A Word a Day

Day Eight: Drunk

        "Are you sure about this?"

        Niamh looked up at the club's neon sign warily, rubbing her arms not from chill, but from discomfort of being at such a place. She hadn't wanted to come here; in fact, she didn't even know what the damn club was called. But somehow, Bekka had managed to lure her here. She was so weak for not being able to tell her damn rebel of a cousin no.

        Bekka just laughed, her elegant black curls bouncing against her bare back, her rich purple dress billowing with each heeled step. "Oh, liven up, Niamh!" she laughed, mock-pouting back in her casually clad cousin's direction. "It's just a club. A little bit of fun never hurt a girl."

        Pursing her lips, Niamh sighed, following the girl that was her virtual opposite into a strange place full of drugs, alcohol, sluts, and pedophiles. "I think we have different definitions of 'fun,'" she muttered, knowing very well that the honey-skinned girl could not -- or rather, would not -- hear her. They had entered the mystical place; Niamh was officially tuned out. The only option she had left was to follow Bekka and hope that nothing bad happened to them.

        "Come on!" Bekka squealed, grasping Niamh's arm tightly, proceeding to drag her toward an area ladden with high-up tables. She was promptly set down upon a backless stool, Bekka taking her place across from her with an encouraging smile. Niamh just rolled her eyes behind her glasses, averting her gaze in exasperation.

        "Hello ladies, my name is Alexander. Can I get you anything?"

        Niamh looked up at the sound of the Australian accent to see a scruffy-looking waiter who probably was still in college. Assuming, of course, that such filth had taken the initiative to take a higher education. Which, come to think of it, he probably hadn't.

        Bekka tapped her painted fingernails upon the countertop, offering him an unnervingly warm smile. "Ah, yes, we'll each have a..." And she rattled off a name Niamh never heard of before, although she had the sneaking suspision that it was some kind of alcohol.

        "Bekka," she hissed earnestly under her breath, throwing the man sidelong glances. "You know I can't; I won't. I'm underage."

        Bekka waved the stateement away as though it meant nothing. "Oh, loosen up. You'll be legal in a few months. No one here cares, I promise."

        "But I don't want to--"

        "Just do it, okay? Nothing bad will come out of a few drinks."

        Knowing Bekka's tendencies, Niamh highly doubted that, but she didn't say anything, merely shaking her head in mild frustration. Bekka just didn't understand. She had no bounds, but Niamh had goals and values; she didn't want to risk her future for a night on the town. Yet right now, she felt obligated to keep an eye on her foolish friend, even if that meant being forced to choke down a drink or two.

        But as time went on and two became three and three became four, Niamh hated herself more and more for not shutting her cousin out of her life, specially when the slut of a girl joined a boy on the floor for a very sexual dance. Disgusted, Niamh absentmindedly lifted her drink to her lips and looked away, forgetting completely about what was in her glass.

        "Excuse me, Miss, but is this seat taken?"

        Niamh swung aroung abruptly to face an abnormally tall young man with sandy blonde hair and a tanned face. Momentarily stunned by the beauty before her (wait... when did she start having an interest in beauty?), her jaw dropped, and her glass fell to the floor and shattered, the noise lost in the greater cacophony of flirting and moaning and kissing and laughing and music and....

        Niamh suddenly felt very small and very dizzy.

        Recovering, Niamh tthought to respond to the young man, unsure of why her voice was slurring in such an odd manner. "No, no. No one's sitting there."

        She thought the boy laughed, but she couldn't be one hundred percent sure. Shrugging it away, she acknowledged his prescence with a slight nod as he made himself comfortable on the stool that Bekka abandoned not too long ago.

        He was silent for a moment, but he decided to address her. "Sorry I startled you, Miss. Can I replace your drink for you?"

        Niamh shrugged, not really caring one way or the other, but the youth seemed to take the motion as one of agreement and called the waiter over, pushing another drink into her shaking hands, beaming when she accepted it.

        "What is a charming girl like you doing in a filthy place like this?"

        "Bekka," Niamh answered matter-of-factly.

        "Who?"

        "My cousin," she confirmed.

        The young man nodded, seeming to understand. "Oh. It just shocked me to see someone like you here; you're clearly not a slut or a drug dealer or a murderer or --"

        "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Niamh interrupted, voice slurring severly as she downed the liquid. "I get it, I'm a good girl." She waved the waiter back over again. "Another, please," she muttered, and within moments, another glass was set before her. The young man across from her watched her, and she suddenly felt uneasy and angry.

        "What's your name, anyway?" she asked accusingly.

        Taken off guard, the youth just looked at her for a moment, almost knocking his hand into the drink set before Niamh. She glared at him as her stuttered out a nervous answer. "My name... is Juniper. Juniper Knight."

        Niamh nodded, taking a long swig from her glass, still wary.

        "What are you doing here?" she asked him, raising an eyebrow.

        He just shrugged. "I don't know... Needed some excitement I guess." He leaned toward her, grinning like a maniac. "I just didn't expect to find something as exciting as you."

        Niamh wrinkled her nose and scowled at Juniper, causing him to jump back, eyes widening. "Oh my God, I didn't mean it like that, Niamh! I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from."

        Niamh's heart froze; even through her drowsiness and the general fogginess of each and every occurence, something stood out. "How do you know my name?" she asked calmly.

        Juniper just sat there, looking horrified as spots began to blind Niamh.

        "Juniper... How do you know my name?"

        He didn't answer, and as darkness closed in aroung her, Niamh had only one thought in her mind.

        She never should have come here.