How to Be Dead

My name meant Peter, but somehow Piaras had turned into pariah. It wasn’t anything like Life of Pi, people just suddenly turned dyslexic when reading my name. They didn’t laugh at me or anything like that; no one who didn’t know me well called me that. My name just tripped people up.

Sometimes people would think I was Persian, but as soon as they looked at me they got even more confused. Strangers and teachers would apologize before even trying to pronounce the name; while my friends were glued to pariah. The first few months in America it annoyed me; I was adamant that Yanks couldn’t read properly. It turned out that the Mick from Meath, Ireland was the one with the most trouble reading. Also, the English dialect is almost expected to fuck up Irish names; they’ll get us one way or another.

I grew up in Navan, a little shithole in County Meath. I was thirteen leaving Ireland and New York looked like fucking Tir na nÓg to us. We weren’t living in poverty, I mean it was the nineties; the famine was long over and Ireland had developed somewhat in sixty years. That didn’t mean that we were flourishing though. Compared to New York, Navan was what Ireland had become over three hundred years.

I was in the seventh grade, my sister Grace, in the fifth, my brother Michael, in the eighth and my brother Eamon, in ninth. Only Mike and I were in the same school, which in retrospect was pretty awful for the school. Two of the Cullen brothers in one place. I mean, in Ireland we were bad and we had severe punishment, but in America it was like we could do anything and get away with it. They thought calling our parents was scary, which I suppose, to a degree was, I mean Irish parents didn’t give a fuck about the law, they’d still beat us. But the schools couldn’t do anything, detention? That was like a free pass compared to the Irish system.

When I first heard that we were in different schools, I was shocked that there was enough room to have three classrooms let alone three different schools. I was still going to a Catholic school though; I guess they had those wherever you lived. I’d never felt like I was the superior mind in school before, but the Americans were so far behinds us that I felt gifted. For the first two weeks I was convinced I was in a school for the mentally simple. That feeling went away though; eventually I fell behind enough so that I was at the same pace as the other kids.

I hated school. At least up until senior year, it had been bullshit up until then. Girls were too easy and the education seemed worthless. Teachers were assholes and cops were dicks, basically everyone was some form of genitalia.

I hated first days, I’ve always hated first days. Somehow from the first time any of my classmates had heard the slip-up of my name, they had memorized the attendance. As soon as the ‘C’s came up it seemed that everyone else had too.

“Ashley Crossman...”

Ashley had been in my class since I came to America, we’d always been in the same classes, so naturally as soon as her name came, mine would follow.

My friend Miles looked at me, smiling like a jackass. I didn’t get why it was such a treat to hear some idiot mispronounce my name again. I guess they weren’t idiots, just ignorant.

“P—Oh… I’m sorry if I pronounce this wrong—P- Pariah? Pariah Cullen?” the woman stumbled.

I waited for the class to stop laughing to correct her, ‘it’s pronounced Pee-ras, like Cirrus.”

They always blush, even the men, “Oh, sorry. What is that? Persian?”

Even I started laughing a bit, “no, it’s Irish.”

The woman just smiled again and went back to the attendance list, making a note beside my name so she wouldn‘t get stuck in that one again. Although I don’t know how she’d forget, I mean I bet she pitied me for having such an unfortunate name.

“Dude, I don’t get why they always ask if it’s Persian, I mean you’re whiter than...toothpaste and you’ve still got the accent,” Miles said.

“I don’t get why everyone gets a kick out of it still,” I said.

“No one in America—aside from celebrities—is stupid enough to name their kid something that could be confused with pariah,” Miles explained.

“Thanks man,” I said, leaning back in my seat.

“Well at least you’re not a ginger,” Miles supplied, “then you’d be a walking Irish parody.”

“But don’t worry, you’re not as funny as Shithead,” my friend Zach joined in.

At the mention of Shithead we all started laughing. There had been an Indian girl, Shithead, but her name was pronounced Sha-theed, contrary to how it was spelled. Needless to say, every teacher fucked that up and always laughed before trying.

“Was anyone paying attention to what her name is?” Zach asked, indicating the teacher.

“She’s hot,” Miles stated.

“I’m not going to learn anything this year,” Zach agreed.

“Why single out this year Zach,” I said.

“Shut-up Pariah,” he retorted.

“Th-that was clever man,” I told him.

