"Oh, hell – no-no..." A southern bell of a voice ping-ponged the slate walls. "...ya betta move ya ass along, its MONDAY NIGHT!" Nikki rudely informed while barging into my small, oppressive room.

Which, come to think: I'm pretty sure I had locked the door, or was that more of a hallucination on my part? How the hell did she get in?

"Ya know that this particular professor has a reputation of being a stick in the mud... more like a rather large oak forever lodged in his ass..." the carpeted floor creaking even under her delicate weight as she made her way across the room by the sound of it "...he doesn't play when anyone is late to his class..." She spat. "...You should've seen how he chewed that pumpkin-patch-party haired girl from downstairs – it was not pretty for her; sure, was hilarious for us in the nosebleed section of our stadium seats."

I could hear the hangers clinging together even with a pillow smashed over my head. That must mean she's plundering through my closet, for something else to wear of mine again – no doubt.

The pleasure she can find out of another's misery is an attribute she has easily taken on as the years have passed; it certainly wasn't something that I would feel to be proud of.

"Uugghh!" I scowled when the pain in my head had emerged; as if it had been pounded on repeat on the gravel pavement, sprinkled all around the campus like one great, confusing maze.

"Nikki... why're you so remarkably great at being so earsplitting?" I muffled into the heavily scented hair product pillow.

"Dannity, when you missed the first night of class... Mista hot pants called me out and made it clear that I had needed to inform my 'roommate,' which who happens to be my 'best friend,' to carefully suggest that you only have so many excuses to not attend, until you're permanently excused." She informed while swishing back and forth through an already shadily stocked closet. "... If I have to listen to his comatose inducing monotone then it's only fair that we both not miss his, 'Ooh, so very important Mythology among Us Class' speech..." suddenly stammering off cooing after something else she had found.

It's amazing how one tiny girl could be so in your face about seemingly nothing important, and then moments later, contemplate an out-fit in one thought.

Seconds after some hmm's and awe's, which can only be explained as sounding closely to a mad scientist project gone right, she began her bark again. "Where was I – oh! I'm not giving him reason to treadmill my life a run through hell. Look what happened in high school!"

Groaning from both her nagging voice and the intensity growing in my brain. "You don't have to keep reminding me, Nik; I was there." Releasing the pillow from my death grip, I folded it beneath my forearms. "... Also, I was one of those helping hands in making us both get through that hell hole in one piece... Don't preach me on how the importance of making the grade is so important! I took your hand, guiding it along, class after class, while you were getting into all those pre-destined... end of the world... predicaments." Pushing the comforter away from me as I threw her my own past regurgitation.

Chewing my words down her slender throat, while chomping on her bottom inside lip. The thing she says she 'doesn't do,' but I can precisely pinpoint every moment she may be hogging down on that plump appendage. I take it as a means of controlling her nerves.

Which if you must know, and I will confess, is just as reoccurring as any other in habitual pattern.

"Anyway..." her favorite expression in skipping around most subjects.

"... getting on his bad side the first week of class is not an option. I can't exactly be in his target zone as I need to be as inconspicuous as a fly on the wall; not to mention I will certainly not be humiliated in front of Ben, or the rest of the class again for your supposed-late-night-drink-a-thon."

A hand intercepting for control of the room; jerking involuntarily up as simulating a crossing-guard in the middle of a traffic jam. "Whoa." My throat squeezed out in a low deadpanned roar. "You asked me to take a couple of drinks at that stupid damn party, so, you wouldn't feel like you were alone."

"I know..." She pressed on. "... But I did not ask you to get sloshed out of your gourd..." She was trying to camouflage her own hand in the matter. "... It's not my fault that your tolerance is way under toddler sippy-cup consumption." Her left hand expressing the various levels of low.

"I forget that being, 'the one' has its advantages with liquor, or any mind-altering narcotics." I retaliated.

Spoiled – with an up-tight-ass-attitude – was the middle name her mother had mistakenly forgotten to write on the birth certificate. She must've been too over-excruciated by that gigantic, ass head of Nik's, splitting her parting lips to an echoing hallway, to give it much thought.

I instantly wanted to strangle her. I was so sick of hearing that phrase – yet, how could I forget all that made her – her?

Yet, then again, that's one of the million reasons why I – for unsayable and unwittingly ways – loved her. There wasn't much that she didn't take; especially no one's bull-shit; whether that be it from hell; other dimensions; school, or human.

Catching her last words on my tongue, my usual inner ramble revved up to third gear; it was a natural effect.

Unlike Nik, I kept pretty much every dusting of emotion bundled within. A useful tool to bear when any types of war-like verbal confrontations were to show up uninvited – which were of many near nuclear disasters.

A quality, not that entirely insane – I'm not alone in this theory – but, yet, not very healthy either; but it was easier to let everyone else go on and on and tragically –more on about their lives, than to have mine blurted in sentences that never quite end.

As I'm watching Nikki, I've aloud myself to ponder away from her while converting with myself right now; the never-ending chatter doesn't count here!

