Brett Richers absolutely hated being sober. The world of sobriety was like a jarring mess of emotions that felt like knives in  his side and migraines that weighed him down like bad friends and rain clouds. Sobriety wasn't even the slightest bit kind, it was mean and terribly petty like the girls at Alabaster that were constantly waging war against each other over the falseness of the Rumor Mill. Sobriety was either a taunting realm of pain or a taunting bully that pointed out all of Brett's fears and made them come to life.

Sobriety told Brett that he was a terrible person. That Mr. Richers was right; he was ruining his life, a waste of potential, a waste of a person. That he not only ruined his self but the people around him. According to Sobriety, he ruined Benny Costa and he was going to ruin Mia Matthews too.

And the worst part? There was absolutely no justifiable sob story for his complete and utter recklessness. It wasn't like his parents had a horrible marriage. They had a great marriage and when Brett used to actually care about playing Lacrosse and becoming a lawyer, his Dad had been superbly supportive. He didn't have any crazy sibling rivalries. His eight-year old brother, Tristan, was the the sweetest kiddo in the world and his older brother, Paul, still sent him postcards and called everyday from his art college in England - sometimes Brett picked up but most of the time he ignored him.

The truth was, Brett didn't drink or get high excessively because he had a shitty life. The truth was, Brett did it to be cool, because everyone was doing it, because if you had the money to get the best, why not? It had started with a quick sniff here and a quick drink there when he started attending ragers and the next thing he knew, it was all he wanted and nothing else could compare.

Sobriety told him the Brett before drugs was smarter, funnier, and much more considerate and it tortured Brett when he dared to think such a thought could be true.

Luckily, that's where Intoxication came in. Intoxication was Brett's best friend who picked him up and stood up to the bully that was Sobriety and told him to go fuck himself. Intoxication told Brett that he was fine just the way he was, wonderful even. Intoxication made anything and everything possible and felt like Heaven itself rather than the hell that was sobriety.

Intoxication told him that he was just having fun. That Benny Costa had been having fun too, but she couldn't hang. That Mia Matthews just wanted him to suffer with her - and other times, he just needed to convince her to learn how to let loose.

Intoxication told him he didn't know how good life could be until he found it, that he wasn't really living before. And besides, if he could afford it, then he deserved it; words of Mr. Richers himself.

Brett was dancing with Intoxication now as he stepped out of the crowd, whoops and pats on the back drawing him forward.

"Dude, you are so gonna die!" Chris Edwards, the chestnut-haired Lacrosse player, exclaimed before breaking out into a very sober grin. "But if you don't do it, you owe me 150k! Lets go!"

There was a chorus of 'woo's' from the rest of the Lacrosse players rallying behind him, surrounding Brett Richers like he was a circus show and they were the spectators that had come for a thrill. Which was exactly the case and everyone knew it but Brett hardly cared or even realized as he rolled back his shoulders and stepped on to the edge of the balcony that overlooked the ballroom of dancing girls and dabbing boys flashing Rolex watches.

All he cared about was the DJ blasting Rae Sremmud's 'Swang,' - which was his absolute jam! - and the glittering gold chandelier that looked as if it were frozen in midair before him. The hushed whisper of sense told him that swinging on a chandelier wasn't the best of ideas but Intoxication told him that he could swing to the other side if he kept up his stealth. There was another balcony on the other end of the ballroom, gangs of girls and boys cheering on the other side.

"Doooo it, doooo it, doooo it, doooo it!"

The hushed whisper of Sobriety told him not to do it but the five glasses of champagne from the spewing fountain told him anything was possible - and imagine how much white girl he could get with 150k, which he desperately needed after Mr. Richers cut him off due to getting arrested for the XS club bar fight.

This was definitely a way to make up for it.

"You sure you want to do all that? "Someone piped up from the crowd but Brett chose to drown them out with deaf ears.

