Low Sun

It was hot—heavy, city summer heat. Brick walls and asphalt radiated warmth, their black surfaces absorbing sunlight and releasing it back as suffocating heat. The air was humid, lazy, and sticky. Ava was heading home on a city bus from her language course. Wearing a short white dress, her thighs rubbed against each other. She felt as if she was melting into the ground. The air was a mixture of concrete, sun, sweat, and linden.

At nineteen, Ava was neither fully an adult nor a child, at least in the eyes of society. Her world was a crazy rollercoaster of nothingness—pink vodka cocktails, snorting, swallowing, dancing, dying in the heat of the day, and waking up fully as the sun went down. No future, no plans, no responsibilities. She was like a baby addict, craving more and more: more affection, more emotions, more experiences.

Ava rarely ever said no. Why, you may ask? The short answer: Ava was spoiled. But if you dig deeper, it was a mix of growing pains, unresolved trauma, a lack of self-awareness and boundaries, and depression.

Ava was a walking chaos. She was returning to her parents’ house, where she still lived, feeling imprisoned. The sense of security that her parents offered was as suffocating as the humid weather. Within those boundaries, she rebelled as much as possible, just for the sake of it.

Ava sought pleasure. Drugs made her senses both sharper and softer—ecstasy, coke, crystal, weed, sprinkled with vodka and endless cigarettes. She loved long conversations with strangers, moving from apartment to apartment, changing scenes multiple times during one night. Like wild animals at night, you rarely saw these people in the daylight. And even if you did, you’d pretend you didn’t know each other, as if those deep, ecstatic conversations had never happened. Parties were Ava’s movement meditation; chasing love was her religion.

Ava had always had a romantic approach to love, yet she was absolutely terrified of it. She was craved by many, but the feeling was rarely mutual. And if Ava liked someone? She would never speak to them; the intimidation was too overwhelming. Ava never knew what real love looked like. She had never experienced a healthy relationship. Quick life overview: her parents were driven artists with narcissistic traits, focused on toxic dynamics and making money.

Ava was raised by a nanny—or rather, nannies, because there were six of them in total. Private schools, the top student in class, the perfect golden child.Until she wasn’t. Nobody ever asked Ava what she wanted or liked. And if she ever expressed it, she was punished and dismissed. Her house was a prison, her body was a prison. When Ava started rebelling at eighteen, she became enemy number one in the house. To have any semblance of normality in her life, she needed to conform to expectations. She wanted a purpose. Short-term pleasures were her escape from the daily question: What do I do for myself? Where am I going? Still, she had to maintain the appearance of a normal life—she was studying American studies and taking on various mini office jobs, encouraged by her parents to gain life experience. She attended courses—writing courses, language courses—but had little dedication to them. They weren’t her choices. Ava loved parties the most because they were the only times she felt alive. Ava attended university but lied about passing her classes because she had zero interest in them. It was all a big, fat lie, and she hated herself for it. Love and romance were her sweetest distractions, giving her a sense of purpose and salvation. When Ava was in school, dating wasn’t explicitly forbidden, but it was clear that it was best not to cause any trouble or draw unnecessary attention. At thirteen, Ava attended a teen camp, feeling uncomfortable and out of place as one of the youngest attendees.

One night, a small group decided to sneak out to the beach, and her childhood friend Alex encouraged her to join them, hoping it would help Ava avoid isolating herself from everyone. Alex was a year older and the complete opposite of Ava. She was mature for her age, spending time with adults, and was tall with a curvy figure and clear skin. Alex had already had her first boyfriend and was a social butterfly, surrounded by friends of both genders. Although a bit rebellious, Alex was always treated like an adult by her parents. When Ava first met Alex, at ages ten and eleven, Alex already seemed grown-up. In contrast, Ava was flat-chested, thin, pale, and looked doll-like, with braces on top of it all. She continued to play with her favorite Barbies in secret. Ava yearned to look like a woman, to be like Alex. She wanted to wear red lipstick, smoke cigarettes in secret, and be desired by boys, but how could anyone desire someone who looked like a child?

