i. accidental strangers
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The day before Mark died, he had whispered the most important lesson I would learn in life. He had placed something wrapped in paper on the palms of my hand and pulled me close so only I could hear, "Remember that you are important. It is you who might fall and you who will have to climb. Trust in who you are, and nothing else matters."

I tried to comprehend why he was telling me that, but the next day when I found my brother's dead body at the foot of the stairs, it made sense.

Nothing else would matter, because the only one I trusted was dead.

***

I had a set number of rules I followed; one, live the life I deserved i.e. live life on the edge; two, never get attached to anything or anyone; and three, life is a time bomb, carpe diem, friends.

Thus, here I was, living by my first and third rule and partying hard. I didn't recognise anyone, neither did the crowd seem young. My head was spinning and I was too wasted to care. The music was too loud and I was dancing to a very catchy beat, enjoying myself, having the time of my life. I was drinking till I forgot my own name, not wanting to remember anything, not wanting to go home.

Who was I kidding though? I wasn't enjoying, no matter how hard I drank I still remembered everything and instead I was developing a very severe headache.

Making my way through the noisy room packed with people and blaring music, I needed time to clear my head. I walked up the stairs and stumbled into a few rooms that were occupied with couples making out, or people doing things they shouldn't be doing. Sighing, I walked up to the second floor of the house, to a much quieter room and relaxed.

I sat on the edge of the bed, bringing the beer bottle—that I had taken with me—to my lips and took a long gulp. Looking around to observe the room, I spotted very few items that would hint at whose room it was.

It was quite a specious bedroom, messed up with clothes scattered around. There were no photo frames around, no custom wallpaper, not a single artwork or posters on the walls. There was nothing, almost made me think that it was a guest room. But then again, my room looked exactly like this one, except my room had records stacked at one corner.

I hadn't bothered by switching the lights on because I was quite drunk and I knew my head would hurt even with a small amount of light. Yawning, I had almost planned on taking a small nap here when I heard footsteps and then the door of the room being opened.

I squinted at the person standing at the door and tried to think if I could recognise the face. Looked male from the silhouette, did he go to my school? He stood there for a whole minute without saying anything, maybe not expecting anyone to be here.

When he moved, I thought he was going to switch the lights on, but he folded his hands and leaned on the doorframe and asked, "Who let you in here?"

Okay, the voice confirmed he was male. I was about to answer back with a sarcastic reply when he continued, "This place is out of party zone. Move."

Not in the mood to argue with this person, I shrugged his rude attitude and tried standing, but fell right back. Embarrassing moments, but I was too drunk to be embarrassed.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his temple asking, "How drunk are you?"

"Um... If you count this one here," I lifted the beer bottle to show him, "it's my sixth, I guess." I mocked toasted to my stupid reply and gave him the best smile I could, in my state.

He grunted and I saw him put his hands in his hair in frustration. He straightened up, still standing in the door way and the light from the hallway danced inside the room with his shadow.

"Listen woman—"

"Beatrice." I cut in.

"Beatrice," he repeated, his voice sounding horse, "Just call up someone, your home or friend... or anyone and get out of here. I'm in no mood."

I tried standing again and succeeded, but not without the support the bed was giving the back of my legs. Normally I would have just left, but just to be a little snarky I folded my hands and said, "And what if I say, I don't have anyone I can call."

He ran his hands through his hair continuously swearing under his breath. I'm sure he was thinking I was a pain and nothing more, everyone thought that way, anyway. Not that I was helping in projecting myself as any better.

Suddenly his posture sulked a little and he sighed. But what he said next made me almost fall back on the bed, "Okay, I'll drop you home."

I'm sure who ever thought of me as 'pain', never offered anything good, so claiming I was surprised would be an understatement. My mouth opened and closed, debating whether to accept this offer, from a stranger nevertheless, but he didn't wait for my reply, he just turned around and walked off muttering, "Just grab your things and meet me down."

I shrugged again, didn't matter if he was a stranger; because I out of all people knew very well, that even blood relations did not stop anyone from doing anything bad.

I left the beer bottle on one of the side tables and collected my jacket from the bed. Making my way down the stairs, the music still played loud and I could feel my brain banging against my skull.

I walked out the main door and put on my jacket over my black mini dress, making my way towards the only person standing here outside. He was wearing dark jeans, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket. I wasn't sure if it was the same guy, I didn't get a good look at him in the dark, upstairs. He was casually leaning on a motorbike talking on his phone.

