Our hero stands outside a slightly rundown house. It seems more ramshackle than it otherwise should as if some unforeseen force was making it into a more structurally unstable specimen of Australian construction than it otherwise should be. However I digress, the house itself with its peeling paint and termite-ridden wood isn't the important part of this scene. That honour belongs to the gangly white teenager desperately trying to pull shoulder length blonde hair out of his face as he vomits into a weed infested flower garden.

Yes, humble beginnings I know and yet as he tries to rid himself from a growing headache caused by the thumping bass that emanates from the inside of the house he does not yet know that the fate of the world hangs on his sun-bronzed shoulders. Just watch as he braves the symptoms of an overindulgence of liquor and bravely heads back inside to face the greatest challenge of his young life, girls.

God help us all.

---

I got up, stumbling back from the decrepit flower bed taking in some steadying breaths of the cool night air. I stood on moist grass that glittered tantalizingly in the moonlight and stared at the sky and watched the wheeling of fruit bats as the took to the days harvest.

"Ah fuck fuck fuck," I muttered nervously under my breath jumping up and down in place, feeling the slight drag as the corse fabric of my jeans moved over the flesh of my legs. It was a grounding feeling that brought me back to reality. Ok, I thought, time to go and do it.

I moved briskly from the side of the house, dodging a spot of torn ground where a tree trunk had been removed, I did this by hugging the wall of the house. I felt several flakes of the off-white paint scrape away from the weather-beaten wall and turned the corner to the side of the house that faced the front porch desperately trying to brush the paint off the shoulder of my white shirt.

The old Brooksen Farm had been a hang-out for older kids since before I could remember, we kept it running with the pooling of funds from part-time jobs around town and in return, the place was the venue of many parties such as this.

The base was thumping as I jogged up the ragged old wooden steps that led to the front porch of the house, they very nearly drowned out the slight creak of the wood as it bowed under my weight. Not that I was fat by any means, I was fit, lean muscle though. I was a swimmer. It was just poor wood.

I pushed open the double doors and the music reached a new height in volume, the sound seemed to transcend into a physical force and I could feel the techno rhythm deep into my bones. I stooped slightly as I passed under the threshold and looked over the heads of the throngs of people that lined the inside of the house. "Dammit, where is she?" I muttered exasperatedly.

It was then that I saw her the cascading blackness of her hair stood out like a beacon as she stood languidly against a poorly painted wall at the divide of kitchen and living room. Eve, the subject of my affections for about 5 years, we had been in a relationship for three of them. The key word there was had. She broke up with me moments before this party began, thus the copious amounts of alcohol.

I pushed roughly through the throngs of gyrating teens. Moving steadily toward my target like a guided missile. She saw me seconds before I broke through the crowd and approached her, my feet leaving slight imprints on the thick, stained carpet.

When I had finally pushed through the protective shell of people that surrounded her and managed to gain an unobstructed view I was as mesmerised by her beauty as I was the first day we met. She had tanned skin and full, red lips framed by a shapely face and ornamented by a pair of large, dark eyes. And yet the experience was different, for when first I first looked upon her those many years ago what I took away was pure admiration and joy, now those emotions were mixed with a dangerous cocktail of longing, loss and shame.

I walked up to her stumbling slightly and saw the revulsion in her eyes as she looked at my dishevelled form. The look in her eyes hurt more than I can express. I was undeterred however and pointed a finger accusingly at her chest.

"Who the fuck do you think you are!?" I slurred angrily over the music, several people close by turned to stare at me warily and I saw Eve looking from side to side at the people close by in an apologetic manner. I was hurt once more by this display, deep down I knew what I was doing was wrong. But I was drunk, angry and ashamed. She had left me for another.

"Law, can we take this outside, you're causing a scene." She hissed scathingly at me, I had never before heard such venom in her tone and with it my face contorted into a mask of anger. How dare she talk to me like that, I was the wronged party here.

"Don't talk to me like that you whore! You cheated on me you have no right. No right." I devolved into anguished sobs as the crowd of drunk teenagers that had formed around us began to look to each other, each feeling slightly more awkward than the last. None more so that Eve who at this very moment had, had just about enough of my shit.

"No Lawrence, it's you who doesn't get to talk to me like that! 3 years of your possessive bullshit and then, when I finally get the courage to leave you, you're going to play the victim. You're a damn coward Lawrence." She looked at me from over her perfectly sculpted nose, trying to inflict as many wounds as humanly possible with her gaze. And it was in that moment that something within me snapped and with eyes still stinging with tears I launched a fist straight into the bridge of her perfect, pretty nose.

I'm not sure what prompted the punch, I had always had a temper but until now had never laid hands on another human being. Yet something she said had irked me in a truly spectacular manner. Still, though my anger was not enough to burn away the shame I felt as I watched her delicate form rebound against the off-white walls. To erase the remorse I felt as the cartilage of her nose crumple under my knuckles.

"Oh, shit Eve I'm sorry," I said rushing over to her and brushing the hair from her face. My voice was quivering as I spoke and I could feel the palpable tension in the room. I'm not entirely sure of what I would have done next. Maybe I would have run from the house in a selfish act of shame leaving Eve to fend for herself. Maybe I would have stayed and faced my actions. More likely the former.

The decision, however, was not mine to make as a blunt force impacted the back of my head and I fell to the ground. Retribution for the attack against Eve.

The last thing I remember seeing was the hopeless plight of an outdated ceiling fan as it tried in vain to shift the feted air caused by the sweat of 60 odd young adults. Then blackness claimed my vision and I faded into nothingness.