Desperate to fit in with the cool crowd and escape her feelings of awkwardness, Ava decided to break the rules and join the rebels. They sneaked out to the beach in the middle of the night. As they sat on the sand under the starry sky, the boy Ava had a crush on took her hand for a few minutes. She gasped, her gaze fixed on the dark, endless sea, struggling to hide her joy. When they returned home, the teachers had reported the escapade to their parents. Ava’s father summoned her to his study. She was terrified.

The study was always dark, as if electricity had never been invented there. The room smelled of mahogany and cigarettes. It was impeccably tidy, with only the glow of the computer screen hinting at any work being done. Ava’s father was the enforcer in the household, more of a despotic ruler than a parent. Not only was she afraid of him—so was her mother, nannies, and coworkers. He was violent and unpredictable, though he could also be charming, a skilled showman and storyteller who thrived on manipulation and demanded flattery and admiration. His will was absolute, and everyone had to comply. As a child, Ava had endured severe physical punishment, which had become less frequent as she grew older, but the emotional abuse continued. She never knew whether he would scream, interrogate, lecture, punish, or embarrass her. This time, his response was yet another surprise.

“I’ve heard you snuck out with the bad kids to the beach at night. Is that true? Don’t you dare lie to me,” he said in a chillingly quiet tone. Ava would never lie—she wasn’t stupid. Lies were always discovered, and the punishment was far worse.

“We snuck out from the hotel to the beach at night. But I didn’t do anything bad, Dad, I swear,” Ava quickly confessed, waving the white flag. Full transparency, no resistance. The uproar wasn’t just about a teenage escapade. Ava’s friend Alex had started a relationship with one of the boys. They broke up two months later, and the boy was devastated, posting photos of his bike on social media (at the time, Facebook and MySpace) with a caption reading “All I have left,” and reposting pictures of himself with Alex, but cutting her out. Additionally, someone informed the teacher that the boys had been drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. Parents jumped to their own conclusions upon hearing “alcohol, boys, smoking,” assuming the worst. Sex. Drugs, probably. Teenage pregnancy. Assuming the worst. The innocent midnight beach trip turned into a probable orgy.We were back two hours later. It was the boys who had been smoking and drinking. I didn’t do any of those things—Ava was thirteen had morals. Besides, she was too much of a coward to break the rules. It was hardwired in her brain not to do bad things.

Ava found herself both fascinated by and repulsed by boys. The idea of kissing someone was both alluring and off-putting. She had a real aversion to germs, saliva, and all the unpleasant things that boys did. Ava grew up reading Harry Potter, Twilight, and Pride and Prejudice, and none of the boys she knew were like Mark Darcy. Even if they had been, she would have barely spoken to them out of embarrassment. It was easier for her to daydream about something she thought she could never have. Besides - she was thirteen, she didn’t even grow boops yet.

Ava’s father looked at her as if he hadn’t heard or didn’t believe her. He didn’t beat or scream; he just looked at her with tears in his eyes.

“I want you to know that you are precious. If anyone is to win your heart, it must be someone special. You have so much time for boys. Boys are bad” he said, coming over to hug her. “Promise me you’ll choose someone special and worthy of you when you’re older”. Ava was shocked and uncomfortable, wondering,What on earth is he talking about? She started crying, likely from the stress of the situation. At least she wasn’t punished. But this conversation reinforced her belief that doing anything bad only leads to trouble. She was angry at Alex for dragging her into this mess.

Yet, she still remembers the sweet shyness of her crush touching her fingers through the sand.

Ava hadn’t had a boyfriend until she was eighteen, which was devastating for a girl raised in the 21st century, watching Gossip Girl, Sex and the City, and reading Cosmopolitan. She was reading articles on how to give blowjobs yet hadn’t had her first kiss. Her peers were out partying, drinking, and moving from relationship to relationship. They had their social circles and class systems, while Ava remained a virgin of steel—partially.

What do you consider virginity?

The hymen?

The first time one has intercourse?

Or the first orgasm?