There was a new girl, Grace, the only reason I remembered her name was because of my sister and because she had a name plate. They looked nothing alike, for one thing she was Chinese, and had glasses; she was also a lot stockier than my sister.

I hated that she found out what my last name was. Curse my last name.

“Your last name is Cullen!” she gushed as she took the nearest seat she could to me.

That damn, lousy author had to use Cullen.

“Here we go...” Miles and Zach muttered quietly.

“Have you read Twilight? You know, you kind of look like Edward,” she continued.

I couldn’t help it; my face became pained as I anticipated the rest of the conversation. The guy was a fucking fictional character and I was being compared to him. Why girls found it necessary to introduce me to the world of Twilight as an ice-breaker was beyond me. This pathetic attempt at gothic literature had become some sort of bible and sadly, due to my last name, I was incorporated. I let out a helpless mix of a laugh and groan.

“My middle name means swan, Tien-Erh,” she told me, “you know, like Bella Swan, we’re like soul mates. Can you imagine if you were a vampire…? Well you’re already pretty pale,” she leaned in closer, I tried to get away subtly, “I won’t tell anyone.”

I don’t think I’ve ever left a Twilight conversation so fast. I ended up hitting my knee off the desk quite hard, I actually got a bruise.
Zach and Miles were laughing their asses off as I bolted from the room. It was only when I was out in the hall did I realize how funny the situation actually was. This girl I had never met before was practically planning my future with her. I waited for someone to come out and get me; I wasn’t going back in on my own free will.

It’s scary what poorly-written romance novels will do to girls; it’s corrupting. My sister almost read it, luckily something stopped her, and it might have been my Dad.

Finally Zach came out and got me.

“Shut-up Zach,” I said, anticipating his response.

“What? I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“My ass you weren’t,” I said as we walked back into the classroom.

It was a weird first day. It was a first for a few things, initially my last year of high school and the first time I wasn’t going to school with any of my siblings. Grace was a sophomore, but she was going somewhere else, a performance school. I guess it was nice for her not to have to live with us teasing her at school; we did enough of it at home.

Mike was back in Ireland doing an apprenticeship in Cork that my uncle had worked out for him. It was a means to get money for university education; the Euro was worth more than the dollar, so it was better he work there and decide which country he’d go to after.

Eamon was going to Trinity in Dublin. He’d always wanted to go there; I guess he had his head on straight enough not to get side tracked by anything else. He’d worked hard to get there, and was doing what he wanted. None of us could argue, only admire him for sticking it out. It was a good thing he didn’t revoke his citizenship, or else it would have been a hell of a lot more expensive.

It was only my mother, dad, me and Grace. It was easier in some ways, but in others it just seemed lonely. After all, we were still Irish; being in a different country didn’t change our morals or our nature. We were all about family, and now with two members out of it, things were really different.

“Mam,” I called, as I came into the house.

“Hi,” she said quickly, she was on the phone, most likely to her sister or one of my brothers.

‘Who is that’ I mouthed.

‘Mike,” she answered quickly.

“Can I talk to him?” I asked.

She nodded, “Piaras is home.” She held the phone out as she waited for me to grab it from her.

“Hey,” I said quickly, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Hey man, how was the first day?” Mike asked, he loved it just as much as everyone else.

“You really are a dick Mike,” I told him.

“Ah, don’t get angry with me, blame our ma for that one,” Mike laughed.

“It was uneventful, what time is it there?” I said, changing the direction of the conversation.

“It’s uh, it’s almost half-ten,” he answered.

“How’s Cork,” I laughed, Mike and I had always made fun of the kids from Cork that would move to Navan, for God knows what reason. They all had stupid accents, “hanging out with any Knackers?”

“Oh yeah, there’s a whole trailer park full of them here,” he said, “filthy bastards. They’re letting them into the bars here. Ireland’s gone to shit Piaras.”

It felt bad hearing that, I didn’t know what to say and I think he knew that.

“So how’s New York? Anything new?” he asked, changing the subject this time.

“Another girl tried to plan our future,” I said.

“What’d this one look like,” he asked.

“I don’t think it matters, they’re all creepy,” I told him.

“No, if they’re good-looking you can forgive them a little,” Mike informed me.

“She was totally your type Mike,” I said sarcastically.

“That bad?”