Balancing on the tips of his black, glossy Balenciaga loafers, Brett bowed forward, reaching for the chandelier - and then he slipped, falling forward. There was an array of screams as everyone waited to watch him fall but Brett managed to cling to the gold curve of the chandelier, toes barely scraping the edge of the balcony.

Applause roared up towards him.

"Holy shit, he's fucking crazy!"

"You got this, Brett!"

"I love parties!"

"I believe you can fly!"

"Brett, stop! What are you doing?" Someone screeched - or to be more accurate, Mia Matthews screeched, barreling through group of Lacrosse players egging Brett on from the balcony. Brett was able to slightly crane his head to catch sight of her.

The kinky-haired beauty was clad in a glittering, retro Lanvin gown, black hair woven into a ponytail that sent her kinks spiraling into her angelic face. However, Brett only wished she would go away because Mia only made him feel guilty and guilt wasn't fun.

She all but shoved past Chris Edwards who had started throwing Benjamins at Brett whilst everyone laughed, leaning over the edge but careful not to destroy what very little grip Brett had.

"What are you doing? Get down!"

"He's making this dough, chill out!" Chris retorted, stirring up another round of whoops.

Brett managed to sigh, although it was quickened because his heart was racing as he tried not to look down. He needed to swing to the other side so he could have more fun with Intoxication. So he could escape the forever chasing talons of Sobriety.

"Mia, don't kill the fun!" He shouted, all the while trying to figure out how to get a swing going without falling.

Intoxication told him to just jump while Sobriety, that was taking form in Mia, told him to get down before he died.

But Intoxication sexily purred that she was waiting on the other side.

So Brett let go, the loud shriek of Mia and the cheers from the partygoers ringing over Brett's favorite song. He let go and felt a whoosh of gravity as he pushed his dangling legs upward, flashes of blurring gold, rich colors, and city lights filled his vision. His heart was beating out of his chest as if something was burning within him and he almost wanted to throw up but he had Intoxication by his side.

And Intoxication was tilting its head back screaming, "This is such a blast!" 

Sobriety could never feel like this.

Below him, Brett could hear screams ricocheting around him and what had to be cheers - and then the next thing he knew, he was slamming into the next balcony. He tried to position his feet to land on the ledge but drunkenly missed, wildly swinging his body until he was plummeting into the crowd of onlookers instead.

He soared into the screaming crowd, knocking nearly five people to the ground. The sound of glass champagne bottles smashing filled his ears and suddenly all he could see was black.

ⒾⓁⓁⓊⓈⒾⓄⓃ

"Did-did-did I get the 150...k?"

"Yeah, you did. Congratulations."

Brett found himself lazily coming to, sitting upright before he could even see, let alone hear. It took a moment before his senses came smacking into him again; the vibrations of the music - 'Mabel's Finders Keepers,' - and the colors in front of him that slowly morphed into a picture. Mia Matthews was hovering over him, hand reaching up to place something devastatingly cold on his head.

He winced as she did, trying to swat her away but Mia didn't budge.

They were on the other balcony, except it was completely devoid save for a group of freshman girls in long, floral gowns who kept sneaking glances at the two as they yapped away. The party was still ongoing, the sound of endless chatter and drunken dancing wafting up from below.

Brett wished he could join everyone but he apparently had a gigantic lump on his head, which was killing him immensely. And to top it all off, a part of him felt bad about the thought of ditching Mia when all she was trying to do was help.

This was how he knew he needed something stronger than alcohol. Champagne was nice and all but it was only so much that it could do before the depths of reality came back, screaming his name.

"Where's Chris?" He asked, just as Mia said, "Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"

They both stared at each other then, Brett realizing the alcohol wasn't working. He could still recognize the pain in her eyes, the pain that lingered behind everyone's eyes when they looked at him. And worse, he was feeling horrible. Sobriety was coming back with a vengeance and he was feeling horrible.

Sucking in a breath, Brett reset his jaw, trying to summon that sweet Intoxication. Where was she? "Don't worry about what I do, okaaaay?"

