Ink & Adrenaline

"Brazil, Morocco, London to Ibiza

Straight to LA, New York, Vegas to Africa

Dance the night away, live your life and stay young on the floor

Dance the night away, grab somebody, drink a little more

Dance the night away..."

The heavy bass of the music reverberated through the crowded, strobe-lit club. Red and violet neon lights cut through the hazy air, reflecting sharply off the metallic blue party dress Senna was wearing. The bodycon dress hugged her curves perfectly, and with her flawless makeup and effortless confidence, she looked like an absolute baddie—completely commanding the room without even trying.

But as the music suddenly transitioned into a slowed, hypnotic Houston chop, the chaotic energy around her shifted. For a moment, the world faded into slow motion. She wasn't alone; laughing and dancing right beside her were her two best friends, Sasha and Milo. The three of them were inseparable—the ultimate trio. Milo was shouting something over the music, his carefree laugh cutting through the noise, while Sasha was trying to keep Senna steady. But the alcohol had already taken its toll. The room was spinning, the neon lights were blending into a distant hum, and Senna’s vision was blurring out.

By the time the party ended, Senna was completely drunk. Sasha and Milo practically carried her out. Milo escorted them back to their building, ensuring they got inside safely before heading to his own place next door. Sasha guided a stumbling Senna into the apartment they shared, helped her zip down the blue dress, and left her to sleep off the alcohol.

A few hours later, the quiet of the night was shattered.

Senna gasped, bolting upright in bed, her heart hammering violently against her ribs. She was drenched in a cold sweat, the lingering effects of the alcohol instantly washed away by adrenaline. It was that dream again. The nightmare that had haunted her for as long as she could remember.

In the dream, she was back in the old house. She was tiny, only three and a half years old, standing frozen in the doorway of a dimly lit room. Through the shadows, she watched her father—Alistair Vance, the revered and strict Principal of Harvard-Westlake—his hands wrapped tightly around her mother’s throat. In the nightmare, just like in her buried memories, little Senna couldn’t move. She couldn't scream. She could only stand there, a helpless witness to the suffocating terror.

Breathing heavily, Senna clutched her head. Sleep was completely out of the question now. The haunting image of Principal Vance's cold eyes refused to leave her mind.

To distract her racing mind, Senna reached for her phone on the nightstand, the bright screen illuminating her dark room. She didn't open social media to check party pictures; instead, she logged into her private author portal. Beyond her high-profile baddie persona at the parties, Senna lived a secret double life as a writer. She had recently published her debut book, Daisy & Ren.

As the page loaded, Senna’s eyes widened. The notifications were overflowing. Reviews, star ratings, and messages were pouring in by the hundreds. Daisy & Ren was blowing up. Readers were falling in love with her words, praising the emotional depth of her storytelling.

A slow, genuine smile broke through her residual fear. The heavy knot in her chest untangled, replaced by a rush of pure euphoria. For the first time that night, the ghosts of her past retreated. Feeling accomplished and comforted by the warmth of her success, Senna finally closed her eyes, letting a peaceful sleep wash over her.

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