Back in her room, Madeline's best-friend from home (Skylar) called her after she left a spam of voice messages on the walk back. She didn't go home much, there wasn't much motivation to when she had her friends and him back here to be fair. She'd probably predicted the incoming disaster, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to do that. Besides Madeline was hardly known for being mentally stable being the kid who was known for her crippling social anxiety in high-school.

About half hour had passed since leaving the club and like planned, Madeline had successfully met her goal to not be sober for this conversation, much to her bank account's objections. Who would want to be?

(Before conversation turned to the mechanics of back-masking in Barney and Dora the Explorer because fucked up Madeline is weirdly obsessed with conspiracy theories, especially to do with the Illuminati- thanks South Park, she asked him what was going on)

Suddenly snapping out of it, Madeline checked her messages. His name was illuminating the screen. Conversation cut out and turned to silence, a pitiful silence for a minute.

"What is it?", pondered Skylar

"He's done, he doesn-t want me anymore", she stuttered

Sending Skylar the screenshots, she just couldn't do it anymore. That familiar crushing anxiety took over, practically stripping her to nothing as the world turned hazy, the golden tint turned to a red. Pure evil eating at her soul.

'Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.'

Throat closing up into a gnawing gagging sensation, Skylar's voice blurred into muffled whispers through the speaker phone. Not like she could respond now anyway.

'It's okay.
You're oka-y
Your o-'

As her voice was filtered out by a painfully white light dancing on the wall up to the ceiling by the monstrous big light, Madeline kept asking herself: Was it that night? Was it me?