Ava had her first when she was thirteen. She was watching porn. The website was repulsive, yet she wanted to see more. Ava wasn’t touching herself, just watching. A sudden, strange sensation flushed through her body. She knew she was crossing into unknown territory and couldn’t stop. A wave of electricity and pleasure hit her as she sat in her red Ikea chair in her room. She wanted the feeling to go away and last forever at the same time. That’s when she experienced her first intimate moment. A deep sense of shame enveloped her, and she swore to herself she would never do it again.

The vow lasted maybe 24 hours.

Ava craved more. Soon, watching sex, reading about it, and touching herself became daily habits. It was a normal part of growing up, but Ava considered it her dark, embarrassing secret.

She loved sex, she loved orgasms, she loved pleasure.

The day her classmates began making jokes about her body and how perky and sexy it had become marked her entry into the femininity she had longed for. Ava was seventeen. Instantly, she regretted her wish and wanted to take it back. Her sexuality was no longer hers to control. She became an object of attention, with boys all over her, refusing to leave her alone. She was made fun of, and her phone number was passed around school among boys who were infatuated with her.

One guy, in particular, was obsessed. His name was Martin. Ava and Martin were in the same class. From day one, when Ava entered the classroom, Martin would give her a gooey stare. He would try to speak to her, but she kept their conversations surface-level, avoiding any opportunity for him to ask her out.

Why wasn’t she willing to give him a chance? Or any other guy at school?

She just wasn’t attracted to them. That doesn’t mean she was never attracted to any male. In fact, Ava did have a type.

When Ava was five or six she fell in love with her moms best friends son. His name was Jacob. He was much older than Ava, but she didn’t care. Jacob was around ten, so the idea of being loved by a little girl was repulsive to him. Jacob was the prettiest boy Ava had ever seen. He had an olive complexion, dark hair, and matching eyes. His mom was very beautiful; they looked alike. Ava was not discouraged by his rejection. She made her childish advances very clear and told him they would marry one day. Ava’s mom and aunt were delighted by the performance and would tease Ava to say more. Jacob was absolutely terrified of the little girl, so the situation was, in fact, comical.

When Ava was ten she fell in love with a boy from her class in primary school. He looked just like Jacob but had dimples in his cheeks. His name was Mike. He liked Ava too, but being popular, he was also interested in a few other girls in the class. Eventually, Ava was the one he chose. They never dated, but they sat at the same desk together and danced at the school dance.

When Ava was sixteen and started high school, she fell head over heels for Gabriel.

Gabriel was the most beautiful man Ava had ever seen. He was tall with an athletic physique and broad shoulders. He had olive skin, brown, long, messy hair, dark eyes, and a Hollywood smile. He looked like an American golden boy with French roots, dressed in loose Ralph Lauren shirts, riding a vintage bike to school, and carrying his books in a leather tote. At the time, Ava was an awkward teenager, so her flirting skills were poor. She could barely speak in Gabriel’s presence. Her heart raced, and she felt nervous and excited all at once.

Internally, Ava was the happiest person on the planet when Gabriel was around, but externally, her face remained frozen, making Gabriel think she wasn’t interested. Ava lived for the moments she would see Gabriel in the school corridors, especially when he would give her that knee-weakening smile.

One day, Ava dropped her iPod in front of the building, and Gabriel appeared out of nowhere to help her pick it up. It took Ava a few days to regain her composure. She would watch Blair and Chuck in Gossip Girl and fantasized that those would be their moments. It’s kind of insane because their relationship was tacky and abusive, but let’s give Ava the benefit of the doubt given her lack of experience.

This didn’t last long. After a year, Ava transferred to a different school and had to say goodbye to her Gabriel fantasies. Then she met Martin.

Boys were fighting for Ava’s attention, but she wanted none of them. None of these boys made her heart race or her knees go weak. Ava had a type, and it was hot. Gabriel was like Edward Cullen, and all of the other guys were Mike Newtons.Ava focused on studying and being a good girl, but she was aware of the ticking clock on her virginity. It could have been Gabriel, but he was older. How could she tell him she was a virgin if she couldn’t even manage a simple “hi”?

