OBLIVION I

“If you haven't been watching the news - I should be the one telling you. One - there's a serial killer on the loose.” Elizabeth distractedly held her fingers up to count, “Two-partying has never and will never be something I cave into.”

There was a dead, bored look in Holly's eyes as she gave a reply. "Firstly, I know there's a serial killer on the loose and secondly, come on Liz...! It wouldn't kill you to just come out and have fun for at least this one night. I have telling you about this party for over two months now."

"Hmm," Elizabeth hummed unenthusiastically. "And I've been telling you over those two long months I'm not going to that party. I'm trying to do something right now... and you're dead-ass distracting me."

"A serial killer can't even be interested in you," Holly declared, with a sneer crawling up her face as she spoke on. "You're too boring."

Which was true, not even partially, Elizabeth was one of the most basic plain people to work the surface of the world. "And that's extremely great news for me.” Elizabeth perked up and leaned into the table she was rough sketching.

A new design she had pictured in her head for weeks now but hadn't been able to draw down just right. It had just been coming out all wrong, and she wasn't satisfied with every piece of drawing. Therefore, around, her small dining table, crumbled papers littered everywhere around her. Squeezed into balls and tossed around without a care.

Her surrounding was a mess, and maybe it was because her best friend Holly, was constantly distracting her, but it had seemed even harder to draw anything reasonable in the blank paper before her.

Even she had been a mess at that moment. An a-falling-to-pieces Miami dolphins sweatshirt with mustard stain at the front was what she had on. Her hair was tousled, in a rough bun, like a nest over her head. The old jeans she had on were one of the many she got handed down from her grandfather.

Her pencil twirled in her hand, between her index and middle finger and yet she couldn't bring herself to let the sharp pointy lead scribble upon the blank white A4 paper. So she chewed on the end of the pencil, starting to get frustrated, and almost at the point of a breakdown.

"I can see it," she mumbled beneath her breath. "I just can't seem to perfectly have it written. I have a block right now."

She could see it. The perfect design. Something a celebrity like Lady Gaga and the likes could wear to the Met Gala. A design so intricate and yet so amusingly weird and difficult to copy or make a similar sample of it. She could see it but yet, it wasn’t coming off her head. She hated it when she felt like that. The artist's block was something that hindered her work so much, perhaps she needed the time to force her brain to focus and instead unwind on things, and cool off a little more.

"Come on. Come on. Put that thing away for a minute, will you?"

An unladylike guttural groan of dissatisfaction escaped from her best friend. Elizabeth raised her wandering blue eyes to look at her. Holly De Angelo wasn't the kind of person to take no for an answer. She was persistent, wild, and had an unchangeable lousy character which was a huge blend with the color and style of her hair.

Her Farraha Fawcett hairstyle was full and wild over her head. She had swirls of vermilion-red hair and they plummeted over her shoulders. Long layered hair flipped and feathered back off the face with a bang that feathered and rolled off her face as well. It was a unique hairstyle. Because she liked uniqueness. Being special. Different. It was made popular by the TV star of the same name; in the late 70's and early 80's and wasn't as common as it was anymore. Her hair had always made her stand out in a crowd, drawing attention to her like a magnet would metal.

She was beautiful. In a plus-size kind of way. Her bosom was full. Her hips were very wide, her cheeks chubby, her height average. Standing at 5'8, she had an essence of confidence in herself. She always stood tall, knew how to draw people's attention to herself, and maintained that attention with her loud, cheerful character. Which was the reason why she always had people loving and adoring her. She was outspoken, unlike Elizabeth, which was a literal contrast. Shy, introverted, always wanting to be indoors alone, shut out from the rest of the world.

Elizabeth Coleman and Holly De Angelo had known each other all their lives, ever since kindergarten, and the few fun experiences Elizabeth had were because Holly was always trying to pull her out of the shell she had around herself to block out the world.

Standing akimbo and tapping her left foot, clad in black Mary Jane pumps, on the wooden floor of Elizabeth's small - very compact kitchen, Holly watched her friend with squinted eyes. Her cupid's bow lips were pressed together in determination. They were plummy, soft, and suede soft. She had just recently gotten back from work and hadn't even gone home to change. She was still donning the wine thighs hugging pencil skirt and light pink shirt she had worn to the hotel in the morning.

"I have had this party organized and planned out with hard work and sleepless nights-"

"No, I don't think you had a sleepless night," Elizabeth interrupted Holly, tutting and shaking her head side to side with a mocking smirk pushing up the tip of her lips. "You don't joke with your sleep. When you don't get enough of it, you have the temper of an elderly complaining lady. And you're unpleasant."

Holly rolled her eyes and stubbornly continued. "I have been planning this party for eight good weeks because I want my boss' younger brother to have the most perfect eighteenth years old birthday, and you still insist on not coming? Come on, now!"

Elizabeth was resolute. "No."

"Liz, come on now."

"I said no."

"Come on now."

"No, Holly, for fuck's sake!" Elizabeth slammed her pencil down on the table, her patience wearing thin. She closed her eyes, cupping her temples with her palms, and pictured the dress she was desperate to create. Silk, material, perfect stitches – her mind raced with the design. But her boss, Ross, was breathing down her neck, demanding her latest design and her frustration was mounting. She tuned out Holly's persistent pleas and focused on the soothing sounds of the leaky faucet and humming washing machine. Her throat was dry, her head throbbing, and she needed sleep, not a party. She massaged her temples and tried to calm herself, finally opening her eyes to meet Holly's determined gaze.

Holly stood opposite her, hands pressed into the table, her black rose crackle shimmer nails gleaming. "If you don't go to this party, I won't bring you leftover lobsters and wine from the hotel anymore."

Elizabeth's eyes widened in disbelief. "You wouldn't dare," she whispered, matching Holly's fierce stare. "You know I look forward to those every Friday."

Holly shrugged, inspecting her nails nonchalantly. "Oh, I know that."

Elizabeth groaned, her bangs obscuring her eyes as she gazed at her friend. She finally relented, realizing Holly wouldn't give up. "But just this one party, Holly. No more parties for the year."

Holly squealed, wrapping her arms around Elizabeth's shoulders in a tight hug. "And maybe you'll meet a wealthy prince charming who'll fall in love with you before midnight," she added, her shoulders shaking with laughter. "Remember, my boss is hot – you might stand a chance!"