“I wasn’t really focussed on her appearance, more on the discomfort she was putting me in,” I said.

“Ah well, you’re just so irresistible, y’little fucker yeh,” he teased.

“I’ll talk to you soon Mike,” I said, “take care of yourself now. Bye.”

---------

I remember it was in the eighth grade. I had gone to a New Year’s party; I was turning fourteen in a few days, so my parents had decided to relinquish some freedom over me.

I remember whose party it was, but I didn’t keep in touch, I never did. His name was Robert Jones, and he had one hell of a party.

He was like junior high royalty, and it was because he had a brother in the twelfth grade. His brother Josh was in charge of this party, and he was destined to make his baby brother Robby the talk of the class.

I remember.

We were sitting in Josh’s room. It was dark. The only light in the room was his blue and green lava-lamp. I think there were three people in there; me, Robby and Josh.

They were both quiet, but neither of them stopped smiling, it was like something out of a sci-fi movie. The weird blue light, the perpetually creepy smile and the uneasiness.

I wasn’t scared, just weirded-out. As far as I knew, normal people didn’t do this at parties.
But then I realized what was going on.

“Just have him do this…and maybe this,” Josh whispered, “yeah, fourteen year-old kids love that shit.”

Josh shoved something into Robby’s hands, then left the room with the same, deranged smile.

I wonder if Robby knew this would happen.

----

I always found the first month of school to go by so quickly. Maybe because I spent most of it oblivious, but none of the other months seemed to pass with the same speed as September. Either way, it was gone before I was fully aware of it.

Another September slipped away.

It was early October and I was in the middle of skipping an English class. Shakespeare was a bit too dry for me. My mother and sister gushed about the excellence of Shakespearean writing, but I guess it was wasted on me. I found it like senseless rambling. I was more into P.H. Pearse.

I asked to go to the bathroom, which is where I went but I didn’t need to go. It was New York, smoking in the bathrooms was banned, but those were just words.

I didn’t bother to lock the door or take any precautions or really take into account anything I was doing. I just took out the joint, and lit it up. This was the east-coast; therefore I liked my chronic east coast. And I’d been that way from the first time I’d had any.

I opened a window; it was warm outside, even though it was October. I took a long drag and blew the smoke out the window. Someone walked in just as I was taking another drag; it was a sophomore.

The kid looked terrified; clearly he was not used to drugs. I nodded to him; he swallowed hard and pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Hi,” he said quickly before going into a stall.

I laughed lightly, as I finished the joint. I didn’t really care that I smelled of it, I just washed my hands in the crumbling sink and left the kid to soak in the last of my essence.

As I walked back to class I took a detour to the cafeteria and popped some E.

When I finally came back to class the teacher was pissed, naturally. I earned myself a detention, which I didn’t go to.

“Yo, Pariah, what are you doing tonight?” Zach asked me after class.

I shrugged, “no plans yet.”

“You up for a rave?”

I thought about it for a second, “yeah.”

“Cool, Miles’s driving; we’ll swing by your place later, okay?”

I nodded quickly and left him standing in the hallway.

I’m sure they knew what was going on, they weren’t idiots. Zach and Miles were my friends, and I wasn’t exactly a puzzle, there was nothing about me that needing figuring out. I wasn’t some sort of mystery; that I had a complex personality nor was I some kind of enigma. However, with this, they seemed indecisive, almost like they didn’t want to ask me. They weren’t afraid or anything like that, I mean they were exposed to something all the time. They were going to a fucking rave; they were not apposed to things like this. They just weren’t as experienced as I was; while they were Ravers or Potheads I was something different. Something very different.

---------------

When I got home I was hungry, and thankfully my mom thought it was just a part of growing. Her mind would never even gravitate slightly to what the real reason was. Not her boys, never one of Deirdre’s kids, she’d raised us better than that.
I don’t remember what I ate, I just did it. I remembered it tasting good and not very healthy for me, but I know I didn’t care. It was food, I wasn’t picky.

I still ate with my family though; I always had time for more food. I always found it funny when we ate together because my parents would lecture Grace about not eating, while I was. Oh, what they would do if they found out about me.
After dinner, I told my parents I was going out late so I wanted to shower.

