It was drizzling, but Elliot was determined to work through it. He took off his glasses to rub them clean of waterdrops. Then he grabbed the crate he’d been carrying and continued to lug it toward the tremendous, abandoned warehouse his family once owned. 

Elliot was built like a twig, disrespectfully, so anyone watching him carry in the crates might have been suspicious but absolutely nobody was around. 

Click. 

Elliot placed down the last crate and opened his flip phone. An anonymous number said, “I dropped off an xtra thing at the back. It’s big, but I bet u can bring it inside.” Elliot sighed and opened the back door. This would be the last thing he needed to do before his party was all set up. Outside, as he was told, was a coffin someone thought would be funny to leave there. 

“Calm down, frickin’ Edgelords,” Elliot whispered to himself. He was new to parties, especially getting them ready, but he assumed in this stupid town where people regularly went missing, this was normal. 

He lifted the coffin and wrestled it back inside, never seeing the sign the coffin hid from him when it was leaned up against the wall. It read, in bold lettering, ‘Permanently Condemned. No Trespassing.’ 

Elliot had only just placed the coffin inside when he heard a creaking. He looked around for only a moment, but then decided he was more interested in the coffin than whatever was around him. 

Unfortunately for Elliot, he only had seconds to marvel at the red satin before he felt something sharp pierce his neck. He turned around to see a figure, but by now his vision was too blurry to recognize them. The figure pulled out a knife from Elliot’s jugular and his torn-up body fell effortlessly into the coffin. They gazed at Elliot’s body as well as their hand covered in his blood like they would admire a painting, and then they locked the coffin. 

*** 

Skye and Lara had been close friends for a couple of years now, and they tended to do as much as they could together. Today was no exception; both girls were looking forward to the upcoming rave. 

“Did you text London?” asked Skye. She swerved the car into the driveway of the abandoned warehouse, now lit up from the inside with colorful lights. Lara checked her phone’s messages. She texted Charlie, Mable, and hell even Jordan, but not London. 

“Absolutely,” she replied, as she shot London a text to ensure she wasn’t lost. Skye’s hair was fried blonde today, and Lara couldn’t tell if the bags under her eyes were from makeup or not. Lara, on the other hand, was wearing a fishnet glove on her left hand to make an unneeded fashion statement. 

Skye pulled the car into park and immediately some guys marched out of the open warehouse doors with red solo cups in their hands. A couple of them were wearing big 2002 glasses.

“Fuck,” hissed Skye. 

“What?” 

“I forgot it was New Year’s,” she replied, as they hopped out of the truck. 

“Skye, how the fuck do you forget it’s New Year’s?” Lara glared. 

“Lara, how did you remember, we were literally both coming down from xans for days.” “Hey, have any of you seen Elliot?” Skye looked over and saw Charlie tripping over himself to get to them. 

“Why?” 

“He’s missing,” replied Charlie. 

“He’s probably just ditching,” Skye gestured to the decorations openly. 

“It’s his party, Skye,” replied Lara. 

“You trusted that pussy nerd to set up a party?” Skye chuckled and walked away, muttering something about where the food was. 

“Who the fuck is Elliot?” asked Mable, as she marched out of the warehouse to join Charlie and Lara outside with the lingering drunk partygoers. She was wearing a mini-skirt and a white halter top with “That’s Hot!” written in bold lettering upon it. 

“A pussy ass bitch, that’s who,” answered Lara, “Oh my gosh, your piercing!” “You like?” smiled Mable, shooting an unnerving smile in Lara’s direction and posing a little. 

“Anyways, he’s the one who set this whole thing up,” continued Charlie. 

Inside, Skye found the food easily. To her dismay, she also found Jordan. “Oh my Gosh, Skye!” Jordan exclaimed, “Hi!” She tried to ignore her at first, getting her hands on any food she could carry quickly away from there. 