"You know I can't do that." Mia remarked and although there was a hint of anger, the one tone that spoke the most was incredible sadness.

Brett felt a pang in his chest that wasn't from the swinging chandelier dive.

"Well then you're just gonna have to learn how to stop, Mee-yah," He drawled, doing his best to pretend Intoxication was right by his side to back him up. "You can't control what people do. Geez, you have to learn how to stop being so bossy and controlling and stuff."

Mia scoffed, unknowingly retracting the ice pack from his bruise that immediately started to throb without it but Brett held back a grimace.  "I'm only bossy when you don't like what I have to say."

"Because it's not true! You just don't want to see me have fun and that's why I broke up with you!"

"No, Brett, I broke up with you. In the police car after you got arrested. Don't you remember?"

Brett found himself paralyzed. Because his mind couldn't conjure the memory of Mia breaking up with him. At all. In fact, he'd thought Mia had broken up with him over text, when she'd promptly told him she couldn't be with him anymore but still wanted to be friends. That was reality, right?

At that, Mia started to cry, slamming the ice pack on the floor and burying her head in her hands.

The yapping freshman girls immediately erupted into conspicuous whispers over their small shots of tequila.

Brett  couldn't shake the bully that was Sobriety looming over him. It told him this was his fault. That with his horrible behavior he was hurting everyone around him. That once again, he'd turned a kind, innocent girl who should be hanging out with her friends into his personal caretaker, there to clean up his messes whenever Intoxication went too far.

He couldn't even think about how much he'd ruined Benny Costa. Or his Dad who was convinced he was going to have to sell his law firm and say goodbye to the dream of keeping the business in the family. Or his brother, Tristan, who just wanted to play Lacrosse in the Richers' private field everyday after school but Brett was always too stoned. Or his brother, Paul, whose calls he'd been outright ignoring yet they still kept coming. Or-

"I need a drink or something, I can't do this." Brett started, staggering to his feet.

Mia grabbed his hand, not bothering to get up. "Brett, please, stop doing this. I'm really afraid for you, okay? You just keep getting worse and worse-"

"Do yourself a favor, baby, and stop worrying," Brett chided, letting go of her hand. "Just go have fun and let me just chill. I'll be allll-righhht."

He even added a pip in his step as he went to prove it, leaving Mia on the balcony in hopes he'd at least undid some of his mess.

As he hurried down the winding staircase, the music of the ballroom grew even louder but Intoxication somehow sang over it, beckoning him to one of the glimmering champagne fountains that waited. Intoxication told him they were singing his name, promising to make everything all better. Promising to make the image of Mia crying go away, promising to make him feel happy again.

Brett all but stumbled down the steps, itching for a drink, and bumping right into another fellow party goer who was hastily running up the way he'd come.

"Party on, dude." He saluted with an easygoing smile but the boy didn't budge and it took what little bit of Intoxication surrounded him to vanish for him to realize he was standing directly in front Jared Hayward.

The Jared Hayward. Yet another mistake that Sobriety was chastising - no, practically condemning him for.

He gulped as the brown-haired boy, carrying a large, sturdy box regarded him with a blank expression as if he couldn't decide if he was going to beat him up or kill him right then and there. Sobriety said Brett shouldn't hold it against him either way.

Surprisingly, Jared smiled. "Got a fresh supply if you need a kick."

Brett blinked, wondering if he was hearing the boy right. Maybe he was more drunk than he'd thought but it was a nice illusion Intoxication was creating.

When Brett didn't answer, Jared shrugged. "Wasted, right? I get that." He grinned before moving past him up the stairs, leaving Brett to shiver in creeping sobriety.

But just as Brett thought the coast might just be clear, that perhaps there weren't too many reasons to drown himself in Dom Perignon, he heard Jared's feet shuffle as he stopped in the middle of the staircase.

"I know it was you and Damon that outed me, by the way. But I'm not ragingly furious or anything. So take it easy on yourself out there."

