it all just sounds like [[zori]]

Penette looked upon the groups of people whose minds were consumed by the beat of the music. Their bodies acted as playthings to the sound—functioning as pairs, entire groups, and single beings—as they performed a show. Like puppets tied to strings, they danced how the DJ desired. One change of rhythm or pace and the entire room would shift with it. There in that revived building, where they no longer belonged to District 6, the teens were his. Whether it was a good or bad, Pen wasn't quite sure. She was far too new to the place to make any sort of judgement. This was not her realm and as such, she had no opinion to voice. You have no idea what it feels like. But oh how she wished she did. A new track began after the death of the last, prompting Penette to finally attempt snagging a string of her own.

As she moved between people, careful not to knock drink cups or part coupled partners, she was far too out of place. It was even obvious to her. A warmth moved gradually to her cheeks with the realization. How could she feel so embarrassed in a crowd of people who didn't know her and didn't seem to even notice a stranger among them? Perhaps because, somewhere in the back of her mind, Penette knew someone had to recognize the girl that had no clue where to begin. Even so, there was some unspoken beauty about it all. They acknowledged the stranger for what she was—an opportunity. Whether the chance to sell a few tablets of morphling, snag a dance partner, or get a drunken one night stand, Penette remained boundless. She was with them, yet without them. Able to drift and take in the entirety of the warehouse party, the brown-haired teen could decide to do whatever she pleased. She was free to act, free to make a mistake, free to make up for it later. Freedom never tasted sweeter.

But there were still sweeter things to be discovered and Penette was intent to find it in that crowd of strangers. It just came in a form she didn't expect. Halting as her blue eyes snagged on the telltale throwback of pills followed by the swig of a drink, the teen felt a familiar panic work its way into her veins. It had to be morphling, didn't it? But, then again, every pill Penette noticed had become morphling long ago. She no longer saw any medication as helpful or innocent, just always morphling. District 6 was known more for that drug than they would ever be for anything else. Penette understood this better than anyone. She understood everything about the little pill that held so much power over people. A drug. A narcotic. A release. Morphling was unlimited. It could be that escape from everything, take away your everything, or become your everything. Whichever way you looked at it, the drug always had the tendency to accept nothing less than everything. The potent substance— something so meager that it could be crushed by young hands and brushed away with the wind—held more power than Penette ever would. Perhaps that was why she loathed it so much, why she found the sudden urge to rip across the dance floor and collide brutally with the kid who had just swallowed the drug. It had the power to change lives, to consume them without even trying, and Pen had no power to stop it. Right, Mom?