“Careful,” shouted Jordan, as Skye grabbed a brownie and rolled her eyes. She made direct eye contact with Jordan as she stuffed the brownie directly into her mouth. A few crumbs fell, but Skye made sure to catch those too, “Those are-” 

“I don’t care.” 

“If you hear from London, let me know!” shouted Jordan, as Skye squeezed through the crowd already congregating on the dance floor at the center of the warehouse. “I don’t care! Go rush some other party!” Skye shouted back. 

“Alpha Zeta Nu is-,” yelled Jordan, but she cut herself off. She sighed and grabbed another brownie, walking out the back door. 

“Don’t care,” mocked Jordan. She didn’t remember drinking anything, but she was stumbling around like she was on her sixth shot of the night. The brownie was still in her hand, every time she tried to take a bite of it she tripped and it fell. 

“You don’t care? I don’t care,” she slurred, as she picked up a rock and stepped on the brownie by accident. 

“Where even is London anyways,” she muttered, attempting to take a bite out of the rock but instead chipping her teeth on it. 

“Ow,” Jordan turned back around to check if anyone saw. In doing so she came face to face with a figure dressed in black. Maybe it was already dark out, or maybe she was just too drunk, but for whatever reason Jordan couldn’t tell who it was, “Huh?”

Jordan dropped the rock and reached for her Nokia, thinking the screen would be light enough to illuminate the stranger’s face. Pity, though, she did this, because in doing so the figure was given time to snatch the Nokia from Jordan and repeatedly bashed her over the head with it. 

Jordan let out a scream of agony and tried to push the figure away, but her attempts were useless as she possessed nowhere near enough strength. The figure needn’t even knock her over, she curled up into a ball by herself. Tears fell from her eyes as she writhed on the grass and searched for anything to grab to defend herself. 

In between her screams they dropped the Nokia to retrieve their knife from their belt. They struck the knife into Jordan’s abdomen. They did so over and over until her blood covered the killer completely. Grueling intestines dressed in red and remnants of other guts and organs hang loosely out of the mangled corpse. The rock Jordan was looking for to defend herself was in her hand the whole time. 

No one heard some loud, white, rich bitch die just outside the warehouse, everyone was distracted by a pink sports car that had just pulled up. Climbing out of it was everyone’s third least favorite person: London Marriot. 

“What?” she said, as she pursed her lips and fluffed her hair dramatically, “See something you like?” 

“No,” replied Lara, as she and a couple of others marched back inside. 

“So is anything happening at this lame-ass party, or are we all just going to look at me?” “Your license plate is falling off, London,” replied Mable, who appeared out of nowhere with her fourth cigarette of the night. 

“Guys!” 

Everyone turned to look at Charlie, who came running from inside the warehouse with a ruby-colored substance coating his hands. 

“Cool party trick,” snarked Skye. 

“You guys, I just found Jordan’s fucking body outside,” Charlie screeched, “It’s really gnarly, you have to come see.” Charlie quickly changed his demeanor, however, from being doubled over in shock to standing up with his eyebrows raised and his mouth gaping, staring directly at London. 

“Who cares?” scoffed Mable, rolling her eyes, “I hate sororities anyways.” “Where were you, London?” asked Charlie, choosing to ignore Mable’s disbelief. He watched as London scoffed, paused, and then scoffed again in case no one heard her the first time. 

“Oh, what like we’re supposed to believe Jordan died? Please, she wouldn’t do that unless we were all there to watch her die, she’s so full of herself like that,” laughed London. “Quit messing with us,” sighed Mable, even though she was glaring at London. “Okay whatever, go fuck yourselves,” replied Charlie, as he went to walk away but then retraced his steps so he could have the last word, “London, you swear you didn’t hurt Jordan?” “Who?” 

Charlie went to the hovering platform at the top of the warehouse to overlook everyone and convince himself it was methamphetamine-induced psychosis and hallucinations that made him see what remained of Jordan. Eventually, as all good things did, his peace came to an end with London joining him up there roughly seven shots in. 