With that he disappeared, leaving Brett to pale as Intoxication began to rain down from the balcony and into the dazzling party below.

ⒾⓁⓁⓊⓈⒾⓄⓃ

To Sable's delight and Jac's detachment, hordes and hordes of pills and packets were raining down over her as she stepped on to the stage of the ballroom like a grand welcoming. From above, Jared Hayward was having a ball of a time gracing the dance floor of guests with naughty party favors, a rush of intoxicated cheers ringing up in response. The birthday girl's appearance was barely acknowledged as rich kids dispersed into a frenzy, the sounds of chaos ensuing as some fought through heels and diamonds to get their hands on the array of vivid blue and crisply white party ingredients that speckled the glossy, reflecting floor. Whilst others took refuge near the ritzy refreshment tables, pointing and jeering at the spectacle that everyone had seen nearly a million times.

A long time ago, Jac would have laughed too. It wasn't a rager until someone started showering the guests with glittering champagne and other reckless assortments after all. However now, she could only look at her peers with detached annoyance. They all looked like finely dressed animals.

Blake Evans had been right and she didn't have any energy to hate him for it all over again.

"Get this, Rob! It's magnificent!" Sable directed the lone cameramen as they stood on the stage platform beneath the balcony.

The stage was broad and overlooked the entire ballroom, ornamented with dyed Gardenia flowers and dark red curtains that matched several of the tapestries with an arcing balcony decorated with orbs of white light.  Upon the stage, Calvin Harris was spinning beats in the DJ station behind the camera crew,  abruptly stopping Raleigh Ritchie's 'The Greatest,' to play a song far more fitting for the birthday girl's arrival - not that anyone was really paying attention.

No one turned their heads even when a slow, sexy rendition of Rihanna's 'Birthday Cake,' started to play, volume much louder than the previous songs and felt as if it were rocking the entire MGM mansion.

As the camera caught the chaos, Todd quickly leaned over a cooing Sable to whisper in Jac's ear. "For a good scene, I'd suggest throwing a fit about the lack of attention. Spoiled, rich girls are so trendy these days. Think Kylie Jenner." He chirped, cupping his hot breath in Jac's ear.

She couldn't help but recoil, though she didn't have any objections caught in her throat. If Jac actually had feelings, maybe she would have been as resistant as possible to her parents' hired fiasco. However, Jac was dead and all she could do to feel even remotely animate was to follow whatever tasks was given.

With a sigh, she picked up the hem of her gown so she wouldn't trip on her Valentino heels and marched over to the DJ station, snatching the mic away from Calvin Harris.

Sable quickly gasped and told Rob to direct the camera as Jac cleared her throat, the mic wheezing over the music and commotion.

"Can I have all of your wonderful attention, please?" She requested dully.

However, no one gave her a glance. The Lacrosse team kept battling each other for packets, having made a game out of who could catch the most coke, and the rest of the frenzied guests were letting colorful pills rest on their tongues, some even trying to catch them in thin air as they fell.

Jac frowned, lifting her head to look up at the balcony ledge. "Mr. Hayward, can you please stop supplying the guests? I think they've had enough."

From above, Jared froze midway into dumping another box before flushing abashedly and disappearing, the supply shower skidding to a halt. Yet no one thought to look at the stage, still flaunting their newfound gifts and resorting back to dancing drunkenly on the floor. Lindsey Wells, who had managed to get into the party with a 2008 Ashlee gown, was flailing her hands, claiming to her far more wealthier friends that the E was already taking hold and she was seeing butterflies in the ceiling.

'What a fake.'

Jac realized she truly hated parties, especially when she was sober.

"Can I please have everyone's attention?" She asked kindly, though she didn't receive even a fraction of it.

"May I please have your undivided attention? It's my birthday bash."

A few of the wannabes stopped in their tracks to look, clearly hoping for some kind of acknowledgement.

