Keep in mind, everything I update this with is a total and complete rough draft. No revising, or anything. I'm just letting you bitches see it first hand. TYVM.
And just so you know, this was inspired by a conversation between Deric North, Ramsey Hall, Joshua Kennedy, and I.
Once it's finished, I will give them all their due credit. No worries, boys. <3

"One Infinite Nothing"

by Kaleigh Cesavice.

It's black. I can't see a damned thing. Why can't I see anything? It's so dark. What the hell is going on? I realize my eyes are closed. My eyes flutter beneath their lids, searching for something...anything, to focus on. I open them, and all I can see is an array of blurred colors mixing with each other. I can't distinguish one thing from another. It's cold. I can feel my own saliva forming a pool around my mouth, on my pillow...No, on the floor. I'm on the floor? Why the fuck am I on the floor, god damn it?! I press my hands against the ground, and prop myself up, rolling onto my back, then sit up. The effort proves to be far more difficult than I had originally estimated. My muscles are so stiff. Something darts in the corner of my eye, startling me. So confused...I'm so confused. How did I get here? What HAPPENED in the three hours previous to now that I can't remember? My heart is racing. The sweat dripping off of my face and onto my chest makes my clothing cling to my skin. Annoyed, I pull my shirt away from my neck in an effort to ease my frustration. Still shaky, I stand up, nearly falling down in my attempt. After looking around, I realize that I am at the bottom of a fairly long set of old, wooden stairs. Did I fall down them? That would explain my throbbing head, and the sharp pains shooting up and down what I presume to be a broken leg. Is this what broken bones feel like? I wouldn't know. I grew up being very cautious of that sort of thing. I was always so paranoid. You never know when you're going to wake up at the bottom of a flight of stairs not knowing what the fuck happened to you. Haha. I guess maybe after this is over, I'll have a good laugh at it all.

Bzzzzzzrt. Bzzzzrt. Buzzing? What the hell is tha--Oh! My phone is vibrating. Thank god I haven't lost that. It's a text from Mark.  I read aloud, "Where are you?" "Hell if I know," I answer. Prompted by his question, I start to hobble around, looking for anything that might give me a clue of where I am on this crazy morning. I see a blue baseball cap, with a large "C" located on the front. Cubs? And is that an oh-so-familiar-looking bright yellow Zippo? Yep. There's the little orange "L" painted down the side of the obnoxious-looking thing. God damn it, I must be at Landon's place. I can't remember the last time I've been here... and for good reason, too.

I walk up the aforementioned stairs that I clearly plummeted down in the early hours of this morning. They're creaky. The second the last one quivers under my weight. Yeah, I'm definitely at Landon's. After I reach the top of the stairs, I walk out into the very open, and very dirty, kitchen area. I see a face I might have recognized had I been in better condition. She says "Wow, you were here last night? Crazy party, huh?! I didn't even see you at all! Where have you been lately, I've missed yo--" I stop listening after that. The shrill nature of her voice almost instantaneously brings old memories of who she is and why I hate her back into my mind. God damn it. Why is Samantha here? Landon and I never liked her. Come to think of it, no one really did. Maybe she puts out. Nah. I wonder how she got into the house, especially after seeing the poorly written, grammatically incorrect "NO FATTIE'S OR UGLY BICH'S!!!!" signs posted on every entry-way into the house. She never was very bright.