When he saw me making my way towards him, he cut the call and threw a helmet in my hands. I tipped my head back to look up at him because of his height. Now with the street lights, I could finally see his face and he looked a tad older than me, maybe in his early twenties. He stared at me raising an eyebrow and without another word put on his own helmet and mounted the bike and.

"Hop on. I want to get back and rest as soon as possible," he said after I still hadn't got on.

I rolled my eyes, and quickly snapped the helmet over my head. I grabbed one of his shoulders and threw my leg over the bike, sitting on it. "Just don't try drifting or any stunt like that okay. I don't mind bikes but it just... don't."

As I said this, I put my other hand on his right shoulder and shifted closer. I felt his body visibly stiffen and wondered if I should shift back again, but before I could move, he started the engine.

"Fine." He replied.

Hearing the roar of the motor, we soon took off. I subconsciously put my arms around his waist to hold my balance. My brown hair fluttered below the helmet line wildly, but I loved it. I enjoyed bike rides. They always seemed to make me feel more alive. I loved the feeling of the wind blowing around me, the feeling of adrenaline, of living on the edge. Since Mark's death, this was the only thing I could ever feel.

Too tired, I rested my head on his back, imagining him to be someone completely different. He cleared his throat and asked, "Where to?"

"Just take the straight road for now, I'll guide you." I answered.

In reply I saw him nod his head once.

When we reached a familiar lane, I whispered, "On the next right, a little further, stop at the house with the white door."

After a few more minutes the bike came to a halt and I sat up straight, looking around, still in a daze. When I heard him cough, I snapped back to reality and removed my hands from his waist. Getting off the bike, I took the helmet off and tried dusting the wrinkles off of my dress, not wanting to make eye contact with him.

He took off his own helmet and glanced at the house, his brows furrowing. I was observing him from under my lashes, awkwardly fidgeting with my fingers, and then he looked at me. I could feel his stare burning into my head, his dark eyes glistened under the streetlamp.

"Um... Thanks." I said, and then added, "For dropping me."

When he did not reply I gave an awkward laugh and said, "You can tell me your name, you know."

I don't know why I wasn't leaving already. I should have just walked away after saying a thank you. But I think the alcohol was making me say stupid things, like ask for his name. Stupid Beatrice.

"You know who they call strangers?" He asked. I was about to ask him who were 'they', when he answered his own question, giving me a look that clearly told me he thought I was stupid. "An outsider. A person you have no acquaintance to. Or a person you might just meet once in a lifetime." He shrugged looking smug. Prick.

"So, you know, I don't think there is a need for you to know my name. In fact, you should be careful with your name; accidently meeting someone and letting them know you, could be dangerous. Don't you think, Beatrice?"

What a fine mighty prick! Was he lecturing me? I threw the helmet he gave me in his hands, and he caught it smoothly. I huffed, turned around and was about to storm into the house when he said, "Goodnight accidental stranger!"

I turned back and looked at him. Accidental stranger huh? But he wasn't looking at me. He was staring at the house behind me. When his eyes made contact with mine, he looked hesitant, like he wanted to say something but then thought better of it and shook his head.

Looking ahead, he put his helmet back on, hung the one he gave me on the handle of his bike, and then he geared his bike. He drove off without looking back, and was gone just like that.

What a weird person, I thought.

I just shrugged and made my way to Luke's house— my current home.

When I got into the house, the things were like usual; beer cans were lying all over the floor, clothes scattered all around, and the house smelt the same, of alcohol, cigarettes and a vague bitter smell.

My façade fell and I was back to reality. My reality.

And there it was, the nausea. I felt a deep pang in my chest, my eyes were feeling heavy, but not of sleep and my headache returned. I chocked, almost in sobs at the way my life was right now. I wanted to scream right there and then, but I didn't know if Luke was home or not.

Funny how I had to control my emotions according to him; I almost felt like a robot.

Too tired to do anything, I just stepped into the house trying to make as little noise as possible. My footsteps echoed the empty walls. I took off my jacket and made my way upstairs to my bedroom. Lethargy took over and I had no energy to take off my shoes or wash up, so I just fell flat on the bed. I nuzzled my head into the cushions of my pillows and sobbed into it. Sick of this house and sick of myself, I kept surviving, hoping for it to end soon.

Before I knew it, I was fast asleep with tears still rolling down my face. And just like that, another day had passed.

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