"YOU STUPID FUCKING ANIMALS! GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING ATTENTION OR THIS PARTY'S GETTING RAIDED BY THE POLICE AND I WILL NOT HESITATE TO CALL THE POLICE ON MY OWN FUCKING PARTY BECAUSE IT'S MY PARTY SO PAY ATTENTION TO ME!" Jac suddenly found herself screeching to the top of her lungs, throat set aflame as she conjured the best deep, bass voice she could muster. She almost fooled herself into thinking she was a full grown man as the mic swallowed her scream, projecting it onto the audience.

Nearly everyone froze, finally acknowledging Jac as she stood slightly panting before them. A few jaws had dropped whilst others covered their mouths in appalling shock. Even the music had stopped, leaving everyone to gape at such a startling outburst.

From the side of the stage, Todd mouthed, 'Nailed it.'

Jac didn't care. The scream wasn't for the show, it was supposed to make her feel something but of course, it had failed. All it'd given her was a sore throat and the warning of sweat breaking beneath her Natasha Denona foundation.

Pretending as if she were satisfied - completely unashamed as she channeled Erika Felix - she adjusted the mic and put on her best smile. The smile that Damon used to say was incredibly irresistible despite both of them knowing only he had such an effect. With that smile, Jac was trying to get some type of bitterness going but yet again, she didn't feel anything.

"Thank you for coming to my birthday bash," she thanked, feeling as if she were reciting a fake speech. "I'm so pleased to have you all here. Firstly before we celebrate, I would like to-"

"You sounded like a man back there but you're still hot!" Someone shouted from amid the crowd.

Jac tried not to let her smile crumple, clearing her throat again. "Ahem, firstly before we celebrate, I would like to thank my friends, Benny Costa and Veronica Conrad, for helping me plan this party and giving me the best birthday week anyone could ever ask for." 'Lie, lie, lie, this is all a lie.' "And I would also like to thank my parents for getting together and giving birth to me...or whatever - who are not at this party  for their sake."

Though that earned a round of snickers, Jac could barely get herself to laugh. Strutting away from the DJ station, she tried to get annoyed with how Rob followed her to the front of the stage, zeroing in the lenses on her poreless face.

Of course, she felt nothing.

"Now, on to the best part before everybody wanted to go crazy over a bunch of pills," She announced dazzlingly. In her head she sounded like a lame lamb. "Calvin, please."

At her cue, the DJ hurried back to the station, starting up Rihanna's 'Birthday Cake,' again as the broad, ornate doors of the mansion began to open. There was immediately an uproar of cheers and awed applause.

Instead of another lucky group of eligible guests pouring into the party, a squad of four men in bow ties and slicked back hair emerged, wheeling a small circular table adorned with a black, velvet cloth. Atop the luminous table was a five foot cake, a spiraling tower of red velvet and french vanilla frosting all making up a winding rosary, candles reading the number 'seventeen' in a scrawly signature-like fashion at the very top.

The entire ballroom shifted as people moved out of the way, the cake parting a crowd as if it were some kind of regal entity. Even those who were dangerously dancing across the line of coolly tipsy to drunk stopped in their tracks to watch the cake make its reign through the crowd and up to the steps of the stage.

Jac couldn't help but remember the party wasn't exactly planned to go like this. If Sable Clarke-Simmons, a.k.a. Dash, hadn't sabotaged the party with illegal activity, Jac would have ridden in on a carriage behind her cake rather than come up on the stage to break up a drug frenzy - and just like that, something happened.

The thought of her ruined entrance evoked something within her, something Jac desperately clung to as soon as it struck.

Jac was officially ravaged by one emotion; disappointment.

A chorus of 'Happy Birthday's and 'I Love You's' filled the ballroom, causing Jac to cringe as the bow-tie-clad men lifted Jac on a stepping platform so that she was at an equal level with the intricately-made dessert.

It took a full three minutes of everyone going wild, trying to make sure the birthday girl heard their well wishes that Jac could only dismiss as fake, before the ballroom finally fell silent and suddenly it was just Jac and the cake adorned with glimmering candles.

