Chapter 1 Death

Partying. Raves.
That was my life. Its all I had ever known. But did I ever think I would regret it? Never in a million years would I think that.
I loved the party lights that flashed and made me dizzy. The bass that vibrated my stomach and evoked the mood to dance. The hypnotic way a person could move that matched the beat beautifully. The exotic clothes and drinks only craved more. The people all dressed up with piercings and tattoos and carrying anything that glows around their body for when the lights were dimmed at eight for the rave party. Everyone just pulsing with the music that filled our ears and kissed our starved bodies that just had an increasing fetish for the vibrations and the excitement and the thrum of fun. Fun. It was all exhilarating no matter what form it was in. Working wonders and calming people, nothing was a match for the intoxicating game of parties and dancing. Nothing bad had to come with it unless you let it but even those "bad things" were sensationally overwhelming. No one stood a chance against it. It reeled you in until you had a thrilling obsession with it. So much so that one could only long for it all and implore their parents that they could return to it all. A life of fun and dancing... there was nothing unlike it.
But now, when these men in police uniforms stood in my living room, did I regret it. Grave faces pulled onto their stark faces, I suspected the worst.
My paranoid and loving mother... Her long red hair flowing and radiant in its health and her tawny eyes always watching me with such warmth. She was entirely full of love and warm sunshine and so.. paranoid and clumsy. So very clumsy. I knew her well, could even remember her tripping in the kitchen over nothing this morning while carrying eggs to me. Eggs she had burnt again. She tried at least, to help take care of me, even though she had no cooking skill in any fiber of her small body. Not even a trainer we hired a while back could teach her. She was so hopeless, but she didn't care and nor did I. The fact was, she tried. That's all that mattered.
Although she was healthy and fine before I left, I knew before they even opened their mouths what happened to her. Tears welled up in my eyes, blinding me from what lay ahead of me. Images of her and her silly self washed through me. Her words and voice, her attitude toward everything. I wouldn't see it ever again, never hear it. Of all people, why her? Why did Death take her? She was so innocent, so sweet and affectionate. Why? A bunch of Whys and Hows and so on and so forth ran around my mind, whirling and twirling, dancing their way through a maze of questions.
My ears rung as they tried to explain to me what happened three hours before, about the time I had attempted to leave. If Astra hadn't coaxed me back to the floor... But on all nights, did I have to chose this night? The one that broke my routine of only partying on Fridays and the weekends? A Thursday! I could've helped her, my mother. Kept her from choking... she was always so clumsy. But how was I supposed to know she would die?
Die. Death. Dead.
Those words vibrated through my head like some sort of bass of the party I had just left only minutes ago. Or was that just my heart beating? I couldn't tell anymore, after so many years of living off songs full of bass. My life had centered surviving off her and the parties. Without her... what was to keep me grounded? She was my mother after all. Who couldn't survive without the woman who gave birth to them?
"Annabella?" one asked, shaking me out of my fog of panic. I glanced up, scowling. Annabella. I hated that. It was such an old person name. I was about to tell them I went by Rema now, when the officer continued, "We're terribly sorry, but you must also come with us." He started to pick me up and I thrashed around, trying to stay out of his reach. I wasn't about to be an official orphan. My mother may be dead, but even a moment of weakness every now and then was healthy. I could survive without her. I could... couldn't I? "You're not coming for an orphan type of business,"he grumbled, like he could read my mind. Was that even possible? For someone to read your mind? It wasn't. Nothing like that was. Of course not.
The other one huffed, clearly frustrated with me, and stated, "You're mother was a criminal."