f o u r : revelations

February 3rd, 2017

The air was thick with the smell of beer, body odor, and mistakes. Music roared, girls danced half naked, and drugs were exchanged. All of this occurred at one of America's most classic settings: the frat party.

"CHUG, CHUG, CHUG, CHUG", a tank top clad, and blonde frat boy screamed. Alongside him was his closest friend, who was a bit occupied with a large container of beer over his head.

There was barely any water left in the pool as dozens of people jumped in yelling "cannonball!". It had become half urine, and half spilled drinks after an hour of partying, but who cared? No one... they were all too drunk for that.

The DJ had his eyes closed, and he focused solely on the rhythm and the drink in his cup. Drunk party girls vied for his attention, but he wouldn't budge. He knew his place in the party scene. DJs focus on the music, party girls seek attention and the mere state of inebriation, people who were dragged in by their more popular friends stand on the sides, and frat/party boys were stupid assholes.

Arriving almost two hours late, a group of girls shimmies in through the large white double doors, along with their shy friend, an aspiring scientist, trailing behind. Her breathtakingly beautiful friends had forced her to wear an extremely revealing sleeveless white dress. She was out of her element, sleeves exposed, cleavage peeking out, and she looked the complete opposite of herself: the smartest and most covered person in the room, buried in a book.

"Hey Lacey!", a bright red spaghetti-strapped dress clad blonde called.

The shy girl turned sharply, realizing she was only halfway through the double doors; her friends had waited for her at the entrance. Slowly, she crossed the threshold to experience a night she never forgot.

Before Lacey knew it, her friends had naturally blended into the party scene, while she was stuck in the foyer of the frat house.

"Hey, I'm Chad", she jerked her head, leaving her newly curled hair bouncing.

"U-uh, I'm Lacey", she stuttered.

"You want to do some shots?", he asked with a smile.

"Yeah, sure".

As Lacey went on and on about animal experiments and new studies about the intelligence of frogs, Chad pretended to listen. Meanwhile, the designated bartender of the event poured six shots; three for Chad, and three for his lady friend. The bartender looked up at Chad, waiting for his signal. With a smirk and a wink, Chad successfully signaled to him: go time. Reaching in his back pocket, the bartender retrieved a ziploc bag filled with a white powdered substance. He poured a generous amount into three of the shot glasses, making note that they were the set on his right.

"So, do you want to get those shots now?", Chad inquired.

"Yeah, let's do it!", she boomed, although not genuinely feeling excitement, as she had her reservations about this guy. He had not appeared to be paying attention to a word she said in the last five minutes. His gaze shifted from her cleavage, to some naked girls in the pool, and then to the bar, repeat. But one or two shots wouldn't hurt, then she would bolt out of there.

As the two approached the bar, the bartender nudged the glasses to his right toward Lacey, and the glasses to his left toward Chad, "Enjoy", he said with a smile and wink.

Lacey glanced at Chad, suddenly suspicious. He handed her one of his shots, and he drank another. Once the liquor hit her taste buds, Lacey's brows furrowed and her lips puckered tightly; it had been her first time drinking. She drank one of her own special shots, and those two shots were enough to inebriate her. Out of her element again, she accepted Chad's offer to go upstairs.

"D-Did you know that bullfrogs--"

"Shh, silence", he pats my head while guiding me up the stairs. Wait, I barely know this dude... and who the hell pats anyone else over 8 ON THE HEAD. I would have freaked out on this guy instantly, but I can't move. Glancing around the room, I spot people everywhere: the DJ, girls in the pool, my friends, but none are alerted.

Help! This crazy guy is taking me upstairs! Help!--Wait these are thoughts. No one can hear me.

"Ch-Chad, can we just go down to the party?", I stutter.

"We're just going up for some air, shh", he whispers into my ear. Air? AIR?! Put me DOWN! I panic, but it's all in my head because I still can't move. This is why I fucking hate parties. There's nothing I would want to do more at this moment than sit in bed with a large textbook on anthropology. But here I am, drunk, abandoned by my friends, and on my way upstairs in a house I have never been to before, with a guy I just met. I would literally choose to be anywhere else.

I still can't move, but there's no way that two shots could transport me to this state of black-out-drunkenness... wait, was I roofied?! Oh my fucking God, I was roofied. Shit, shit, shit, shit! Before long, we are heading into a room at the end of the upstairs hallway. It smells strangely of lavender, and it has to be the neatest fraternity bedroom I have ever seen. The carpet is clean, stainless. Pictures and accessories were lined up side by side on the spotless desk vanity. The bed looks as if a feather would bounce off of it, and as Chad plopped me down onto it, the bounciness was confirmed. Without wasting any time, he ripped down my white dress. I spent all day at the mall looking for the perfect one. It's designer, so I usually wouldn't have given it a second glance, but I thought a special night deserves a special dress. I thought I should treat myself after being buried in a textbook for the last week. My treat now has a giant rip down the side, just like my dignity.

Why did I have to talk to him? Why did I accept a drink... Had I learned nothing from 13 Reasons Why? This is my fault. I whimper as my underwear is torn off.

"This is gonna be fun", he sneers, emphasizing each word and deepening his voice with each one. I close my eyes, and expect the worst to come, when I suddenly hear bones cracking.