The number seventeen stared back at her, the bright lights of the chandeliers dimming as a thousand breaths were held.

Disappointment was morphing, pounding in her head, telling her this was a complete catastrophe and not the way her party was intended at all. Why couldn't she have normal parties like normal people did, where all they had was cheap beer and a bonfire if they were lucky? She'd seen stuff like that in movies and had never been envious before until now.

Disappointment started to morph as quickly as its' last transition, this time into longing. Into wishing.

There were a thousand wishes running through her head that once felt so desolate she hardly felt alive.

She wished for her parents, the old parents that loved each other more than they loved what was around them.

She wished for Erika, when it was just the two of them and the only thing complicated in their friendship was whether or not they went shopping on Friday or Saturday.

She wished for Paisely, the old Paisely that was super kind and would never leak Veronica's sex tape.

She wished for Damon, how it used to be before he cheated and before they were always angry with each other but still needed one another to breathe.

Squeezing her eyes shut and flipping her jet black hair over her shoulders, Jac didn't realize what she was wishing for until she'd blown out the candles. And when she opened her eyes, the entire mansion burst into applause and whoops that made her ears pop, the DJ starting up a new track that immediately forced the sectioned venue into a cohesive horde.

However, instead of joining in the fun with a light-hearted whoop of her own, the birthday girl had tears building up in her eyes and a new emotion to feel.

Hopelessness.

Because for once, her seventeenth birthday wish was one she would never get.

Love.

Blinking the tears away before anyone could see them, Jac quickly hurried off the stage, the sight of Rob, Sable, and Todd following her with their sturdy camera only making her feel worse. She truly couldn't stand the fact she was being recorded as she suppressed a breakdown but didn't bother protesting.

Nothing really mattered anymore.

Mingling hopelessly through the crowd, managing to return every 'Happy Birthday,' and play along with every, 'I got you a gift so pull some strings for me,' small talk, Jac finally found shelter at the refreshments table. She was usually good at keeping up a balanced diet but the red-clothed table of chocolate strawberries, Cannoli, Italian cassatas, and caviar was starting to look like a light in the darkness. A glimmering, burning bush promising divine comfort.

Pecking the cheek of some senior cross-country runner from Pacific Vista, Jac made a beeline for the chocolate-covered strawberries and she didn't waste a hesitant moment, popping the strawberry in her mouth and letting the chocolate dissolve on her tongue.

"That's amazing! We could start a rumor that no matter what she eats, she's just flawlessly skinny! I love it, imagine all the self-esteems that will be crushed!" Sable clapped her hands excitedly from behind her, something Jac was starting to note she did whenever she was pleased.

Jac started to say in her damn dreams but before she could, an arm was suddenly slung around her neck, causing her to sway.

"Happy Birthday, Jac. Ready for the best birthday present you've ever had?" Chris Edwards, Alabaster's chestnut-haired Lacrosse player, exclaimed with the smugness of a demon. Unlike the rest of his peers, Chris didn't sound the slightest bit drunk. It was just in his nature to be a skeeze, unfortunately.

Upon hearing his voice, Jac quickly wiggled out of his grip, jabbing a manicured finger at him as if that would keep him away as she devoured another strawberry. "I can't believe you even dared to turn a birthday wish into something disgusting."

'Silly Jac. You don't get love. Just jerks.'

Despite her hatred for him, Chris still looked dashing in an old money way with his black, velvet, two-button Boglioli suit paired with a mauve turtleneck. His red hair was slicked back, bringing out his piercing, brown eyes and jawline that strangely could only be described with one word; devious. As if he were the birthday boy, he wore a large crown on his head made out of Serendibite and real silver that sat purposely lopsided on his head.

"Yes, yes, I'm loving it. Rob, get a better angle." She heard Sable whisper and the camera was immediately being shoved in Chris' face, catching the tilt of his head as he posed.

