Head first, eyes wide and a glittering smile, running straight into danger without any means of stopping. That was usually how Aspen approached most things. However, what she was feeling now was a different kind of unknown than jumping off a cliff or a plane or a roof into the gushing cold water. This. This was an unknown territory that she didn’t want, one that she had no control over because as impulsive as Aspen was, she decided what surfaces she jumped off of and what she jumped into. The youngest Marchesa girl, who so many pegged as fearless, as crazy, as daring; was afraid.
She was tucked away behind a swinging door that read Employees Only, the sign that the raven haired beauty hadn’t paused to read on her search for the exit. Her barefeet touched the lush couch cushion as she stood on it, staring at a graffiti wall. She was lost. Somewhere in the heart of Brazil. In an unknown club that she had been brought to with people she had met at the festival, and Aspen, couldn’t for the life of her, remember their names, or even their faces. The couch groaned as the brunette bounced on it lightly, lithe hand slapping the wall where a window is spray painted, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
The squeaking of the door brushing open pulls Aspen’s attention and directs it straight to the face that approaches, her red rimmed eyes glance at him over her shoulder, smiling weakly, “Hi Zayn.” Her hand touches the painted window again, trying to grab at it, “did you know this window doesn’t work? It doesn’t open.” Her voice spikes with fear as she turns fully to look at him, plopping onto the couch “Zayn, do you know what absinthe is? They told me it was just skittle vodka, but now I know I took a few shows of absinthe and well,” She swallows roughly, heavy lids blinking and slowly opening, “ I think I’m high. -- And Zayn?” She pauses, looking up at him, her green orbs beginning to fill with tears, “Don’t leave please. I can’t find the exit... I can’t find it and that window is broken...” She trails, eye slowly moving to look at the painted window again, as if it led to a magic portal.
