Kiss Me, Kill Me

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The deafening music thundered through the warehouse, drowning out the howling wind outside and the raucous crowd that had gathered in this desolate spot in Brooklyn after midnight.

Any other night, Kirsten would be going wild on the dance floor until she collapsed from exhaustion or was whisked away by an unknown guy for anonymous sex that left her feeling both exhilarated and ashamed. For months, she’d lived for these weekends, complete freedom, the chance to be someone else, but tonight she just wanted to go home.

What home? You don’t belong anywhere.

The pounding music made her feel sicker than what she was drinking. She knew better than to drink from the bar, but she’d been so thirsty, and she needed something to take the edge off. She’d built up a tolerance for most of the drugs that flowed with the spiked punch, and she always brought her own water. Maybe it was her nerves, or the fact that Jessie had sounded so strange, that set Kirsten on edge. She wasn’t even supposed to be here this weekend, but Jessie had begged her to come. And where was she, anyway?

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