It's 9 O’Clock and the only reason I know I am still alive is because my heart is somehow in sync with whatever the DJ spurn -God bless him, but it also feels like it's about to explode- my heart, I mean.
My mouth is dry but this isn't the time to drink. I need no distractions when I'm about to die.
“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Who is going to be the first to go?”
I force my eyes open to fix it on the cold metal that was pressed into my forehead
“You”, the voice says
“You get to choose and you should be happy. No one else gets a choice as to when they’ll dance but I'm feeling charitable”
He suddenly seems taken aback and asks, “Why this?”
I understand perfectly.
He wants to know about the perspiration clinging to every part of me. I look like I fell into a pool on my way here. It's dribbling down my chin, my back, I have no response.
I just want him to move far away but he's watching me closely trying to decide for himself how far he should push, if he should push at all, if I'm worth the trouble, if I would indeed pass out because of a simple invitation to move my body on the dance floor.
I hope my eyes are screaming, yes. I hope they're screaming loud enough. I can't believe my friends left me here.
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