I locked the door and opened the medicine cabinet, taking the bottle off the shelf; I put two pills onto a sheet of toilet paper. For some reason, my mom had bought a mortar and pestle, which always came in handy for me. I put the two pills in and ground them up until they were a good consistency, then dumped the powder onto the edge of the sink. Quickly, I arranged the lump into three lines.

Miles and Zach came by at around half-nine; I took another hit of E just as I left the house. I told my mom I was going to a concert, which I suppose isn’t directly lying to her. I mean there was going to be blaring music.

The place wasn’t far away, but it wasn’t in a good area. Funny how drastically things could change within a fifteen minute radius. It was in someone’s basement, obviously, I mean even though raves weren’t hush-hush anymore; they still weren’t quite like a normal party or that legal. I guess that’s why they have their own little sub-genre. I’d been on the rave scene for a good four years, so naturally I was not surprised by this one.

The only lights were flashing neon strobes that would either make you hallucinate or have a seizure. I saw someone have a fit once, I started laughing. It probably helped that I was on several things, but it was a good highlight to my raving career.

This one was nothing special, same crowd, same music, same shit.

There were black lights, which made it a bit more interesting, in terms of ambience. Everyone was glowing; blue or red skin, phosphorescent teeth, and vibrant coloured pants. People danced around with glow-sticks, and candy jewellery, creating this congested mob of incredibly happy people. There was a steady beat throbbing in the background, with a monotonous high-pitched melody draped over the bass line. That or some overly sped-up remix of a slow song. Or possibly Indian music, that shit was ridiculous.
I wasn’t a fan of raver music, it was happy and all, but it was all the same. While there may have been different keys and composition, they were essentially the same. There wasn’t any chance of you going to a rave and not being able to dance around like an idiot.

At some point you would think you recognized every song.

When I first started doing this, I was surprised at the popularity of it. I always thought it was so underground, but I’ve come to realize that while they may be physically underground, most of the time, they were pretty mainstream.


There were a lot of girls, and none of them were ugly, but none of them were interesting. Although, I might have been a bit biased when I was coming to these conclusions. Plus, with raves, you could never be sure if you were getting the person’s real name. They weren’t the best place to find a soul mate.

I guess it was a good thing I wasn’t looking for one.

My juice had kicked in, and I was tripping balls. I walked onto the dance floor with Zach and Miles beside me, grinning like a jackass.
They had just finished popping their pills, and they had to wait until it kicked in. I let out a maniacal cackle at their expense and floated away. I imagine I must have come across as mildly retarded at that point. I looked around the place, eager to start moving, it was in full swing. People were already hitting the wall, obviously noobs, didn’t know how to pace themselves. I, however, was already feeling the wonderful effects of chemicals. I used to get scared when I had too much of a reaction, but that stopped after the second year.

I ended up losing Zach and Miles. I moved through the crowd, in no particular direction, a bit bored with the atmosphere but very content in mood. It felt like I was moving through water, the music was still just as loud, but it had become somewhat muted in my mind as I bounced around in time with it. I was surprised that I was so, perpetually amused with all the glow-sticks and flashing colours. I guess I had taken a stronger dosage tonight.

At some point I had found Zach and Miles again, they were both in good moods.

“Hey man,” Zach yelled, obviously trying to be heard over the music.

I waved, “wanna smoke?”

Zach looked at Miles, who shook his head.

“Nah man, pot makes you mellow, I need to be hyper,” Zach explained.

I shrugged, ‘whatever.”

I made my way to one of the exits, or something that resembled one. If it wasn’t, I made it one. Within a few minutes I was outside, the fall air was fresh and cool; a great contrast from the sweaty basement. I felt a little numb; somewhat detached from myself, clearly my dosage had been quite effective. The fact that my legs felt like jell-O amused me and scared me a little. For a good few minutes I was convinced I was turning into the Kool-Aid man. I decided to embrace the idea that I was becoming a cartoon, but then I realized I was still a human because I fell down, and I did feel that.

The sudden change from blaring, nagging music to silence had made me feel deaf. I thought I was momentarily. Thankfully I began to hear the muted music pulsing in the background again.

After I had grasped what was going on somewhat, I made my way to wherever I saw light. I needed to calm myself down; there was no way I could get home like this. I ended up getting to the front entrance of the building. I wasn’t really sure what it was, I was too fucked to get a grasp on anything of that size. The only things I was aware of were the fact I was outside, I was ridiculously high and I wanted to dance.

