It's over now.
A cool wind blows through the house from the front door, left carelessly open. Broken glass is scattered across the dark wooden floor, a mother's prized vase smashed to pieces. Small brown stains soak slowly into the carpet, abandoned beer bottles and cups left on every surface.
People are everywhere; passed out, asleep or just lying there, staring blankly at the wall. Lying on the floor, leaning against walls, collapsed on sofas. There are small movements; a girl beginning to stir, a boy texting in the corner, the back door quietly opening as someone slips outside. The rooms are dark though, moonlight filtering through the thick layer of clouds, highlighting a few faces.
No face smiles, no mouth laughs. A few hours ago this house was filled with a heavy bass beat, people jumping in time with the music, dark liquid spilt carelessly from cups held in woozy hands, people sat in corners smoking. Just a distraction. No other way to forget their lives, they must block it out. Just for one night.
The party is over now.
They have to go back.