stretching my bones until they crack.
I feel so heavy, the alcohol didn’t make me hungover, luckily, but I do feel like I ran a marathon, which, if you count my steps, I probably did.
Making my way over to my car, I grab today’s outfit from the back. Black on black, a fallen angel. Making my way to my canopy, I set up a makeshift vanity and get to work.
Within an hour, I have turned myself into a gothic fantasy, an onyx bodysuit that barely covers my ass, creating the perfect hip dips. Big boots that fall just below my knees, and some dark, feathered wings that sparkle in the light.