Beneath them, everyone was dancing, some not even to the funky tunes, but everyone was having a good time. London too was loudly cheering them on while Charlie tried to come up with an excuse for her to leave. Her cheers and the dance moves of someone who was told by their parents they would be a star blocked out these attempts. 

“You’re too close to the edge,” said Charlie, though she still ignored it. 

Or maybe she didn’t, Charlie would never know. She turned around too fast and lost her balance, reaching for Charlie as she tumbled to the depths below. Charlie was foolish in reaching for her because after everyone glanced upon her somehow even flatter body, they looked atop to see Charlie with his arms outstretched. 

“No, it’s not what it looks like! I was trying to catch her!” 

Chaos erupted and no one heard Charlie’s shrieks between their screams and the music suddenly starting up again. The warehouse doors shut almost robotically, and no one was able to push them open. People tried to make calls for a few minutes, but no one was able to get reception. For a moment they tried to find ways to break out, but the back door was shut and locked too. 

And Charlie? 

As everyone down below was screaming about how Charlie was the killer and they needed to get away from him, it was Charlie who turned around and faced his doom. “Shouldn’t have killed her, Charlie,” sang the figure. It shocked Charlie to his core that he heard the figure speak, but it scared Charlie that he knew them. 

“I didn’t kill her,” he retorted. Maybe he shouldn’t have done drugs, not tonight, at least. Charlie hunched his shoulders and shrunk away, doing his best to hide his trembling. “Oh, I saw you push her, Charlie, I know it was you,” she cooed. A shiver flew down Charlie’s spine and he turned around again, knowing he shouldn’t have. Charlie just needed to have that last word. That was going to cost him. 

See, Charlie turned around and walked straight into the knife. 

He hadn’t killed London, but he had killed himself. 

And beneath his body people still were screaming about Charlie coming to kill them, without even realizing his blood was dropping on them like the drizzling rain. 

A couple of kids went and grabbed some more beer, chugging it like it was their last day on earth… which it probably was. Some kids were betting their last escape from the warehouse on the pizza delivery driver somehow opening the warehouse doors for them. 

“Does this mini skirt make you feel like it’s 2002?” asked Lara, who was far from sober. Skye sighed and looked around for something to eat, so Lara handed her the rest of her drink. “It is 2002.” 

Someone at the back of the warehouse shouted, “RIP to my Tamagotchi!” to which Lara replied less than earnestly. 

“RIP to London!” 

London’s body, and the coffin she landed on, had already been moved to a back room by those too drunk to remember the trauma they were experiencing in the morning. Now people were dancing all over where it was, none moving out of the space long enough to see that the floor was cracked. 

“Oh my Gosh, Lara, your skirt is so 2002,” said Mable, as she strutted towards them from the heart of the crowd, lit cigarette in between her fingers. 

“Righhhhht? Thank you!” 

“Hey do you guys want any food, I was gonna some more,” continued Mable. Skye’s smile reached her eyes and she nodded like a child who was about to get candy. She went with her. 

“Where’s Charlie?” asked someone near the food, who was far more interested in the food at the moment. She was happy to be out of there, as she was developing a headache. “There are some football players by the staircase up there, he can’t come down without getting tackled” Mable replied, grabbing a napkin to be less messy. 

“What’s that?” asked Skye, pointing to the thing in Mable’s pocket. Mable reluctantly followed her gaze to her jacket pocket. 

“I was saving this for later, but I have another in my pocket if you’d like this one,” she replied, as she pulled out a Berry Blue Kool-Aid Burst and handed it to Skye. She chugged it immediately. 

“That’s good,” she gasped, as she tossed it into a nearby trash can. 

“I know!” she replied. Then she began to talk about something she was gleefully passionate about, but Skye lost interest quickly. The lights were too bright, the room was spinning more than it had been, and the music was too loud. Even breathing the same air as all these other people trying to escape their worries in dance was exhausting. Skye was dizzy. 

