so there was this DJ who was like kicking off

*Rave* · 03-13-2022, 11:14 PM

An audience. An audience? Rave had an audience? There was someone else here. Someone else, but she doesn't see and doesn't hear until they're near. Too near. Too near for comfort. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, a stranger. A stranger looking at her. Rave's eyes flash open, go wide. Too wide. Too wide for comfort. Whites showing around the sides. Too piercing. Too bright. A shiver courses down her back. When did it get so cold? Was she cold? Fuck what was that feeling? Too much sensory input. Overstimulated. Understimulated? Was that right? Is that why she's cold?

A voice. It's close. Too close. Too close, too close. Rave attempts to take a step backwards. Take a step? Rave wasn't even standing. Feet. She can't find her feet beneath her. Fear. Fear came too. Fear came strong, coursed thick through her system. Spinning. Why was everything spinning? Her vision swam. Swam. Not in a good way. What was that feeling? In the back of her throat, a feeling. A feeling sort of feeling. Drool? Oh. Disoriented. Trying to stumble on feet that won't cooperate. The girl's head swung to the side, and unceremoniously, she threw up another bit of seawater. Brine and salt, salted from the inside out. Rave was salty. Pickled. In a pickle.

"Wheat," she'd tried to say who and what at the same time. Rave's head swam. Waves at her sides. Still being buffeted by the waves. By the surf. By the sea. Had the storm broke? Why did it still feel like she was being tossed about? Tossed. Thrown. The ache in her sides. Raw. Too much raw flesh. Rave is the pound of flesh. Everyone will get their pound of flesh no. Fuck. Pull your shit together. Shit? Thoughts. Shit. She spat on the sand beside her, trying to clear the debris from her mouth. Barfing seaweed and saltwater on a strange beach. Would she throw up again? Sickly sweet taste in her mouth. Head spinning. Swimming. Rave was still swimming? No. Crumpled body. Sandy beach. Raw flesh. Fuck. Where was she?

Take it easy, the words come. Easy? Rave doesn't do easy. The stranger was right in thinking, though, that the creature crumpled on the beach shouldn't be trusted. Can't be trusted. Swimming head. She's still underwater. Underwater? No, she's on the beach. Everything was spinning. Everything was swimming. Her gaze is bleary as she tries to focus on the source of the voice. A woman. A girl? Amber eyes peer back at her. Shit. They weren't alone for long. Shit. Rave tried to scramble to her feet again, but it was useless. Her heart pounded in her chest. The man that had joined them was big. Too big. Too big. Her blood ran cold. Heart pounding. Fight? Flight? Fight and flight? Flight and fight? Fight, the dice land.

But she can hardly stand. Dehydrated. Banged up. Rave's instincts said fight, but she couldn't. Flight. Flight. She could run. Stupid girl. Rave can barely stand. Aching muscles. Aching bones. Bones? Bones. Shit. No fight. No flight. Not capable of either. Fear.

The third option. Freeze. Rave freezes. Her gaze flickers between the two strangers, and finally she lay still on the sand. Still. No. She's not dead. Should she play dead? Fuck maybe she should play dead. No. Rave shouldn't be holding her breath at a time like this. That, and she's bad at it. They'd know right away that she was playing. That she was faking. The grasp of a stranger. Grasp? Surprise. A curse of surprise. A yelp. It rings out, but she goes limp. Fear. Fear. He's going to eat her. Fuck, this is how it ends. Limp. Quivering. Freezing. Freezing, save for where she's in contact with the boy. Shivering, be it in fear or because she's fucking cold. Both. What the fuck. What the fuck had she gotten herself into?

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