Martin was obsessively devoted to pursuing Ava despite her lack of interest. He had her phone number, messaged her relentlessly on Facebook, and did everything he could to sit next to her in class. He tried to impress her with his knowledge in her major subjects and made gooey eyes in her direction. One day, he even found Ava’s address and decided to drive her to school every day. She felt unable to refuse, as he parked right in front of her house.

Part of her thought, “Maybe I should give him a chance.” He was rich, from a good family, and studied quite well. He wasn’t bad-looking, though Ava didn’t find him attractive. Martin was a dark, mousy blonde with faint facial hair on his cheeks. His nose was aquiline, his eyes sharp. He was quite skinny, often wearing his distressed jeans so low that his underwear was visible, paired with Armani shirts or Burberry sweaters. He liked logo belts, with Louis Vuitton monogram being his favorite. Some girls in her class found him hot, but Ava never did. If one word could describe him, it would be “potato”—dark, grayish, and bulky.

Martin lacked any kind of grace; he was very clumsy but also very clever. You could not embarrass him in any way. As he drove Ava to school, she prayed for the trip to end quickly, where he stared at her so intensely that he nearly crashed the car once. He made a comment about Ava’s lips, tried to kiss her, and she ran away from the car, forcing herself not to vomit.

Once, he came over to Ava’s vacation house for the sake of studying in a group of friends. She shouldn’t have invited him, as it only gave him false hope. Ava was eighteen at the time and finally allowed to go out and drink alcohol. The day Martin showed up, the entire group drank a little too much.Ava was sitting on the kitchen countertop, feeling hazy. She and Martin started kissing, and before she knew it, they went straight to the guest room.

That’s when Ava lost her virginity.

She hated every minute of it.

Afterwards, she went back to her bedroom, took a shower, and couldn’t fall asleep. Her body was flooded with emotions she didn’t understand. She felt exposed, even while wearing her robe. When Martin woke up in the morning, Ava felt anxious and desperately in need of comfort. She thought her life was ruined. That’s it for my ‘special flower.’ I lost my virginity to a guy I didn’t even like. Wasted. She curled up next to Martin, much to his surprise and pleasure, hoping for a hug because she didn’t know what else to do. From that moment on, Martin became her boyfriend. Once the initial shock of losing her innocence wore off, Ava decided to use her misery to her advantage. She couldn’t get rid of Martin, but she could at least “practice” on him. She liked pleasure, and before finding her perfect partner, she knew she’d have to kiss a few frogs. She had zero chemistry with Martin, except when she drank a little. Ava treated him horribly, but he didn’t mind as long as he could claim her as his girlfriend.

When he confessed that he loved her, Ava felt another wave of nausea and knew she had to end the charade. Other than that one time they had sex, nothing ever worked between them because she was as dry as a desert. Ava could lie to herself, but not to her body—nothing about Martin attracted her at all. Biologically, her genes rejected him. Sex was incredibly painful, and she would automatically clench her legs, her body closing up to prevent anything, especially Martin’s penis, from entering. She thought she might close her eyes and pretend he was someone else, but his smell, his touch, and his little habits repelled her. They dated for just a few months, and it ended in a big fight. Ava told him to leave her the fuck alone and stormed out of his apartment. He chased her until the elevator doors closed. As they did, Ava finally felt free and happy. Martin, on the other hand, was deeply hurt. He got back with his ex-girlfriend immediately and spread awful rumors about Ava. They did not end on good terms.

Martin had opened a Pandora’s box within her. Ava was now open to new experiences and fun, but at the same time, she felt miserable.

Disappointed with love and lost at the start of her adult life, she began hanging out with party people. She was now the girl with boobs, smoking cigarettes with red lipstick on, but she wasn’t happy. Ava longed to be thirteen again, playing with dolls and reading Harry Potter books until the early hours of the morning. But once innocence was taken, it could never be regained. She wanted the kind of love she’d read about in books, but all she got were clumsy guys who didn’t listen when she told them how to touch her. These guys bored her to death but seemed like “good choices.“”Come on, give him a chance, he likes you,” she would often hear. But what about what she liked? Ava never asked herself. Or maybe she didn’t have enough experience to answer honestly.

