Mutants high

003

The stiff silk of the blue tuxedo felt like a borrowed skin, one that didn't fit the frantic rhythm of my heart. My right heel drummed a hollow, relentless beat against the floor mat of the car, a physical echo of the knot tightening in my stomach. I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned a ghostly white, my eyes fixed on the front door of Piper’s house. Every instinct I had was screaming at me to put the car in reverse and disappear into the night. Danny would be at that party. Danny, and whatever grudge he was currently nursing.

A sharp tap-tap on the glass made me flinch so hard I nearly hit the horn.

I rolled the window down, and the humid night air rushed in, carrying the heavy scent of vanilla and expensive hairspray. Piper stood there, a vibrant, jagged splash of crimson against the dark suburbs. The red gown hugged her frame, partially obscured by a white fur cloak draped over one arm. Her lips, painted the color of a fresh bruise, curved into a smirk that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Come on, lover boy," she teased, her voice cutting through my nerves. She snapped her fingers in front of my face. "The party’s already started. And for the record? Blue is definitely your color."

She slid into the passenger seat, the rustle of her dress filling the small space. I didn't say a word I couldn't as the words were just stuck on my throat . My throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper. I just shifted into gear and pulled away from the curb, her silent, heavy presence pinning me to the seat.

***

**Danny’s Party – Nightfall**

The bass wasn't just music; it was a physical assault, a rhythmic bruising against my sternum. Red and blue strobes sliced the room into shivering fragments, turning the crowd into a blur of sweating skin and frantic motion. The second we crossed the threshold, Piper was gone, swept away by a tide of girls in sequins. 

I retreated to the bar, my fingers white-knuckled around a glass of something amber and bitter. 

"Still playing the wallflower?" the bartender shouted, leaning over the sticky wood with a mocking grin.

"I'm a vibe-killer," I yelled back, my voice straining against the roar. "Better for everyone if I stay right here."

He let out a short, surprised bark of a laugh. "You're a weird one, kid."

"Get me a shot of your hardest stuff." 

The voice came from my left, sharp and clear enough to pierce the heavy fog of the music. I turned. A girl had claimed the stool next to mine. She was a stark contrast to the neon chaos around us, dressed in sleek, midnight black with her ginger hair pulled into a high, punishingly tight ponytail. Freckles dusted her nose like constellations, and her eyes weren't just looking at me they were scanning me, clinical and piercing.

She offered a hand. "Paige Storm. Theatre Arts. And you?"

I took it, noting the cool firmness of her grip. "Alan. Engineering."

"Engineering," she repeated, a knowing glint in her eyes as she tucked a coppery strand of hair behind her ear. She sipped her drink, her gaze never wavering from my face. "You’re really soaking in the festivities, aren't you? How come I’ve never seen you around campus?"

"You probably haven't been looking," I said, my smile feeling lopsided and weak.

"Hard to miss a face like yours," she countered.

Bzzzt.

My phone rattled against the bar top. I expected a 'where are you' text from Piper. Instead, my stomach dropped into my shoes.

“Danny” 

“Meet me at the toilet. Now.“

I stared at the screen until the light dimmed, my jaw locking into a hard line. I didn't reply; I just shoved the phone face-down on the wood.

"What’s wrong?" Paige was suddenly leaning in, her face inches from mine. The playfulness had vanished, replaced by a strange, sharp hunger. "Are you feeling any strange sensations? Any... surges? Heat in your limbs?"

I recoiled, my brows knitting together confused as to why she was asking such a question . "What? No. Just an annoying text. Why would you ask me that?"

Paige froze. The blood rushed to her cheeks, and she pulled back as if she’d been burned. She looked down at her drink, her confidence evaporating into a forced, awkward smile. "I... I must’ve come off like a total creep. Sorry. Forget I asked. Just a theatre thing."

She said with her face red from embarrassment 

"It's fine," I muttered, though the hair on my arms was standing up. 

“Bzzzt.“

Another message. This time, it was Piper’s name on the screen.

Piper: “It’s like I don’t mean anything to you. If you don’t show up here right now...“

The phrasing was cold. It was a threat. I bolted from the stool, the chair screeching against the floorboards. I didn't look back at Paige. I didn't say goodbye to her I don’t think we are at the relationship where I need to say one to her but I could feel a stare that followed me as I rushed out . I shoved through the sweating, rhythmic crowd, my heart hammering a frantic warning against my ribs. 

I burst into the back hallway, where the music became a muffled, distant heartbeat. 

The sight hit me like a physical blow to the gut.

The red gown was a ruined heap on the floor. Piper wasn't dancing. She was bound like a criminal, arms wrenched behind her back, legs cinched tight with heavy cord. A thick strip of silver duct tape was plastered across her mouth, swallowing her screams. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her eyes wide, wet, and filled with a primal, jagged terror as the locked onto mine. 

She wasn't just waiting for me. She was the bait, and I had just walked straight into the trap. A trap set by none other than Danny Connor