I ended up making a show of myself as I flailed around outside to the dimmed music. Since I was so gone, it didn’t register how bad I looked, I was having a great time. Eventually I stopped, because I did want to smoke.

I took a joint out of my wallet and lit it quickly. I took a long drag; I could feel it relaxing me almost instantly. It was miraculous how I still had good reactions, considering how much I had done.

That’s when I saw her; my desire to dance was quickly replaced by the desire to have sex. It probably helped that I was hallucinating slightly, but she was gorgeous. She probably wouldn’t have noticed me if I hadn’t started laughing when she tripped in her white pumps.

She turned to look at who was laughing at her, I knew immediately I hadn’t seen her at a rave before. I also knew she wasn’t high, in any way, which made her tripping even funnier.
I made a feeble attempt to hide by shielding my face with my hands and crouching down a little.
For a second I was worried she might do something to me, like kick me in the nuts, but I think that was just my paranoia. I knew I was safe when I saw her wobbling, on those stilts, over to me. Anyone who is that pathetic in heels didn’t strike me as threatening.

I watched her with deep intrigue, she was the most interesting creature I had seen in a long time, not only because I was high out of my mind. She possessed this intriguing quality that I knew I wouldn’t be able to describe, even if I was sober.

Finally she got over to me, I didn’t say anything. I was happy just looking at her, almost afraid that her voice might ruin her easily-established perfection.

“Was that funny?” she asked.

I was wrong, her voice was like music, very good music; she was Irish; very Irish.
I nodded, “sure was darlin’.”

I took another drag of my joint, then offered it to her.

I saw a smile touch her features after she heard me speak, “thanks,” she said, taking the joint.

She took one of the sexiest drags I had ever seen; however I didn’t really have a lot to compare it to. I didn’t know a lot of girls that smoked anything.

“How long you been here?” she asked, she breathed out the smoke and handed me back the joint.

“A while,” I answered, too lazy to think about the actual answer, “wha’ about you?”

“Two months,” she answered. Clearly she was far more sober than I was, considering she was able to come up with an answer within seconds of being asked.

“I’m Piaras,” I said giving her the joint again, forgetting the last thing she had said.

“Naimh,” she answered, taking another drag.

She coughed for about a minute, and handed me the joint. I laughed again.

“How long did it take you to get used to the name being fucked up?” I asked.

She raised an eye-brow, “I’m still working on that.”

She took another toke and began coughing again.

“You’re not very good at this,” I told her, as she wiped tears from her eyes, careful not to smear her make-up.

She didn’t say anything, she just watched me finish the roach.

“Where you from?” I asked breathing out the smoke.

“Clare,” she said. It made sense, her accent was nice and understandable, but then again every sound was starting to appeal to me right now.

“Meath,” I responded, even though she didn‘t ask. I figured it was coming.

She started laughing a little, “that explains a lot.”

“What are you implying?” I asked.

She only smiled; she wasn’t a girl of a lot of words. I didn’t mind, I was happy to resume staring at her in her little silver dress. She was not a raver at all or else she would know never to wear something like that.

“What time is it?” she asked.

I looked down at my left wrist. The face of the clock was there and easy to read, but I couldn’t figure out what it said. So I held up my arm to her face so she could read it for herself.

She steadied my arm with her icy hands, I shivered, “why are your hands so cold? We’re not in Ireland anymore.”

I took my arm back, and tried to warm up my forearm where she had touched it.

“I have poor blood circulation,” she answered me, “you should be used to that.”

“I don’t have poor blood circulation, maybe you should do a few laps, go on, there y’ go. Go run around like a horse, click your heels,” I yelled a little frantically.

We both gradually started laughing, until we were in hysterics. I was laughing because I tried picturing her clicking her heels in those shoes. The girl could barely stand, let alone click her heels. I didn’t know why she was laughing; I didn’t really give a fuck either.
Her laugh was silent.

Finally, when she got her breath back she managed to say, “I wasn’t talking about your circulation, you stupid fuck.”

I only started laughing harder, which made her laugh more and she tried to push me, but it was so pathetic I started laughing more. She ended up grabbing the collar of my shirt for balance.

I’d become a wall.

Pot has this magical ability to ease all the tension in any situation.

