Excerpt:

As soon as I entered the music grew to a level I hadn’t known existed. It was no longer just audible it was physical and it seemed to be attacking me, pummeling my head so that nothing but it existed all around me.
The place was simple enough with a large open space separated by a stage and a bar. The stage had a couple of grungy looking musicians playing at their instruments in a way that made it seem more like abuse than technical prowess. The floor was full of people throwing their heads back and forth in a weird sort of rhythm and a circle of people flinging themselves against one another. Fists, legs, heads were flying in a state of physical anarchy. The stinging smell of sweat pervaded the area. I made my way to the bar trying to avoid the floor and resisting the impulse to cover my ears.
This music was loud. And it hurt.
The bar loomed in front of me like a giant savior. I was happy when I finally reached it. I sat down on one of the bar stools and finally gave in. I had to cover my ears. At least for a little bit. Until the bartender came up to me.
I glanced up for the bartender and found myself startled. I hadn’t realized that so much about the world could surprise you in a single night. The guy behind the bar had a tall, bright green Mohawk. His lip, eyebrow and nose were all pierced. His ear had a huge hole with a black gauge inside of it.
My hands fell slightly. My sweater suddenly felt really out of place. The few kids by the bar were all wearing baggy or torn jeans, T-shirts, jean or leather jackets—stuff you’d find in a punk rock video. Me and my sweatered and Levi’d self clearly was out of place. It was a lot warmer. The cold would be devastating if I went out now.
“You’re new here,” the bartender said, assessing me.
I nodded, feeling suddenly mute.
“Want anything to drink?” he suggested.
Uh—a coke, please.” Did people say please here? Crap, I really was going out of my mind.
He looked over me and shook his head, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. It was bad enough that I was regretting my decision, but to see him silently laughing at me was ridiculous. I wasn’t about to leave. It was warm here, even if it did stink slightly—ok, a lot—and I just got here. He brought the coke. I thanked him.
As I drank my coke I tried to lessen the pressure I kept putting on my ears. There had to be something to this so-called music that made people this crazy, right?
The band onstage finished a song and yelled out, “One more song tonight and we’re through! So motherf*@ers, make this one count, I wanna see you assholes mosh like your life fuckin’ depends on it!” A quick riff on a guitar and then the guy continued, “Here’s to keepin’ it metal!”
Mosh? Metal? Well, I had officially gotten in over my head. They launched into their next song. What I thought was bad before was now officially worse. This was just pure brutality. The crowd began throwing themselves onto eachother with a renewed sense of vigor, happily thrusting their fists into each others body parts. My coke was forgotten as I watched.
The music itself worked its way into me. I had never heard anything like it—let alone knew it existed. It was pure rage and each instrument was amplified to maximum volume and fed off of each other while vying for dominance at the same time.
Why would people do this? I wondered, unable to stop watching the people on the floor. How badly would I get hurt if I joined in?
“Yo, Drew!” a girl with short curly, black hair dyed with bright pink streaks flew to the bar holding her nose. Blood streamed out of it and onto her ripped white t-shirt. “I need some paper towels!”
Drew grinned, his lip ring glinting off the overhead bar light. “Alex, when are you gonna learn not to go into that pit? It’s much to hardcore for girls.”
“Shut up asshole and get me some damn papertowels.”
He did while she stood, her back against the bar, trying to keep from bleeding too much.
“Besides, this is nothing—you shoulda seen the other guys!”
“Here,” he said, poking her in the back with a bunch of paper towels to get her attention.
She spun and grabbed them. as she wiped at her nose and tried to stop the nose bleed, she saw me.
“Why are you staring at me?” her voice was annoyed and her brown eyes seemed flecked with black. She didn’t seem that much older than me, but I knew she didn’t go to my school.
Crap. I could see myself in her eyes, a mousy girl huddled into the corner and found myself trying to find something to say. “I—uh—are you okay?”
She laughed, a throaty rich laugh. “Drew, where’d you pick her up?” he shook his head, drying some glasses off, and she looked at me, her eyebrows raised. “shouldn’t you be at the mall with your girlfriends or something?”
I didn’t respond and she shrugged, then winced at the pressure she’d applied to her nose. She saw my look and said, “Seriously! This is nothing! I’ve been hurt a lot worse.” She grinned, as if the memory amused her, then sobered as she glanced back at me.
“So, really, what are you doing here and who are you?”
“My name’s Rebecca,” I told her, forcing my voice to come out strong. I failed miserably. “I just wanted to…find something different… and check the place out…”
“The place? Do you even know where you’re at?”
Why’d she ask so many questions? I felt suddenly like an ant under a magnifying glass.
She took my pause as an answer and said, “Just so you know, you’re currently in The Underground, the best place in SLC to catch hardcore and metal bands. It’s also a place that’s way out of your boundaries, Rachel.”
“My name’s Rebecca!”
“You realize you could get hurt here?” her statement was less a warning than a fact.
“Hey, Drew-baby, I’m gonna go clean up and take this one home. Looks like she got kinda lost.”
He nodded, and asked, “I’ll see you tomorrow night?”
“Hell no,” she sounded offended. “I’ll be back tonight. You know I’m just getting started.”
“Well hurry up, then. The next band is the shit.”
She grinned and dashed off to the bathroom.
I felt like dying. Never before as a teenager had I been discussed over like a 3-year-old. I picked up my purse and decided to try and make a go for it. Mohawk guy saw me.
“Hey, don’t worry. Alex will take care of you.”
Take care of me how, exactly? I wanted to ask.