"Nothing wakes hung over teenagers up like bacon"

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Annette P.O.V.

A hazy film of smoke filled the room and the musky stench of marijuana clouded my senses and my judgment. Red plastic cups were scattered across the floor and an abundance of different liquids covered the hardwood. Unrecognizable music shook the entire room and sent vibrations through my body.

It felt like a thick fog had settled in my mind and everything seemed to be spinning on its axis. The walls kept moving and the floor seemed to be slipping away from me. My limbs felt like jelly and I was having a hard time walking through the groups of people that still lingered after the party ended.

I was trying to get to my room to lie down, but it was harder that I thought it would be. I briefly hear my name being called and then a grip on my arm as my knees buckle and I begin to fall to the hardwood.

But, whoever had called my name dragged me up by the shoulder and led me somewhere. I felt the plush material of the couch against my body and a hard arm around my shoulders.

“You seem a bit out of it. What did you take?” It was a male voice, but it was like he was speaking through a fan; his words almost unrecognizable. But the musky scent of wood and cigarettes struck my memory. I knew this person, but I couldn’t seem to connect the dots.

I tried to open my mouth to answer, but all that came out was a strangled mess of words. I didn’t take anything, at least I don’t think I did.

My uncle was going to be gone for the weekend, so I invited a few friends over, but somehow by eight o’clock a few dozen people had squeezed themselves into my shack of a home. Alcohol, weed, and a flurry of other drugs were being tossed around. But, I just stuck to having a few cups of beer and a bowl of weed.

This feeling had never happened to me before.

The person next to me kept talking, but nothing but his low baritone registered in my mind. My head was lolled back on the couch and I tried to turn it to face him, but it was like my body was disconnected to my brain and I couldn’t move.

Then I felt rough freezing hands on my thigh, just where my skirt ended. And it clicked in my head. I knew this guy, it was Brent. I would remember those calloused hands anywhere. I slept with him a few months back and had refused to date him. Why was he here? I didn’t invite him.

“S…St-top” The words fell from my mouth, slurred and jumbled and I felt Brent’s sandpaper fingers move farther up my leg. His warm breath fanned my neck and his wet lips planted kisses on my skin.

My hands moved to shove him away, but my whole body was limp and a scream of protest was stuck in my throat.

Suddenly an angry voice yelled from the entrance of the house and I could faintly hear the rush of footsteps leaving, the sound of teens yelling at each other, and the crash of bottles. The unwanted hand left my thigh and the couch dipped as Brent left my side.

My head throbbed more violently the louder the voice became. Through the tears in my eyes I could make out my uncles shaggy form above. My heart was rapid in my chest and I tried to move –to do something- but, my body was not responding.

A whimper escaped my throat. I needed him to understand that this wasn’t my intention, that I was drugged. But, he looked furious, his face red and his hands flailed wildly at his sides as he continued to yell down at me. My hearing swam in and out and I could only make out a few words.

“You… disgrace… how dare… whore… my house!” He grabbed my shoulders and began to shake me violently, the stench of rum seeping into my nostrils.

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