“What the hell are we talking about?” I asked finally.

She stopped laughing, and became serious as she appeared to go over things in her head. I watched her, not realizing how creepy I looked. Once again she began laughing; it was light so there was sound being produced. It was contagious; I started to smile as soon as she made a sound.

“Wh…what--what’s so funny?” I asked, laughter edging my breathy words.

She started laughing harder when she looked at me, thus she couldn’t answer. Walking past me she took a seat on the front steps of the house. I followed and sat down so quickly I almost sat on her hand. Luckily she still had some of her reflexes, and snatched her hand up before it was squashed.

“You almost sat on me,” she stated, in a high voice. Hah, no pun intended.

“No.” I said.

“Yes, yes you did,” she assured me.

I laughed, and then I confirmed, “no, I almost sat on your hand.”

“And what would I have done then?” she asked, holding onto her hand.

“Had a hand under my arse,” I stated, after actually thinking about her question.

She was quiet as she contemplated my response, then she tilted her head this way and that, “yeah I guess you’re right.”

I started laughing again.

“But, it didn’t happen, so now you just have a hand,” I said without really thinking about it.

I could tell she was thinking the same thing I was by her expression.

“Yeah, I didn’t really think about that, it just came out,” I explained.

She started laughing again, more softly though.

“You are quite the fucking light-weight,” I told her as she laughed.

She flipped her head up immediately, cutting off her fit of giggles, “I know! And I’m the same with booze, I’ve been able to drink in Ireland since I was eighteen, but here, I’m carded everywhere. It’s all because I’m a redhead; everyone wants to get the ginger kids. It’s fucking stupid, is what that is.”

I was laughing again, fully in stitches. That had been a relevant comment turned into a random rant.

“Wait, you’re twenty-one?” I asked as I pieced the statement together.

She looked at me without laughing, “yeah, how old y’ think I was?”

“At most eighteen,” I told her.

Her eyes widened a little, but her expression softened into a smile, “thanks.”

“Aren’t you going to ask how old I am?” I asked.

“How old are you?” she asked.

I felt a bit stupid now, “seventeen.”

“Won’t your ma be givin’ out to you for smokin’?” Naimh asked.

“She would if she knew,” I shrugged, leaning back on the steps.

“And you think she’ll miss this?” she asked, regarding my current state.

“I’ve been worse,” I said as I began drawing on her bare back with my finger.

She jumped a little at the sensation of warmth on her skin, ‘what are you doing?”

“Your skin is soft,” I said, not really listening, then as an after thought, “and really white.”

“That’s odd,” she laughed.

“I wonder if I can count the freckles, or make constellations with them, that’s always fun. I used to do that to my uncle… except I’d do it when he was sleeping and then when he woke up he’d go mad, but he couldn’t figure out which one of us it was. I always blamed my sister,” I rambled.

Naimh started laughing again, “no, your mam won’t have the slightest idea.”

“I’ll let it wear off before I go home…” I told her.

“What are you on right now, cause I know it’s more than cannabis,” she asked.

“Uh… bit of this, and stuff,” I answered.

She turned and looked at me flatly, “oh.”

I gave her a lop-sided grin, “do you go to these things a lot?”

“What things?” she asked.

“Raves,” I said.

She shook her head, “not really, why? Is it obvious?”

I was very mellow now, I nodded, “are you cold?”

“A little,” she said, “let’s go in.”

I squirmed, and whined a little, “but it’s loud in there, and it’s nice and quiet out here…”

“Oh get up y’ baby,” she ordered, pulling on my arm.

“No,” I protested, covering my face like a child.

“Get up, it’s cold,” she urged.

I forced my eyes to widen, “alright! I’m up.”

I managed to get up and walk with her to the side entrance of the house. The rave was still at its full potential, I think I saw Zach and Miles, but I was too focussed on Naimh leading through the sea of people to really care.

I didn’t have a clue where I was going; I just followed the golden-red hair that floated before me. Everything felt so weird, so surreal I didn’t have a good perception on anything; I was just enjoying the feeling of moving like this. Eventually we made it to the other side of the basement. Naimh opened the connecting door and pulled me through with her.

It was pitch black, I couldn’t see anything and I was nervous that I would either step on her feet or into a bottomless pit. Considering how influenced I was, I didn’t have the sense to highly doubt the latter. She led me to what I was pretty sure was a staircase.