“Are you okay?” 

Heartbeats, probably her own, echoed around the room and they shifted the whole ground with each pump. 

“I need to get out.” 

“Okay, Okay. I got you.” 

In blinks, Skye could tell Mable was guiding her somewhere safer. She didn’t know where, she just knew something was really, really wrong. 

“Did you eat too much?” Mable helped Skye sit down. Her limbs were too numb now for her to move them, so she was stuck in the semi-uncomfortable position she was placed in. “I-,” started Skye. Looking back on it she realized it wasn’t she had eaten too much, it was what she had eaten. 

“Did Lara roofie me?” Mable’s eyebrows narrowed and she looked a mix between perplexed and concerned. Still, she kept looking back every so often towards the door they entered through. 

“I don’t-” 

“She gave me the rest of her drink. It must’ve been spiked when I wasn’t looking.” “Okay, that’s crazy. You’ve been BFF’s forever. There’s no way you’ve been poisoned,” she replied. Skye nodded, but the burning at her lips disagreed with Mable. “Your breath smells like chemicals, what have you been eating?”

Before Skye could answer, green foam shot up from her mouth, and her headache became overbearing. Mable saw this and got up to close the door, then she sat back down next to Skye as she tried to sit up. 

“Shhhhhh, shhhhh,” whispered Mable in Skye’s ear, as she pushed Skye back down. Skye, who was literally dying, narrowed and raised her eyebrows as Mable grabbed the back of her neck tightly and muttered rhythmically, “It’s gonna be okay.” 

“Why are you being weird?” she struggled. 

“Shhhhh, you’re safe now,” Mable soothed, her voice like honey. 

“No, eww,” gagged Skye. Then, Mable pulled out a knife (where the second Kool-Aid Burst should have been) and stabbed Skye through the heart just as Lara walked in. “You!” 

Before Lara knew it, Mable lifted her knife from Skye’s chest and threw it at her. It skimmed her ear, landing on the wall. Lara turned and ran, realizing only after she should have stopped to retrieve the knife. 

She sprinted into the main room where people were blissfully wasting their lives drinking and dancing, and then she turned around and rammed herself into Mable. Mable fell backward and pushed Lara off of her, though she was surprised at how durable Lara was. 

“Missed, you fucking whore!” 

“I never said where I was aiming you god-damn slut!” fumed Mable. She got up and started hobbling toward everyone else, but Lara wasn’t done with her. She tackled the nearest (innocent) person and grabbed their beer bottle. 

“Come and get me you emo psycho bitch!” taunted Mable, as Lara marched almost rhythmically towards her. Mable retrieved her knife from her pocket and drew it. Some partygoers understood now what was happening, and cleared the way so they could wrestle. Slowly, the music stopped and people began quietly chanting; Fight! Fight! Fight! “Why won’t you fucking die!” 

Mable lunged at Lara, knocking her to the ground and lifting her knife above her head ritualistically. Mable’s eyes were bloodshot. She wasn’t fully there, Lara could see it in the way her eyes showed her own reflection. She didn’t need to overpower Mable, she just needed to dodge. 

The knife slammed down and Lara swerved. It landed in her wrist. She shrieked in pain, her eyes widening and closing, but she knew better than to remove it. She instead took the beer bottle and brought it down upon Mable’s skull. 

Lara would like to believe the crashing she heard that day was Mable’s skull, but it was likely just the sound of the bottle breaking on Mable’s head. Mable fell off of Lara and onto the ground, and when she hit the floor it crashed too. 

Wood planks all around the warehouse fell apart. Everyone, even Mable, sunk through the ground like falling sand in a merciless hourglass. They hadn’t even time to think; to scream. 

Seconds passed. 

Minutes. 

Then, a fishnet hand with a stab wound in the wrist reached over the floorboards.