To Make Up For My Absence Here’s A Treat. The Prologue Of My First Novel!

Dayna Hart had finished her third lap of the nightclub and could not find her friend anywhere. She pulled out her phone and tried to get a phone number up on her screen, but she couldn’t understand why all the digits kept moving. Then the answer came to her when she stumbled forward.
Yep, she thought, I ammm pretty drunk.
Hart propped herself up against a wall to take her black wedge heels off and pull down the little black dress she was wearing before she attempted to do anymore walking. She noticed a mirror across the way and caught a brief glimpse of her long wavy brown hair looking like it had been dragged through a hedge backwards and quickly turned away, refusing to see anymore. Now was not the time for vanity; now was the time for finding her friend.
Dayna looked at the time on her phone as best as she could and determined it was sometime just past midnight. She concluded that this was far too early for her friend to have gone home and so decided the best course of action was to go outside and try to call her to find out where she’d disappeared to.
However, this was a bit more of an effort than Hart had originally anticipated when she came face to face with a seemingly never-ending staircase that lead to the club’s exit, but eventually after much grumbling she made it to the bottom. Hart then caught a waft of a temptingly enticing takeaway and really had to fight the urge to stop for a brief snack and press on outside.
The next hurdle she had to overcome was convincing the bouncers manning the doors that she was still in a fit enough state to go outside and return afterwards.
Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime long quest, she was pushing the double doors open and letting a cool breeze surround her. Hart wandered over to a bench opposite the doors and perched on it. She pulled out her phone again to see how long that whole endeavour had taken her. She sighed exasperated when she saw it had only been three minutes.
Now there was less distraction around her she was able to find her friend’s number and hit dial. Hart waited, but the phone just rang out. She cancelled the call and tried again, but just received the same result. Annoyed, she tried one last time and this time let it ring out till the answer phone prompted her to leave a message.
“Assley… Ashley Summers.” She raged drunkenly down the phone. “Where the bloody hell are you? I’m outside the Union, so jus’ come out and fineee me when you get this. I’ll wait fiffeen minutes and not a second longer, then I’m goin’ home. I’ve gots a lecture first thing in the morning, so hurry up and come see meee. I swear if you’ve just gone back to your room with that… um… that Billy again, you’ll have me to answer to lady! You have fifteen minutes annnnnd GO!” Hart hung up the phone and put it back in her bag.
It was at that moment she noticed a young man had slowed his walk as he went past her and was giving her a judging look. Hart looked the man up and down and sneered at him:
“Don’e you judge me. I am shtill rocking this look.” She made a exaggerated gesture up and down herself, before pointing at him. “Whish is more than I can say for you.”
The man looked down at himself and opened his mouth to retort, but Hart held her hand up in a silencing motion to stop him.
“Do not bother.” She warned. The man walked off shaking his head in annoyance, whilst she slowly leaned back in the bench to wait for Ashley, inwardly congratulating herself on the scolding she’d just given.
She would wait there for fifteen minutes, but Ashley would not come and meet her. Hart would go home, bang on the door of Ashley’s empty room, which was adjacent to hers, hurling abuse and then she would collapse, exhausted and fully clothed, on her bed.
At no point in the night would she hear from her friend; neither would she the following morning, but there could be no blame attributed to Ashley for this because by now, Ashley Summers was already dead.


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