“Ah shit, stairs?” I asked, “How the hell do you know your way around this well?”

I still couldn’t see her, and I began to doubt she was even there until I felt her icy fingers on my hands. I knew she was in close proximity, because her breathing was louder and her presence was more apparent.

I forgot about my previous question. I had a whole new mindset.

“Naimh…” I breathed; I had exactly one thing on my mind at this point.

She brought my hands up to her face and pressed them against her cheeks. Contrary to her hands, her face was warm and soft, she was looking up at me. I ran my thumbs along the soft contours of her face; my eyes were adjusting very slightly the absolute darkness. I was able to make out her face very faintly.

I wanted to see her a little bit more; I wanted to be able to see the rest of her. My mind was drifting all over the place, as my hands stayed in the one spot. Suddenly my focus switched from her face to her hands. Her icy fingers were creeping under my shirt and at that point I didn’t really care where we were, I wanted to fuck her. Every part of my brain had shut down except for my sex- drive, which at this particular moment was in overdrive. Frantically I pulled off my shirt.

“Piaras…” she whispered, “what are you doing?”

“I don’t know…” I answered honestly, pulling her closer to me; I could feel her hands pushing against my stomach.

“My hands are cold…” she whispered.

I smiled cynically, warming her up was just one of the things that I could do, and it wouldn’t be left to only that. Whether she wanted me to do anything or not hadn’t really crossed my mind, but I was confident that nothing would be stopping me from getting exactly what I wanted. I bowed my head down to the crook of her neck, she smelled really good. I didn’t know what it was, but I didn’t care, most girls smelled good, regardless of whether you were intoxicated or not. I wanted to eat her. It was like the perfect scent, and something so edible would have to be worn by her.

It was like this hunger that I couldn’t satisfy with anything else. I was ready to do awful things to her, I wanted her so badly. I ran my mouth along her collar bone and up her neck to her ear. She tilted her head slightly, melting into me more. I smiled again. It was so easy, I’d definitely won her over, but that wasn’t really concerning me. She moved her hands from my stomach and wove them around my neck. I moved to her mouth easily and kissed her harshly, it was satisfying being in this dominating position. I had control over this and her.
She was so soft; her skin, her hair, her lips and every other plane of her body I had touched so far. I had my hand on the zipper of her dress, ready to undo it. I had wanted to make things clear though, this was not going to be something fuelled by real emotions, there wasn’t anything behind this. I wanted to fuck her and that was it. I wanted to have that satisfaction, of making her mine, even if it wasn’t for the first time. This would be rough sex, none of this making love shit.

A random pause of morality flashed through me, and I pulled away from her slightly.

She pressed her lips to my jaw, and moved lower on my neck. I was willing to bet that there would be multiple hickeys on my neck after tonight.

“Can I ask you a question?” I breathed, pulling down the zipper.

She let out a very soft breath of consent.

Instead of asking her if this was okay, I decided to go with my roots, “are you a Catholic?”

This clearly threw her off, “I’m not practicing, why?”

“Good,” I answered simply, pulling the dress down.

-----------------------

I didn’t know where I was but that wasn’t because I had forgotten, I just hadn’t been able to see anything.

I didn’t know what time it was, I was disoriented and I felt like shit. My throat was dry and my body was so heavy. There were sharp pains all over, my muscles were tense and my joints ached. I managed to lift my arm above me so I could check the time. It was 5:30 AM. I squeezed my eyes shut trying to figure out what to do.
We weren’t on the stairs anymore, but we hadn’t moved far away from them. There was no doubt that they were the reason why I was in pain. The floor was cold, and I was sure it was dirty.
Reluctantly, I forced my body to turn over. There she was, sleeping; fully sleeping and dead to the world. She was lying on her stomach with her arms tucked in under her chest; she didn’t look that comfortable either.

I knew she wouldn’t want to be woken up, but I wanted to see what she would do.

I poked her a few times before receiving a reaction. She grumbled and opened her eyes slightly.

“What?” she whispered.

She was too tired to be angry, but her face showed clear disdain for me.

“It’s 5:30,” I told her, moving closer to her.

She frowned more, “so?”

I didn’t know what to do now; she had a relatively calm reaction.

“Did you just wake me up because you were awake?” she asked.