"Nice camera crew, it's very dramatic," Chris commented, earning himself an eye roll. He leaned over Jac to grab a strawberry of his own. "Like you."

"What do you want, Chris?" Jac asked with a disgruntled sigh, almost hating that she asked. Chris had a weird obsession with tormenting Jac about every single move she made, from what she said to who she was dating. In fact, if Alabaster Prep had a Gossip Girl, Chris would be running the blog and snapping the pictures himself.

He was always in the middle of drama and always had something to say about it. Sometimes Chris could be so annoying, Jac often forgot why she still talked to him, but it was almost weird not to. Maybe it was because the boy had been hanging around since freshman year and refused to be shaken off.

"Nothing, why do you always think I want something, Jac?" He cried as if he were truly hurt by her accusatory tone. "I've simply come to wish the birthday girl a happy birthday - and maybe see if she's up for some company but that's probably not very likely since you're shagging our very own, Walter White, right?"

"If I don't want to sleep with you, it's not because I'm shagging someone else. It's because you're disgusting." Jac said pointedly.

Chris smirked. "At least I'm not as disgusting as Blake-HIV-Evans."

Jac froze, midway into reaching for another strawberry.

Another emotion that was starting to hit her like a bullet to the chest? Regret. She had been trying to suppress her true feelings about her ex boyfriend, Blake, for the last two days and now it was all coming back like a wave. The lies, the fact he was HIV-infected, the lies!

Blake had solidified her new truth to life; that it was full of liars.

He had been the soft-smiling, sarcasm-lost bellboy who'd subtly and just as gently as he'd kissed her, broke the second half of her heart. He was the boy who'd slid sunglasses over her eyes and told her they were lenses that revealed the real world, the boy who she thought knew of all the pathetic fear welling up inside of her and promised he would make it go away. The boy who'd saved her fucked up family - although it seemed now his efforts had made things worse. Only three days ago, he had confessed that, all along, he had HIV and had been infecting every rich girl he could get his hands on - including Tiff Archeval, Alabaster Prep's Senior It Girl.

However, the fact he was a boy with HIV committing murder wasn't exactly public knowledge.

"What makes you think he has HIV?" She asked wearily, wondering if Tiff Archeval was actually telling people about such a scandal.

She could feel the lenses of Rob's camera burning into the side of her face.

The red-haired Lacrosse player nonchalantly shrugged. "I heard it from her boytoy, Devon Yang. Tiff Archeval got HIV from that bellboy peasant so they're getting married since they can't have anyone else. It's the hottest trend in the Rumor Mill right now, Jac," He leaned closer to her paralyzed form then. "And you know what question everyone will be asking once they're sober tomorrow morning?"

Jac felt herself stiffen, yet another emotion rushing into her like a mighty wind; anxiety.

She had been so preoccupied with hating Blake for what he'd done that she hadn't taken a step back and looked at the bigger picture - and the bigger picture wasn't very pretty. 'As if life doesn't suck enough,' she thought, pathetically trying to hold back another round of incoming tears.

What once felt like an empty void in her heart now felt as if there was a storm trapped inside of it, causing friction and tension in all the worst places.

"I need to get a drink." She managed, grabbing an empty glass from the table and making a move past Chris but he only continued to follow her, the camera crew on both of their heels.

"So what's the truth, Jac? Did you really sleep with the peasant? Are you infected too?"

Jac didn't answer, weaving past a group of sophomore East Prep kids making a domain around one of the champagne fountains. She held out her cup in the spewing gold fountain and watched it fill to the brim before quickly tossing it back. She wasn't empty anymore, she was incredibly full. Full with viruses that did nothing but hurt more than she wanted to let on to herself.

"Jac, you have to tell me!" Chris hissed, surprisingly quiet.

Jac let the sharp, sweet taste soothe her throat. "No, we didn't do anything," She replied back, waiting for the alcohol to calm her rapidly beating heart. "And I'm only telling you that because that rumor is terrible."

