This is where it always starts.

I look into the neon mirror in front of me and undo my tight bun. I don't have control over myself. I watch as dark brown curls cascade down either side of my face. I ruffle my hair and smile mischeviously into the mirror.

"Pfft I look so silly..." I murmur lightheartedly to myself.

But it doesn't matter. Tonight is the time to let go. I've been buried under so much school work, I deserve to relax tonight. I open my closet and flip through about a dozen hangers.

It's like I'm watching a rerun of my life.

I fall upon a short purple camisole and a black leather jacket with studded rhinestones on it.

Better yet, I am living it.

I pull up some high waisted black pants and grab a pair of black ankle length boots.

Next, I run to the mirror and apply some heavy purple eye shadow. This is to hide my age in case anyone asks later on. After adding mascara, I roll dark red lipstick over my full heart shaped lips.

It feels like every choice is new; like every chain of event is happening for the first time.

"Not bad," I smile, tugging my leather jacket over my shoulders.

Thump!

My heart nearly leaps out my throat when I hear something hit against my window. I whirl around and lift it open to see my friend Sloane standing a story below in my front yard.

"Hurry up, ya slowpoke!"

"I'm coming I'm coming!" I shush her. "Don't throw any more rocks at my window or I'll throw one back at your dad's limo, ya hear?"

"Don't you dare, Wilson!!" Sloane lifts a finger at me in her best intimidation imitation.

I chuckle to myself thinking even some light wind could knock her over. "Haha Im joking! Let me just get one more thing..."

***

"What took you so long?" Joel Larson leans over Sloane to look at me and chews his gum loudly. Sloane shoves him away playfully and laughs.

"I had to get my hair bow, you know I can't leave without it, Joel." I study my reflection in the tinted window beside me as I adjust some curls.

"Oh Rain! You and your hair bow," Sloane reaches up and squeezes it. Now it's my turn to shove someone away and stick my tongue out at them.

"Hey!" I chuckle. "It's my good luck charm."

"Ah that's right that's right." Joel leans back in his cushiony seat next to us in the limo and crosses his tan arms over his narrow chest.

"We all need a bit of good luck every now and then," He reaches over his white camisole and gently holds his gold cross. Licking his lips and placing his hands over his dark ripped jeans, he stomps his heavy combat boots and hops off the seat. "Well! This baby chula isn't gonna drive itself is it? Get comfortable girls, because we're going to motor outta here!"

I watch the back of his head as he exits the side of the limo, careful not to crush his sleek dark brown Mohawk against the ceiling.

Meanwhile next to me, Sloane is nodding her head to the soft stereo music. Her straight blonde hair falls down to her shoulders. She's wearing a black bustier, a poofy bright pink skirt with black lace up boots and distressed tights.

"It's been a while since we've gone to Skull Banger hasn't it?" Sloane props an elbow on the top of the seat and rests her head on her fist, her electric blue eyes intense beneath her black mascara and smudged eye shadow. "What time do you wanna get dropped off home?"

I relax and lean back against the seat, feeling the vibrations of the moving limo around me. "It's 11 right now, and I doubt my mom will wake up soon. Let's try to get back by 3 am at the latest."

"Mm you got it Wilson. We wouldn't want Monster Mama to come hunting us all down after she kills you!"

"Ha! That's if she doesn't get a heart attack first."

"It doesn't matter. We all know that woman would chase you from the grave."

"I just want to be a normal teenager!" Motioning to the space around us, I protest, "I mean, your dad doesn't care that you're going out in the middle of the night!"

"Hey, he doesn't know that I'm taking his limo. And it's not that he's ok with me going out at night, it's just that he simply does not care to know that I'm out." Sloane rolls her eyes and I can tell it's time to change the subject.

I reach for her slender hands and hold them in mine. "Hey, to hell with our parents. Tonight we're here to have fun, you got that?"

"Hell yeah!" Sloane laughs and whoops. "Those baddies better watch out, we're busting out some wicked dance moves tonight!"

***

After parking the limo in a sketchy looking street among some other cars, the three of us get off and begin walking. The lights in the houses around us are all off. We can assume they were abandoned long ago due to the shattered glass, graffiti, and boarded up windows that decorated them.

