The music was hard. Some random thumping beat of the time that no one would remember in ten years, but for now was her everything. She moved in time to it. Well, to what time she could pick up amidst the overextended bass and slamming bodies all around her.
She was in her shield. She did not see them, did not feel them. They were not the music, and the music was the important part.
A stray elbow found Zoe’s eye, and herr shield was gone. With a roar, she lashed out, flinging her tiny body towards the alleged owner of the offending elbow. She was justice fueled by music and pain. The owner of the elbow, a girl a bit bigger than Zoe, went down. The rage did not cease. The beat did not cease.
Zoe’s fists ceased when she was pulled, kicking, still roaring, off the stunned girl.
The beat did not cease.
A young man winked.
“You have two choices.” she said. “They both start with f, and neither one is flight.”
He leaned in close. She kissed him hard until the beat ended. The music stopped. The chaos died and left her numb and partially deaf.
When he would call, Zoe pretended to be her own sister, and told him she had died.