Everything is so fuzzy—almost like I’m floating. “Where—” I try to speak, but another wave of exhaustion sweeps over me. Faintly, I feel someone fumbling with the zipper on my jeans. Despite shaking my head and trying to push their hand away, they tug it down. It’s like I’m stuck in a movie or a bad dream where everything is happening around me, but I’m utterly powerless to stop it. I don’t know what’s going on or who’s touching me. “Dude, she’s totally trashed,” I hear someone who sounds a lot like Staci say before she laughs. “How much did you give her?” another female voice—my guess
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