“Sort of,” I mumbled.

“You’re a little fucker,” she grumbled turning away from me.

“Don’t be like that,” I said pulling her to me.

Her whole body was cold; I guess she really did have poor circulation.

“Nice people don’t wake other people up at 5:30 because they’re bored,” she informed me, “and for that matter, why are you not trying to fall asleep?”

I shrugged, “you’re more amusing?”

“That was terrible, don’t go into script writing,” she said.

“You’re quite unpleasant in the morning aren’t you,” I told her.

“Are you trying to make me angry?” she asked.

“I think I already did,” I said.

“I can get worse,” she said.

I decided not to push her; I didn’t want to have a row, even though she probably would have given up easily.

She fell asleep again quickly and for some time I debated whether or not to go to sleep myself. I decided to get dressed; the thought of the dirty floor against my skin was too much so I got up. I watched her adjust to the sudden change in temperature, before searching for my clothes.

After I was dressed, I put my jacket over her; she deserved a little dignity. With the dirty floor out of my mind I was able to really see where I was. It was a small hallway that was completely empty; the stairs must've lead up to the main floor. It was cold and still a little dark. The early morning let in a soft blue light, which was the only source of light there was.

I was fully awake at that point and I knew there was no way I was getting back to sleep. Although, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to sleep in this dirty little hallway. God, and to think I was so fucked that I had sex here. However, even in the midst of my disgust I knew it was good, really good.

I was sitting on the bottom step staring at Naimh. She had shallow breathing and barely moved, it was like she was dying, she looked peaceful though. I wanted to leave, but I didn't want to leave her there alone. So, as much as I knew she would hate me, I went over to wake her up again.

"Naimh," I said softly.

She groaned, "damn it, you're a persistent little fucker aren't yeh."

"Naimh, get dressed, this place is gross," I told her.

She opened her eyes slowly and said nothing as she slid her arms into my jacket. As she sat up, she completely distracted me from my thought process; her beauty hadn't faded at all and I knew I wasn't high cause I felt awful.

"What are you staring at?" she asked, her voice was soft and tired.

"You look good in leather..." I mused.

A light blush darkened her cheeks but she said nothing. I quickly shook my head, bringing myself back to reality. That was embarrassing.

After a few minutes of awkwardness I got up and turned away from her. Judging by the sound behind me I assumed she took the hint, also she was dressed when I turned back around. She was in that same little silver dress, my jacket was around her while her white shoes were gathered in her hand.

"Now what?" she asked running her free hand though her hair.

I shrugged, "let's go."

She didn't say anything more; she just followed me out the door. It lead into the main room, where the rave had been in full swing only hours ago. People were all over the place, creating a decorative maze of sleeping people from wall to wall. Some were silent and still while others performed a song and dance to their dreams. I was impressed that the place hadn't been busted. I couldn't help making comments as I weaved though the obstacle course of bodies, careful not to step on or kick anyone.
Somewhere during our quest to the exit, Naimh had slipped her hand into mine. That had been the only indication that she was still there. She was moving silently behind me until we got out.

The morning was cold and clear. It had been a long time since I'd seen this side of New York. Morning sun was different to normal sun, if that made sense. It reminded me of Ireland; even in the years that I had been away the morning was able to bring it all back to me. The air was moist and cold, the sky was a clear pale blue and everything smelled of the earth. There was a clarity and reassurance in the morning, like things were safe, at least for a little while.

"Reminds me of home..." Naimh mused, she didn't look at me.

"I was thinking the same thing..." I commented.

“Except Ireland smells better," she stated.

"Wouldn't be hard to smell better than New York," I said.

She didn't laugh and let go of my hand, "what are we doing?"

It was only then that I noticed we had been holding hands and we'd been out there for a good seven minutes.

She walked away from me, in her bare feet and my jacket. I felt compelled to follow her and I wasn’t completely sure that I liked her having that kind of control over me without trying. I mean it was pretty obvious when a girl was trying to wrap you around her finger and it usually worked, if she was doing it right. I’d never been so attracted to a girl that she didn’t even have to say anything for me to follow her, hell I wasn’t even intoxicated and she had this kind of power.

I felt stupid. I felt like the guys in chick-flicks where they follow one girl around, without a mind of their own. I guess this was how women felt. Suddenly I felt a little empathy.