"Take me home, home, home."

MELANIE MARTINEZ | NURSE'S OFFICE

• • •

Music pulsated through Eden's veins, it was so deafening that her chest thudded with the bass, her skin tingled, and her lungs felt as soft and fragile as mush.

Max's warehouse party was located in the middle of a forest, almost twenty minutes away from her neighborhood. Over the roar of the music was a distant hazy chatter. People scattered in and out, stumbling into the woods where lights wrapped around the trees to prevent any safety hazards. The smell of weed and other substances hung in the air as thick and evident as fog, but it didn't bother anyone who was bouncing up and down like Tic Tac's being shaken in its box.

Eden was floating, no where to call her safe spot as she wandered from the garage band performing to the weirdoes lurking around in the forest to the jocks playing beer pong in front of the rust storehouse.

"I can't believe I wore these," Sage whined, tugging at the zip of her thigh high black boots. She was perched on the ledge of the warehouse, carefully removing them to examine her sore feet. "Why'd you let me wear these?"

"What are you talking about? I told you not to wear boots here," Eden retorted.

"You guys want a drink?" Braeden offered. He held two red solo cups filled with a clear alcoholic liquid.

"No thanks. I'm not really feeling up for that tonight," Eden said to his dismay.

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yeah. I will probably end up driving tonight since our designated driver is clearly not following protocol." She shot a look at Brady Novak, who was enveloped in a crowd of college girls.

Casting her eyes to the yellow lights of a vehicle pulling over at the curve, she spotted two figures and their voices echoing in the silhouette of the night. They stepped into the dim lighting under the red rusty warehouse and Caleb and Smith appeared before her. Two girls jumped to their entrance and handed them red solo cups.

"What're you guys doing out here? The party's inside!" Caleb yelled over the music,

"It's a little too loud!" Eden replied.

"But I'm going back in," Braeden said and took a drag of his drink. "Wanna dance?" He looked at Sage, who was on her third cup herself.

Sage wet her glossed lips. "Mm-hm."

Braeden's eyes widened as if he didn't expect her to say anything at all. Then he hesitantly extended his hand to which she urgently grabbed, and whisked her away.

"I knew it," Smith said with a proud nod. He raked his fingers through his hair and shoved his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket. "It's about time."

"Anyways, Nash is looking for me, so see you guys," Caleb said, he couldn't bring himself to look at Eden.

When he left, she looked at Smith with a small smile and grabbed a cup nearby to avoid having the pressure of starting a conversation. But as she rubbed her flushed neck, she couldn't help but talk to him anyway.

"Where are those promised dance moves, by the way?" Eden teased, biting the edge of her cup. "I take promises very seriously."

He sucked his teeth. "There was a technical malfunction, you know? Like bad wiring in my brain or something—it actually wants me to preserve my dignity," he said playfully, moving closer to her so he didn't have to yell.

"Oh is it? Maybe a few drinks will cure that malfunction," she said, and sent half of the contents of the cup spiraling through her throat. She tried not to blench at the unprecedented burn of the drink. It was strong. The strongest alcoholic beverage she had ever had.

His eyebrows flew up. "Sounds like you're trying to get me drunk. Doesn't that go against the entire meaning of 'Eden'?"

Simultaneously, they both sat down on a log when a drunk guy stumbled past them and fell face-first into the ground.

"Only if you believe the Garden of Eden was meant to be a place of perfection." She pushed a strand of her hair back, her eyes following the soft curve of his nose and the curved corner of his lips.

"Not that I'm religious or anything, but wasn't it?" he shifted beside her, turning inward. She was hit with a wave of natural fragrance—it wasn't that cologne scent but sea salt and mint.

"I think Eden was a paradise in disguise. In disguise because a paradise is secretly a place where you can fulfill your desires and live without inhibitions," she spoke softly into his ear. They were silent for a few moments, until she broke into an uncontrollable laughter, almost spilling the rest of her drink.

Smith smiled and laughed through his nose, until he grabbed her cup. "What's in this thing? I think it just made you a prophet."

"How fucking cool would that be? Me? A prophet?" she giggled. "Insane."

"Since you're so wise, do you see a possible date in my future?" he asked. His eyes filled with a sparking curiosity and excitement.

Eden pushed her thick brown hair away from her face, exposing her reddish face. "It depends. Who do you have in mind exactly?"

He hung his head to the side and cupped his chin. "Hm. There's this girl I know, she's kinda short, hazel brown eyes, always red in the face, I kinda promised her my awful dance moves so she'd come to this party."

She shook her head with a snort. "Oh! I think I know her. That's actually funny because she doesn't do dates."

"Is that so? Then it's a non-date."

"A non-date?" Eden repeated begrudgingly.

"Yep," he popped the 'p'. "A non-date with non-food and non-me."

"You're ridiculous," she shook her head, giggling. "I dunno. I think she'd have to think about this in a more quiet place. A place that doesn't give the illusion of hearing loss."

"Oh, I see, so a non-place?"

"No, a real place."

"Hey!" A familiar shrill interrupted the bubble they found themselves encased in and instantly stole their attention. Nash stumbled out of the warehouse, her hair frizzy and unkept, her words slurred and her eyes tinged red. A sloppy smile plastered on her face and walked with lethargy.

