Late Night Party

As an introvert, I typically don’t go to parties, and when I do, I hug a wall or find a nice place to sit and relax. On this particularly chilly winter night, my friends invited me to a party of theirs, and because I haven’t a single confrontational bone in my body, I accepted the invitation.

While it was nice to see some familiar faces, my social battery drained very quickly. I humored my friends and held some conversations, but after that I found a couch to sit on and took my seat. I sat next to another quiet person who seemed equally uninterested in the party as I was. We both watched the people in the room, drunk and stupid. It’s honestly amazing how any of them had survived to be this old.

By the time midnight came around, I was tired of the party. While I could partially entertain myself by watching others be stupid, eventually even that became boring. Not to mention the pain in my stomach that had been growing for a while. I didn’t know if I had drank something poor or eaten something rancid, but my stomach was not happy. With the extreme boredom and pain in my stomach, I decided it was time to leave.

I tried to find my friends at first to tell them I was heading out, but they were all beyond wasted and having their own flings. I found one of them talking to a guy at the punch table, and while I did manage to wave her down, she quickly shifted her attention back to the guy. Feeling utterly unwanted was even more of an incentive to leave, and so I did.

I only lived about a mile away, and since I had walked there I decided I might as well walk back. I tried to enjoy the cold as much as I could, but the stinging in my ears and cheeks told me it was time to put on my jacket properly. I reached down to my waist, where I had tied my jacket upon arriving at the party, but it wasn’t there. It must have slipped off of my waist on the couch.

As I stopped to turn around and head back for my jacket, I realized I wasn’t alone. Footsteps were approaching me, rapidly. I took a slight glance over my shoulder and saw the guy who was next to me on the couch. He had his hood up and his hands in his pockets, but he was walking at me very quickly. I didn’t want to go anywhere near him, and so I decided to tough it out through the cold and continue my, now rapid, walk home.

I had never seen the guy around my neighborhood, so I knew he didn’t live near me. Although I was nearly jogging to keep away from him, it seemed like he held my pace and didn’t let it go. I held my jog as long as I could, but the pain in my stomach worsened the longer I went for. I needed to slow back down to a walk.

He was gaining on me, and it was starting to snow. I looked back at him once again since his footsteps weren’t getting any quieter, and as soon as I met his eye he started running at me. I had no choice. The pain in my stomach was worsening, but I could either or let myself get caught by the man behind me. I ran and I ran, and I think I was keeping away from him… then I tripped.

I was on the sidewalk, my stomach practically ripping itself apart, my ankle throbbing in pain from the fall, yet my pursuer kept running my way. As he gets closer he throws something into a bush but keeps running at me. I try to stand to defend myself, but I can’t get off of my knees. I put my arms up in hopes of guarding myself, but he ran right past me. I watch him in shock as he keeps on running. He wasn’t after me after all, but I wanted to know what he threw out.

I slowly managed to get myself onto my feet and limp over to the bush. Taking a glance at the bush nothing immediately jumped out at me, and then I saw it. A switchblade, covered in blood. My blood. I look down at my stomach and finally realize why my stomach had been hurting. There were several switchblade shaped holes in my shirt, with several stab wounds in my abdomen. It was then that I realized, while looking at my shirt, my stomach, that I was transparent.