Gabriel’s story wasn’t over, though. She saw him a few times at the public library. One day, she was sitting outside a big, old building in the city center on a bench. It was late spring, everything was green and blooming. She was busy studying, biting into a pastry she’d just bought from a nearby bakery.“Hi,” a voice said above her head. When Ava looked up, she gasped. It was Gabriel.

His golden-brown hair was messy, his smile dazzling. He wore a white linen shirt—or something like that. You get the idea—he looked stunning, as usual. Ava’s mouth was full of pastry, which she quickly swallowed before responding, convinced she was covered in crumbs. She couldn’t let crumbs embarrass her this time, so she gathered some courage to talk to him.Girl, you’ve got this, he’s just a friend. You’re older now, you’re not even a virgin anymore. You’re not that attracted to him, you’ve got this, she told herself.

Liar.

“Oh my god, hi! What are you doing here?!” Ava blurted out, realizing too late that it was a dumb question. He was probably studying, just like she was. The words had popped out of her mouth as if it wasn’t the first sentence she’d ever said to him in three years of knowing each other.

“I’m visiting the art department, studying for exams. You’re graduating this year, right?” Gabriel said, his voice warm and friendly. Why had she ever assumed he was an asshole?

“Yeah, I mean, I’m practically living here in this library,” Ava lied. She was there often, but not that often. They had a brief conversation about everything and nothing. He told her he was heading to college in London. Ava said she hadn’t chosen her university yet. Meanwhile, she kept wondering if she had left crumbs on her face and anxiously touched her lips. The thought of having cherry pastry stuck between her teeth made her cheeks flush.Great, now I look like a beetroot, she thought.

“Later,” Gabriel said, ending the conversation with one of his signature dazzling smiles that felt like gentle sunshine. Ava’s knees went weak.

The brief encounter left her shaking, her mind racing with a million thoughts.

You did it! You actually managed to talk to him. Congrats!

Ava didn’t hold much hope of seeing him again, so she decided to savor the moment and let it go.

Two months later, Ava’s classmate organized a graduation party at her grandparents’ house. It was called a barbecue, but with over 200 guests, a DJ, catering, and a ton of alcohol, it felt more like a full-blown event. Ava’s relationship with Martin was nearing its end, and she just needed to pick the right day to tell him. His touch had become unbearable. She hated the way he talked, walked, and even breathed. But Martin refused to let go. He didn’t care how uninterested she was or how dry and lacking their conversations had become. After his love confession, Ava remained silent while he kept gushing about how much he adored her.

He loved her smell, her beauty, showering her with compliments. To him, she was perfection. But to Ava, he had become the most annoying person on the planet. She felt like a princess rescued from the tower by the wrong prince. Even now, the scent of his clothes mixed with his Chanel Bleu cologne reminded her of those imprisoned days. She didn’t feel any of the love or lust she had read about in her favorite books. As she walked up the stairs to the patio where the party was in full swing, she bumped into a familiar face. Her jaw dropped.

Gabriel

Her entire body went into alarm mode as a wave of warm happiness and excitement flushed through her limbs. Butterflies fluttered wildly.“Hi, Ava,” Gabriel said, passing her on the stairs.

He gave her a quick, polite kiss on the cheek, and it was as if the heavens sang, leaving a tingling mark on her skin. “I’ll catch you later.”

The energy between them had shifted—more familiar, more intimate—and they were the only ones who felt it. The only problem was - Martin. In that moment, Ava felt the heavy weight of the decisions she had made over the past few months. If only she had known. This was the feeling she had been missing. Her disdain for Martin intensified. As the night went on, Ava mingled with her school friends, sipping vodka mixed with Sprite from a large plastic cup.

Meanwhile, Martin smoked joints in his car with some other guys, rolling in and out of his black Audi. The evening sky was still lit, painted in pink and orange hues, even though the sun was setting. Despite it being late June, the weather was rainy and humid, casting a hazy glow over the party.