"You ... made ... it," there's something about the way she spoke, her breath labored. She tried to be flirty, batting her eyelashes. "What do you think?"

He opened his mouth to speak but she interrupted him again and placed her hand on his shoulder. With a flip of her dark poorly-made ponytail, she handed him her red solo cup, the clear liquid sloshing around.

"Eh, it's okay I guess," he replied at ease, while she giggled at his answer. "Where's Caleb?"

"I don't fucking know," she slurred. A sudden rage struck her eyes, she tore the cup away from him and shoved it to the ground. "And I don't fucking care."

"I'm so sorry, she's out of it!" A friend of Nash's cried, and flashed Smith an apologetic smile. The blonde woman with pink-streaked hair, who appeared to be in her mid-twenties, gripped Nash's arm and dragged her back inside. Eden had never seen her before in any part of this town.

"Does anyone have water?" Sage whined, and placed a cold hand over Eden's leather-clad shoulder. Her breath was rancid with alcohol, and she smacked her lips in thirst.

"Can you even find that around here?" Eden joked then paused, realizing that it probably wasn't a joke. Sage rested her chin on Eden's shoulder and sighed.

"Where's Braeden?" Smith asked.

Sage jerked her thumb behind her and Braeden's appeared from nowhere, throwing his fists in the air and jumping up and down to the trans music.

"Are you good?" Smith laughed.

"Fuck yeah I'm good!" Braeden hooted and jumped, his feet brushed harshly against a stray tree branch that propelled him onto the ground with a loud crash.

"Can we find a place where I can take my shoes off? I was dying in there, and I'm pretty sure my feet are bleeding," Sage said, completely ignoring Braeden's lunacies.

"Just take them off here," Smith suggested.

"No," Sage quickly said, looking around. "There's a weird guy with a foot fetish out here."

Eden smacked her forehead, doubling over at what she just heard. "What the fuck."

Suddenly, she remembered a storage room in the warehouse where most people went to for peace and quiet tucked away inside. She consistently found herself there every single year.

"Well, I know a place but it's inside the warehouse," Eden proposed.

Sage nodded anxiously. "Let's go then." The redhead looked at Braeden with half-lidded eyes. "You comin'?"

The storage room was on the second floor of the warehouse. It was massive with a remote-controlled roll up door that was as rusty and old as this warehouse. The room smelled of dust and vomit, loaded with brown boxes and old things that were as outdated as this 1990 warehouse. Sage sat on a box, massaging her sore blistered feet while Braeden ogled the remote.

"I can't believe it," Sage groaned. "Look at this!"

She flinched as she pointed at the skin peeling off her heel and the blossoming red layer beneath it.

"Wow," Smith awed. "Whoever owns this place probably didn't want anyone to be in here."

Eden shook her head. "It's abandoned. Hasn't been used in ages."

"Are you sure about that?" Smith examined the boxes. "The tape on this is pretty fresh." He traced his fingers along the brown tape.

"What do you mean?" she questioned.

He tore open one of the boxes and styrofoam balls piled out. Smith snickered at the cereal box he pulled out.

"What the hell?" he muttered. "This is cereal."

"Weird, and it's new?" Eden lifted the flap of the cereal box open, but didn't look any further.

Smith reached inside and pulled out a bag of white substance. When it registered what he had been holding in the palm of his hand, he gasped and dropped it instantly as if they were termites.

"This place is some kind of drug house or something," he claimed, shaking his head in disgust.

Eden was struck silent. Her heart pounded against her chest as a myriad of obscene ran through her mind. Whoever owned all that could've been around the corner. Just the sight sent a chill down her spine and electric sparks in her stomach.

Smith opened his mouth to speak when suddenly the clash of metal rattles and a shriek of fear escaped Sage and Eden's lips. The three hastily look around the room, searching for what might've caused the sound, and then their eyes land on Braeden.

"Oops," he said. He dropped the remote and that's when they realized that the steel roll-up doors had come down.

"Braeden ...what did you do?" Eden treaded, her voice rose in octaves then dropped suddenly.

"I might've–don't worry though, here I got it!" he fumbled with the controller and haphazardly pressed the buttons, none of which were working. "Ah, shit."

"Someone help us!" Sage flew to the doors, banging her fists. She persisted for the next two minutes, and Eden joined. The music was too loud and everyone outside was stuck in an out-of body experience. Was this really happening?

Sage pressed her cheek against the cool steel doors and sent daggers at Braeden with her eyes. Braeden shied away and tripped on a box, landing on the hard ground with a groan.

Eden rolled her eyes until their hurt, yet Smith remained calm but somewhat panicked in his breaths.

"We're never going to get out of here," Eden uttered.

"Not alive anyway," Sage added, her eyes glistening with tears she had been preparing for the entire evening.

"You guys.." Braeden whispered, his face a sheet of white. His whisper so low and lethal that it could've been a figment in Eden's imagination.

There, behind a few boxes was the quivering body of a teenager, pale-stricken with a sickly grey. Lips lined with a deathly blue.

Eden's breath hitched and she felt the contents of her stomach thrust out of her body when she realized who it was. The brown hair was in its familiar ponytail, and her skin no longer has its glow.

Nash.

Dead.

Braeden, with shaky hands, nudged her limb body. Eden couldn't look, the next thing she knew she tumbled into a corner and hurled.

"She's still alive."