Ok, yea... I admit to the too much drinking last night, but I mean come on! We are miraculously in our first year of freaking college now; survived a labyrinth of death experiences to last till the moons of old age; no hassle of parents challenging your independence to the brink of wanting to dive off a cliff, than to hear another reason why you can't waste your life on, 'your disastrous love life'; the insomnious nights pretending that you just weren't tired, but, instead gathering information of an occult to help your best gal pal; Did I mention the love life? Yea, that part counts on so many levels of exhausting, it should be written off in tragic love stories as a nasty creature to battle against, rather than to drop trou while running towards it ass first.

Sitting crossed legged on the twin bed, watching Nikki get her kicks on with my five-dollar hanging mirror.

I felt like fleeing from my thoughts; the horrible thoughts. It's not just, 'the one' that gets caught up in all the drama. The by-standers can often be over-looked of their own experiences. So, I numbed my mind for the first few days we got to this small, college town (barely, half an hour's drive from the old small town – not far enough – if you were to ask me) I had no idea who anyone was, but, they were nice enough to invite us both to the dorms annual 'freshman, Initiate.' It's a tragic title. I wonder if they knew that both words mean the same thing; I wasn't going to tell. I wanted friends.

Are a few minutes forgetting all of that such a bad thing?

"Danni, get outta that head of yours, and get to moving." She ordered. "O, and I'm borrowing this jean mini-skirt ya bought like two months ago, and never seem to wear, so I'm doing it a favor and taken it out to breathe.' Posing in the mirror again 'Possibly to make Ben drool.' She unnecessary added. "You owe me for your non-committal ass."

I threw the pillow hitting her in the back as she headed out the door. She twirled in an éclat movement. Her waves bounced around her bright smiling face. "You know I's just teasing with you boo." Quit being so damn peppy and gorgeous! "Now, you've got twenty minutes, so do something to that nappy-cow-licked hair, and it wouldn't slay you to put some decent make-up on?" I hid my inner sarcasm behind a cryptic smile, as she winked at me, closing the door behind her.

Well, it's not like I'm doing drugs, (at least I'm sure I haven't) or killed anyone. I'm just doing what every emancipated hormone-driven-eighteen-year-old would be doing, right? Right. At least I think so. I laid there contemplating lazily.

Okay Danni, get up! and let's face the prevalent Professor McSexy (or, ordinarily referred to as Blayke Brenhin the h is silent – or so I'm told.) However, that tiny bit of information should hold, any significant importance to me, I'm completely dumb founded by it, but I shall keep that alluring thought to myself.

Blayke Brenhin isn't really the teacher, or a professor for that matter, he's just a Teacher's Assistant (as so I've been informed from Nik's endless spatter of him from the day of orientation. It wasn't a mandatory thing, so, I could care less. I'd meet them all at some point.) I laid there for another sluggish minute before a yelling banshee paraded from the other side of my door. "Danni, I don't hear ya! You better be up!"

"God, she can be infinitely erratic." I murmured, flinging the cover away from me. The clock on my nightstand blazed in neon-blue - Seven-ten. I had no time to do anything. You'd've thought she would've aggravated me, perhaps, at least a good thirty minutes prior to having to leave. Nope! she can get to a demon – all out brawl, get the nasties all taken care of, get herself fixed all pretty-upped, and to the party scene of the moment, with minutes to spare. But, for her to pay attention to me, I'd have to be lying face-down in a river with some disfigured fiend; and, even then, she'd be all, 'where's my lover?' of the moment, 'Did they make it?' Usually, no! Next lover to cross my path please.

Getting up, I collapsed onto the floor with an exploding thud. The betraying comforter had seized around my ankle tightly, as I protested in high-strung anger. I couldn't shake it off, ugh. I think this movement I am performing is in some yoga masters' manual. Finally, after the battle of the knots - for what could have been mistaken as a mental break down - I managed to get myself free.

I gaped at myself in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of my bathroom door as I stood wearily. A shiatsu has a better hairdo than this chick's shit-do. Automatically swaying my long hair around my ears; my hands stapled to my hips as I just stared at my reflection. "Well, thank god, uhh... god doesn't have too much of a sense of humor; at least he let me look like a decent shell of a human girl."

All I had managed to keep on was my skimpy barely-there-black-lace panties, and plain bra to match. Apparently, I must have been very searing, as I had slinked through the short distance of the front door to my bed (here's hoping that that was why). I'm not typically a hooker-for-hire dresser.

I rushed to my exposed closet door, discarding clothes from left to right 'till I found my fav' hip-hugging blue jeans. Without even buttoning them I ran to my dresser, picking through the clutter to find a simple grey t-shirt. Finally, I found a decent one hidden in the bottom drawer with an "I don't Bite" logo on it. I stopped suddenly in a train of random thought.