Ava and Gabriel sat on a stone wall, talking like it was the most natural thing in the world. She didn’t expect it to be this easy. Gabriel was sweet—attentive, even—hanging on every word like it meant something. Nothing like what she thought he’d be. And for the first time in a while, she almost forgot about Martin. About the mess she was stuck in. Hope. That’s what it felt like—weird, buzzing hope—creeping in where the usual dread used to sit. The alcohol humming through her veins didn’t hurt either. It made everything feel lighter. Like maybe the future wasn’t as fucked up as she thought. Their faces were getting closer, closer still, until suddenly—they were kissing.

“Wait” she pulled back, just barely, her forehead still pressed against his.

“I have a boyfriend.” Gabriel’s lips curled into a lazy smile, his breath warm, too close. “Okay, you have a boyfriend,” he said, voice relaxed, almost playful, flirting with the inches of space between their lips. Fuck, I want more, Ava thought.

“I mean, he’s not really my boyfriend,” she said, feeling his smile in response to her confusion. “He doesn’t matter, it’s over. We just can’t be seen.”

Fucking Martin in the fucking car.Why did he have to be there? Why did she agree to be in a relationship with him? Why didn’t she break up with him sooner? Hoping Martin was stoned enough not to have noticed anything, she pointed toward the bushes behind them. The darkness of the early evening provided the cover she needed.

“Let’s go there.”

As they entered the bushes, Ava realized two things: one, she was more drunk than she thought, and two, she wasn’t as resilient to the weed either. The deadly combination of vodka, weed, and desire made her feel light as a feather. She jumped on Gabriel’s neck, wanting to taste everything she had missed over the last three years. She didn’t even know if she enjoyed kissing him for the pleasure or the drunk feeling of victory. Their kisses felt light, elegant, and safe. He smelled good, looked good, and made her feel right. Ava was in seventh heaven.

“My dream came true,” her thoughts accidentally escaped her lips.

Oh. My. God.

“What?” Gabriel pulled back slightly, keeping her in his arms. He definitely heard it. His face—though difficult to see in the dark—seemed amused.

“Nothing,” she responded quickly, an uncontrollable blush creeping up her cheeks and neck. The wave of embarrassment hit hard. The fact that she was stoned and drunk only made it worse.

“You’re cute,” he said, kissing her again, gently pushing her closer to the trees. Sweet, handsome, polite. Fuck, he’s perfect. But shame and guilt began to creep in.

“Listen, how about we see each other tomorrow?” Gabriel whispered in her ear as he kissed her neck. “These bushes are charming, but there are more comfortable places.”Yes, yes, yes, she wanted to scream. But guilt overtook the excitement. Guilt and complete intoxication, slowing her reactions.

“My parents are home,” she mumbled, caught between desire and the vodka.

“Mine aren’t. We can go to my place.”

Gabriel’s place. Gabriel kissing me. Martin sleeping in the car. Vodka Sprite. Graduation. Gabriel and I kissing. You dirty slut.

“Yes, let’s go,” she managed to say, though the world was spinning around her. She needed to get out of there. Gabriel left first, and Ava waited a few minutes so nobody at the party would have any idea. She felt like shit, and she was about to feel even worse. The rain started to pour heavily. People retreated under the shelter to dance and drink. The scent of weed, barbecue, and rain filled the air. Nobody noticed Ava’s disappearance into the bushes with Gabriel. She tried to distract herself by rejoining the party, but her anxiety wouldn’t let go. She needed to check on Martin.

He wasn’t asleep. Instead, there was a growing line to his “weed vehicle.” Ava innocently joined the crowd, taking part in the joint sharing. Wrong decision, Ava. There was something off about Martin. She could feel it.

Fuck, he must’ve seen us.

How could you do that to him?

Bitch, pretend everything is fine.

The crowd slowly dispersed, everyone heading in their own direction. Ava and Martin joined the party together, playing the role of the good girlfriend. She glanced at Gabriel, feeling like the worst person in the world. And as if her guilt wasn’t enough, she suddenly missed the chair she was about to sit on, stumbling and falling to the ground. Martin caught her by the arm.“You shouldn’t drink anymore, Ava,” he said, his tone cold.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, he knows.