"Well, that rumor's gonna be all over the city tomorrow," Chris said, unknowingly stabbing her with the satisfaction in his voice. "You seriously have the worst luck with guys, Jac. It's honestly appalling. Sure you're not cursed?"

'Am I?' Jac shook her head to be rid of the thought, even if it was starting to hold some weight. Was she cursed? Surely that would explain why everyone who was supposed to love her kept ditching her on the side of the road as if she was a crummy hitchhiker who had been shitty company - or worse, they picked her up in their stupid red trucks and promised to give her a home where she'd feel safe only to turn out to be serial killers.

Jac was tired of trusting.

Tired of searching.

Tired of waiting for someone to realize she couldn't stand on her own when she didn't even know how.

Tired of just existing.

"I know a way to stop the rumor before it starts," Chris claimed, closing the large distance between them then.

She tsked, taking in another mouthful of champagne. "And what is that? Die? Jump off a balcony so I don't have to deal with any of this anymore because that's a great idea."

The red-haired boy's eyebrows furrowed for a moment as if he were truly perplexed and Jac almost thought someone had heard her. Someone who wasn't like Jared who could only tell her to 'go with the flow' when it clearly wasn't working out for her.

However, as always, Chris quickly proved her wrong with the next words that came out of his annoying mouth, "If you fuck me tonight, I'll be a star witness to the truth. Like your very own, living, breathing negat-"

Before he could finish, Jac threw her glass of champagne in his face, the glittering liquid marring his smug smirk and his richly colored suit, knocking the twelve million dollar crown he flaunted right off his head.

The clatter of the sturdy apparel quickly drew the attention of those near and suddenly, all eyes were on Jac, who was squeezing her glass so tight she could feel the skin of her knuckles protesting.

She wanted to smash the glass over his head - no, even better, she wanted to smash the glass over Damon's head. Or Sable's. Or Blake's. Or hell, even her mother!

Or maybe - just maybe - her own.

Jac could see a clear vision in her head; on the edge of the shining balcony of the ballroom just as Brett Richers had drunkenly done earlier, except she wouldn't be swinging on the chandelier for money. She would be-

'Empty,' she interjected her outlandish thoughts. 'You are empty. You are nothing.'

Unlike her last chant of being calm, cool, and collected, this actually worked.

Like the emptying of a spring, every emotion, every storm waging inside of her heart dissipated, leaving her hollow. Leaving her empty. Leaving her with nothing.

Who cares if anyone thought she had HIV?

Nothing truly mattered.

Forcing the half-empty glass of champagne into a shocked Todd's hands, Jac walked away, ignoring Chris who even after being doused with alcohol was still mouthing off, to everyone's amusement, about birthday tantrums.

"Now that is what I'm talking about!" Sable exclaimed giddily, clapping her hands as she hurried after Jac, Rob and the camera on her heels. "You are a star, Jac! Just a star! That was good footage! Now let's kick it up a notch! Let's get wild!"

Instead of ignoring her, Jac stopped in her tracks, turning around with the most widest of pearly, white smiles. "You want me to get wild?"

 "Yes, yes, yes! Wild, sugar, we need wild!"Sable nodded eagerly, clearly unbeknownst to what exactly she was agreeing to.

In that moment, Jac decided she was done with caring. Done with forcing her emptiness. She was going to have as much fun and turmoil as possible. Until she was as devoid of life as the dead trees that took form in hundred dollar bills. Until she was completely and undeniably empty.

"Then let's get wild."

---------------

A/N: The last part is gonna be really hard to write as it deals with some pretty serious topics (even though this one did too :p)

Thoughts are welcome. What do you guys think of Brett?  Jac? I honestly had a sob story as to why he was addicted but then halfway through realized that Brett's a kid fucked up by the social norms of partying. Basically, he didn't start doing drugs because his life sucks. More like vice versa.

Thank you so much for reading & God bless! <3