Wheeling around on my heels, thinking for a moment. Pondering where the heck I had kicked my shoes off. "Oh?!?" I sighed blowing hair out of my face as I stood fully up again. I saw one charcoal slip-on, clinging to the lamp shade on the nightstand. "How in the frack did it get there?" I murmured as I made my way to it. That's a new way I haven't thought to organizing my shoes. I swiped it up frantically. "It doesn't matter... just find the other one" - talking to myself was just a form of habit, you know, like chewing food; biting nails, or a dog humping your leg. Just a natural occurrence for me.

Sliding the left shoe on; hoping in jumping jack formation (minus the acrobatic abilities) my right shoe-less foot jerked out from underneath me.

I screeched across the wooden floor with my comforter finding a way to bind itself around my ankle - again!

This wrapped fabric forcing me to fall violently with my buttokus as my landing mark. That'll teach me to have no stability with one good foot on the wooden floor. This has got to be an energy way beyond my recognition; I mean, what the fuck are the odds? I just thank god, Nikki wasn't near to see my embarrassing moment of clumsiness, but sure of enough she probably heard it. The fire-crotch headed girl, who sits in front of me in chemistry probably questioned if there was an earthquake all the way from the first floor of her apartment.

Effective way of starting the day, I mean, night.

I rushed into the bathroom, grabbing my florescent toothbrush, wetting it under the occasionally sparse water (I suppose there are too many ladies inhabiting this apartment building to keep up with demand) and forcing toothpaste onto the bristles; thrashing them against my teeth.

So here I am; detangling my hair as fast as my right hand will allow, while polishing these teeth with my left hand; standing with just the left shoe on; and wondering where the right shoe coulda walked off to.

"Danni, eight minutes," Nikki roared.

Rinsed my mouth one time under the sparse stream of water, flying to the bedroom door, flinging it open with no remorse of the crackling snap it made hitting the dry-wall. Wrapping my hair into a simple ponytail and placed a clip to secure it; all the while sorting through my books on the kitchen counter. I found "Mythology," at the bottom; grabbed a notebook; and found a pen lying nearby.

"Nik, have you seen my oth..." Stopping short when I just glance towards the front-door and saw the infamous right grey slip-on shoe lounging about on top of my old-but-yet-indestructible-black-pocketbook. Sighing automatically, as a smacking noise curiously fell out of my mouth; I walked over putting the right shoe on, while spitting out, "I can't believe where my shoes end up these days!"

"Yea, but most girls don't just fling everything that they have just everywhere!" Nik explained as she snickered at my stellar ingenuity. "Yea, I know."

"Hey, next time, just please, make me leave when you do; I don't care if you have to kick my derriere to get me home, do it! Ok?" I'm capable, at times, to plead sincerely. "Sure, boo, I gotchya back." She said garnering a incredulous smile; like the there was no indication to her doing anything of the sort. She grabbed her books, as we rushed out the door.

Fall had just snuck around the corner to hit you right smack in an unassuming eyeball. I despised that strange sensation of a blast of drabbed breeze – which patted my contacts just right to dry them out. We crossed the street while catching up with some more students heading into the main building. Squeezing my eyelids in hopes of dispersing some moisture backed-up in the tear ducts. "You look good in my jean skirt, miss." Peaking from the corner of my eye, as I adjusted a contact. I admit to being jealous, as she could wear a winged pad and make it look effortlessly fashionable. Here I am stammer on, walking in clothes that rival that of a common tom-boy.

"Stating the obvious...but thank you." her smile always big, and pretty. "You don't look too bad yourself considering that thirty minutes ago a dirty Pomeranian was your greatest competition... you were pretty much dead to the world." She conducted.

That had no cohesion of being told as a compliment; if fact, it was a down right insult – but here again, to my detriment, I keep these types of conversations tucked beneath the surface to avoid conflict. Swear, times I wonder how my brain hasn't exploded. "Thanks... I suppose... for that remarkable approval." I glared for a moment before hearing my name being yelled across the courtyard. Both of us turning as a single foot hand landed on the first step of ten or so to the doors of Arim Hall.

A coloring splash rinsed over my fair face; slowly chasing away any natural color my body harvested. If I was smart, I'd've taken a liking to this gentle voice calling after me. To anyone else this individual would've been the perfect fit for companionship; loyalty; caring & devotion. Otherwise, a life that had the possibilities of eventually garnering a means of happiness; maybe, many would revert this all down to calling it, contentment. But, we don't live in that kind of world, now do we - that was rhetorical, if by chance that missed you – we 'girls' have this undeniable knack; a worthless attention seeking whore of a talent; an unbeknownst sixth sense lingering within somewhere between the intellect of the brain, and that clamp-trap that is held between those occasionally thumperous thighs. Uh-huh, I am referring to that. Grand. Ole. Organ.

"I think Riley likes you," Nikki teased jabbing my arm with the edge of her book. I intended to make a witty remark as to how she could tell that, but I didn't respond. I couldn't. I'm sure I resembled a senseless deer staring aimlessly into on-coming lights.

***

I couldn't help but compare the past with the present now catching up to us in front of the doors of Arim Hall. The pit within my stomach grew louder and angrier and wider as Deja-vu speared my heart so incredulous.