Bitch, why do you care? You don’t love him.

Ava wasn’t built for betrayal. Her conscience was eating her alive. They went to sleep in the car that night, thankfully with other people around to fill the silence. Drunken fumes filled the air, the windows fogging up. Ava barely slept, turned by guilt and anxiety. As the sun rose, so did her hangover, and she felt like death.

All she could think about was Advil, water, and whether Martin knew.

Yesterday, she had been suspicious of his behavior, but today, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Martin was disgustingly sweet to her, and she took it without objection. On the way back to the city, they grabbed greasy dumplings at a gas station for breakfast. Knowing that no one, including Martin, had caught onto her betrayal, one weight lifted from her chest. Now, she just had to deal with the hangover.Never again mix vodka with weed.

The next day, she got a message from Gabriel, but she didn’t respond. She needed to end things with Martin once and for all. After breaking up with him, she never saw Gabriel again. Her life was on a completely different trajectory, and she wasn’t the version of Ava he had liked.

Ava became a demon. Or a party animal, as it was said at the time. She got closer to vodka and the people from the graduation barbecue. It was an experience far removed from kissing Gabriel. She would miss those times later in life. A year passed in a blur of parties. Nobody recognized Ava anymore. She had become the girl she always wanted to be—the indie sleaze cool girl. Wearing red lipstick, doing walk-of-shame strolls each morning, and getting wasted on the weekends. On good nights, it was just fun. On bad ones, it ended with three-day drug binges. Her friends were lost, drowning in a mix of clubbing, vodka Red Bulls, and endless amounts of coke. The party never stopped.

Ava was miserable. Despite the fun, her college years were nothing like she expected. Rage boiled inside her. She fought with her parents, lost touch with her high school friends, and abandoned everything she once enjoyed. Her participation in normal life was just an illusion. Romantically, Ava no longer believed in love, Prince Charming, or Edward from Twilight. She kissed strangers at parties, chasing a feeling.

Her relationship with Martin had broken her more than she was willing to admit. Gabriel had left to study abroad, and there was no one left to fantasize about. Ava felt restless, desperate to try everything in search of something—anything.

As another summer began, the suffocating heat of the buildings mirrored the suffocating nothingness inside her.

Where was life taking her?

Where was the next big party?

Where was her Prince Charming?

The nihilistic shift in Ava’s life was reflected in her reading habits. She devoured Bukowski on Mondays, self-improvement books on Tuesdays, and 50 Shades of Grey on Wednesdays. By Thursday, the parties began, and the weekends disappeared into vodka-soaked oblivion.

Online, she found solace in dark, cynical articles about a fucked-up, unhappy society. One blog in particular captured her attention. The author, an unapologetic nihilistic fuckboy, wrote with blunt honesty and vulgarity. Ava loved his way with words, the raw, romantic vulgarity. He felt like a mentor, revealing the secrets of adult life—how to make money, how to fuck, how to live. It filled the emotional void in Ava’s heart, sparking a strange sense of hope.

She wanted someone like that. She wanted someone who would bewilder her mind.

But the boys her age weren’t interesting or available—they were committed to vodka.

Physicality wasn’t enough for Ava, and there weren’t many men as beautiful as Gabriel. She knew how to use her charms, but no one was enough of a challenge.

Ava’s life wasn’t all about boys and wild nights. There were always moments in between—mundane, ordinary, like the one she found herself in now, riding the bus home in the sweltering summer heat. She leaned against the window, feeling the city blur by, wondering if any of it really mattered.

She hated summer. No amount of clothing could keep her cool; her makeup was melting off her face. Her dehydrated, poisoned body from constant partying felt as heavy as bricks. She wore a white dress, her bleached blonde hair loose, skin glistening and smelling of sweat mixed with sweet floral notes. All she wanted was to get home, collapse on the floor, turn on the AC, and disappear.

As she braced herself for another mundane day, her phone vibrated. She glanced at the notification, and her heart skipped a beat. No fucking way.

Where did your Instagram photos disappear to?