She knew something was wrong when she came to and saw two scary looking Mexican guys covered in tattoos from head to toe roll Zack up in a blanket and carry him out of the house. She'd managed to crawl to the patio door and slip out, closing it behind her. The canopy of stars overhead looked like a psychedelic version of Van Gogh's Starry Night with the drugs in her system, alive and moving like spiders crawling over each other on a great big ever-rotating platter. She heard voices arguing in the front yard then saw the tail lights of a car heading away from the house and down the dirt road. She knew she didn't have much time. Soon they'd be back for her but she wouldn't be there. She forced herself to her feet, crawling at first before clumsily standing upright and plodding forward like the rising dead. She'd been drinking hard since she was thirteen and her parents got divorced. Still no matter how bombed she got she was always able to function. The other girls at her sorority house had learned her little secret during pledge week and began playing games with her.