The ground beneath us vibrates with the heart of loud music, and loose laughter echoes through the streets. Ahead of us is a couple; a girl with short curly bleach blonde hair wearing fishnet stockings hangs onto the arm of a pale skinned guy with a spiky black mullet.

We follow them around the corner to a ramp that goes down a neon alley. Suspended fluorescent ceiling lights in bright red, green, and purple hang above us. Posters, tag stickers, and abstract graffiti cover the black walls on either side of us.

The alley becomes more crowded the deeper we go, with more people in Mohawks, chains, chokers, and punk get ups hanging out along the walls. Most are too focused on their liquor, their lovers' lips, or the smoke coming out of their cigarettes to notice three passerby's. Still, some side eye us a mix of curiosity and a look I'd learned to distinguish between murderous and straight up leering.

Up ahead, a neon sign with fluorescent lights shaped to say "SKULL BANGER" glows in purple. We push past the crowd of moving bodies and link elbows with me in the middle.

A shrill electric guitar thunders its presence through the immense underground nightclub. The energetic beat of the drums sync with our heartbeats, enticing them to pulse faster.

Sloane glances back at me and laughs as she leads us through the crowd, bobbing her head to the rhythm and sticking out her pierced tongue. I grin and glance back at Joel, who grins in return and throws up an enthusiastic rock n' roll sign with his fist.

A live band rocks out onstage at the front of the building, their figures almost too small to see from the distance where we are standing. It doesn't even matter how far we stand, the noise is just as reverberant and loud.

We unlink our arms and move as one soul with the tight crowd, whipping our hair and tossing our shoulders.

It's almost hypnotic, like we are all nerves operating under one haywire brain.

I bang my head and yell some lyrics, my spirit transcending into another level. I spin and a whirl of leather jackets, prickly hair of all lengths and colors, accessory spikes, fishnet shirts, and bare skin pass all around me. The smell of heavy hairspray, cheap alcohol, leather, and sweat penetrate the air I breath. And I fucking love every minute of it.

Just when I feel my eardrums about to burst, I'm pushed against Sloane who topples into Joel.

"Oh shi- are you guys ok?" Joel yells over the blaring music as he miraculously catches us and shoves us back on our feet.

"Yeah, sorry," I scoot closer to him avoid getting trampled by a slowly forming stampede.

Sloane leans back against the wall with us and nods at the crowd. "Looks like they're starting a mosh pit. You guys down?"

"Oho," Joel shakes his hands in front of him defensively. "Not after what happened last time.I had to wear a cast for THREE months. Try explaining to your parents how you ended up with a broken arm in the middle of the night."

Sloane and I laugh out loud. Joel lends his ear to a passerby and nods, glancing back as they walk away into the crowd.

"Haha, didn't you make up some crazy disorder about acting out your dreams in the middle of the night?" I roll my eyes and lift an eyebrow up at him.

Joel wipes away some smudged black eyeshadow to keep the long wing under his long painted eyebrow in place and laughs. "Cheeuh, they almost wanted to make me sleep with straps. Anyway I'll catch you gals later, I gotta go to the bathroom real quick."

"Ok see y—" I barely managed to say when he tapped my shoulder and disappeared into the crowd.

"What do you wanna do?" Sloane turns to me.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I smile sideways and give her a knowing look.

"Let's do this!" She roars.

We jump into the stampede. Everyone is running in a tight circle around the room, thrashing their arms and jerking their heads like maniacs. I stomp my feet fast and shove against the crowd, everybody tumbling left and right and back and forth.

The drums speed up. Our legs speed up. I narrowly dodge a dude doing a roundhouse kick, causing me to bump into a stranger who perhaps unintentionally jabs me in the rib. Slam dancing is definitely an "enter at your own risk" type of activity.

The rapid ring of an electric guitar and the guttural scream of a hardcore punk singer pierces through the scene.

His cry lures an ancient primordial beast from the caves of our subconscious. Our blood boils with unrestrained rage, the veins in our neck and wrists strain against our skin with every powerful and angry thrust we hit.

This is madness, this is rage. This is panic, and this is freedom.