I WILL NEVER drink alcohol again.

This isn't the first time I've told myself to stop drinking, definitely not. For months, I've only known the red cup that contains this yellowish liquid substance that I still can't really interpret. But I don't have to. All I have to do is drink the stuff down and wait out the effects of the alcohol. That usually doesn't take too long, because I drank pretty much nothing before all my problems, so I can't tolerate much ─ actually nothing ─ at all.

As soon as this slight bout of dizziness comes over me and the next moment I feel that my problems are actually not problems at all anymore, I could hug the whole world. The music booming loudly through the bass and making the floor vibrate is feeling suddenly comfortable, and the many people at this college party suddenly don't bother me at all. I casually lean against a gaming machine that's standing around and look around me cursorily.

And then I see her.

I don't know if it's the effect of the alcohol that gets me so worked up, but I don't think I've ever seen such a pretty girl in my entire life. Actually, the word 'pretty' doesn't even come close to describing her.

She's relatively tall and has long legs tucked into a pair of tight jeans. The t-shirt she's wearing hides a little of her bust, even though it doesn't have a plunging neckline or look special in any other way. It's just orange, but not that horrible, garish orange that doesn't suit anyone in this world, but rather sunset orange.

Sunset orange? How drunk am I please?

Suddenly, the corners of her mouth lift up, then she shakes her head with a laugh, her long, light blonde curls bobbing with her. I would have given a lot to hear her laugh with my own ears, but the music in the room is far too loud to understand anything. I try to read her lips as she says something to her friends, but she's standing too far away for me to catch anything. She looks flawless and perfect to me ─ stupidly, the exact opposite of me. My very last remaining brain cell is instilling in me that there's no way I should go over to her right now, because I doubt she'd want to have a conversation with a completely drunk guy who can barely stand.

Her eyes move around the room and linger on me, almost as if she sensed me staring at her. I don't look away, but lean back slightly until my back is against the wall and I look less like I can barely stand and will fall over at any moment. Her eyes follow my movement, then she smiles, as if she knows exactly what I'm trying to hide.

I feel even more unreal now as she looks at me. I wonder what her name is. Maybe I should just go and ask her after all, because she doesn't seem averse to it ─.

The music is suddenly gone and silence and unease spread through the room. Except for the heavy breaths of those who were dancing until just now, and a few startling sounds, there is nothing to be heard.

»DEAN WALKER!«

A deep male voice sounds all at once, but it seems to be a little farther away from me. Nevertheless, I'm immediately on alert and the alcohol, whose effects had been so pleasant until just now, is suddenly causing pure dizziness in me, while nausea is rising in me.

»IS DEAN WALKER HERE?«

Another guy, his flashlight illuminating every single face in the room, is now shouting through the area. He's standing not far from me now, but I'm paralyzed, barely daring to move.

I weigh how good my chances are of getting out of here in one piece. If I'm lucky, these guys will notice me in about two minutes because of the number of people here, but then it would be too late. Ten steps away from me is an emergency exit door that could get me right out of the building, but until I get there I already would have been seen.

My mind is made up despite everything, and I wonder how I can even think a clear thought when I'm drunk. I'd take that damn emergency exit door.

Slowly pushing myself off the wall, I take no more than two small steps forward. I'm still standing in the slightly darker part of the room.

No one has seen me yet. »SHOW YOURSELF NOW!«

The guy with the flashlight is obviously out of patience, but I force myself to get my breathing under control. They're not going to get me, he can scream around as much as he wants.

I guess you would think that I should have practiced by now in how to act in situations like this, since I've done absolutely nothing else than run away from these guys for the last few months, and yet every time I feel like I'm not going to make it this time. That they'll catch me even though I haven't really done anything.

A hand is suddenly on my shoulder.

I spin around quickly, my hand already raising to punch that person in the face, but then I stop. It's Gavin Reyes, who looks at me warningly and then silently points at something. I look at my best friend confused because I have absolutely no idea what he's trying to tell me. Gavin is probably the only person who hasn't turned his back on me, believes me, and is lying to the police about me. I couldn't be more grateful to him, but right now I would love to shake him because I really don't have much time and he' just slowing me down. He points a little more energetically to the sofa directly in front of the emergency exit door. Slowly it dawns on me that I should hide there, so I nod curtly and venture a few more steps forward. Pure adrenaline pumps through my veins as I glance around for these guys.

»YOU CAN'T HIDE FOREVER, WALKER!«

I ignore the voice and head to my destination. As a scream suddenly rings out, I throw myself without any hesitation behind the empty couch. Tensely, I hold my breath.

»I really don't know who this Dean Walker is,« a frightened, high-pitched voice shouts. These guys hit someone, and judging by the voice, it was a girl.

Dirty bastards.

My fingers itch to step in, but I could never take on that many at once. It surprises me more and more how reasonable I act when you realize how many red cups of yellowish liquid substance I've already had.

As I get down on my knees and turn toward the emergency exit door, my eyes widen in shock. The beautiful girl from earlier is standing directly in my way and has noticed me as well. Her slender fingers clasp the door handle, but she makes no move to open the door. Apparently, she also wanted to escape until she saw me. I really mustn't utter a word, or I'd be caught in a flash. It would be even better if she didn't stare at me so obviously, but she looks so scared and terrified that I don't think she'll stop anytime soon. Under other circumstances, her stare wouldn't have bothered me, but this is really serious. I try to put the deepest desperation and pleading as I can into my gaze as I look at her and the doorknob in turn.

Please, just let me out of here.

She hesitates, eyeing the door handle and me in turn, just as I do. You can literally see her inner struggle and I doubt that she has ever been in such a situation. I wonder how old she is. I've never seen her on the campus before, so she can't have been at the University of New Haven too long. She's maybe eighteen or nineteen and I'm about to ruin her life before we've even spoken a word to each other.

Well, provided the police find out she's helping me. If she helps me anyway.

Just as I suspect she's not going to let me pass through and instead give me away to these guys, her look suddenly becomes determined and sincere. Slowly, she drops the door handle, one finger at a time. With a quick gesture of my head, I tell her to move away from the door and she does, without hesitation. Actually, I want to be grateful, say something or at least smile, but all that seems too inappropriate in this situation. I would love to apologize to the pretty girl for dragging her into my problems for a teeny second, but that's also impossible.

As I spring out, pull the door and escape, my chest feels even tighter than usual. I notice the guys' screams and footsteps only incidentally, because my only thought as I run is about this girl.

I want to see her again, but I know that's impossible.

-

What's something that means a lot to you, but no one would understand?

My answer:
-the imaginary world i've created in my mind. it's my comfort place i escape to when reality gets too hard.
-talking to myself idk it's like therapy to me
-look at the night sky.