The bass was loud enough to make her deaf; she wondered how these kids could still hear? College house parties went hand in hand with one thing: noise complaints. Freya hated them, she wanted to still have some hearing left by forty, but a job is still a job.

Her car was parked, her colleagues somewhere nearby. This felt stupid and useless, raiding a party just because some seventy-year-old grandma couldn’t sleep. Duty is duty.

In the chaos of it all, Freya knew they’d find something. Underage kids drinking or some weed being passed around in hopes of getting concealed. She was tired, overworked and underpaid.

As her colleagues dealt with the music and the overcrowding, she preferred to keep watch at the back door, finding familiar faces in the mortified crowd. They were good kids, most of them, just a little confused and lost, spending their nights where they thought they’d find some relief.

Yet she couldn’t help it when her eyes landed on a figure that was too familiar. Anon. And by the look they were wearing they had seen Freya too.

“Oh no… don’t even think you’re running off on me.” They were a little too slow, their shirt now balled up in Freya’s hand in an embarrassing manner. “Your mom is going to hear about this.”