God I feel so drunk and happy. I'm borderline blackout wasted, but I can't bring myself to care. The alcohol snuck up on me and is holding my common-sense hostage.

Maddie is flailing her arms about as she attempts to grind on an attractive stranger. I snicker uncontrollably at the display. Poor girl was never good at dancing.

Rebecca is next to me, laughing at the sight as well. She throws her head back in laughter then turns to me and drunkenly shouts "HEY, this is fun, but let's go somewhere even MORE fun. I know a crazy little kick back going on at a place about a mile from here. Can you drive us?"

"Sure! Why not…" I say happily though I feel somewhat apprehensive.

After telling Maddie we are leaving, we hop in my silver Honda Civic and peel out. I look at the clock on the dashboard and realize it's already 1:00 am. No wonder I feel so exhausted.

We drive in silence, except for the occasional "I think you take a right up here? Or maybe a left? Let me look at Apple Maps again" from Rebecca.

5 minutes and two wrong turns later, we arrive at our destination- a small, beaten down wooden house. To a passerby it probably just looked like a worn-down gardening shed.

We park the car on the muddy lawn, next to a few other cars that I can only assume must belong to the other party goers. On the short walk from the car to the front door, we pass two couples fervently making out, lipstick smeared over one another's faces.

We let ourselves inside, walking into a small room with white walls and sparse furniture. There are six young women and, if I counted correctly, nine young men. In front of them all is a square coffee table littered with empty liquor bottles, beer bottles, and a few rolled up dollar bills for snorting the white cocaine that sat there in a plastic bag.

The only other time I had seen coke was in high school when Maddie was addicted to it. She had even licked some off of the bathroom floor one time at a party.

I also take note of the meth pipe laying on the couch. I immediately know these are not my top of people, and I regret coming here. But I'm in too deep now. I'll just have to fake my way through the night until I can leave.

To ease my nerves, I take a shot of Smirnoff with Rebecca. Much to my chagrin, two of the guys approached us and started a conversation. Rebecca apparently knows neither of them, which only serves to heighten my anxiety. Not to mention that the largest of the two (Kyle? Kevin?) keeps eyeing my cleavage and midriff as if they are a buffet he is waiting to dig into.

I take another shot to distract myself from the unwanted attention, but this is a huge mistake. I'm wasted now. Not blackout, but close enough that I'm having a difficult time just standing up and forming coherent sentences. I definitely won't be able to drive home.

I check my phone and not only see that it is already 2:15 am, but that I have also two texts and a missed call from my husband. Oh no!

I step outside to escape the loud music and to return my husband's missed call, though he is most likely asleep.

I can't help but think about the situation I'm in. I mean, shit, why am I even here? I should have just stayed with Maddie at the first party. I don't like this. And I feel like I'm going to vomit.

I dismiss the thought as I realize I'm getting distracted by my wasted thoughts and just try to focus on the task at hand.

I press the "call" button next to my husband's contact name and he answers after just one ring.

"Baby! Are you alright? You haven't been answering all night" he says, panic tinging his handsome voice.

"Hey yeah, I'm a-okay. I mean actually I'm not. I mean I am, but I'm not. I mean- "suddenly all the alcohol I've consumed over the course of the night comes gushing out of my mouth and onto the ground. I cough as the awful stench and taste hit me all at once.

"Did you just throw up? Babe are you drunk?"

I silently nod and then realize he can't see me nodding, so I say into the phone "yeah…" as I sheepishly wipe the remnants of vomit from my mouth.

I hear him sigh deeply.

"Where are you? I'll come get you."

I drunkenly jog over to the mailbox to see the address number, stumbling a bit along the way.

"Uh…887 Woodland Lane?" I manage to slur out.

"Thank god that's close to our apartment. Listen, just stay there, okay? I'll be there in a second with Wes to pick you girls up. He'll drive your car home and I'll drive you home in mine. Does Rebecca need- "

I don't here the end of his sentence because a large hand just reached out from behind me and swatted my phone onto the ground.

I turn around to see the big guy that was mentally undressing me earlier, along with his friend. He runs his hand through his hair as he says "Girls these days are always on their phones. You should talk to me instead, baby."

Baby? I visibly cringe, I feel so disgusted.

I feel even more disgusted when he snakes his arm around my waist so tightly that I'm sure one of his fingers will leave bruise on the skin there.

"Fuck off." I say plainly as I manage to rip myself from his anaconda-like grip.

Suddenly one of his large hands are enveloping my wrists as his friend rips my thin crop top off of my body, leaving me in just a bra.

"Hey, slut, that's no way to talk to a guy that's just trying to have some fun with ya. You should take this as a compliment" he says through disgustingly yellow teeth.

"Yeah, baby girl, we just wanna show you a good time" his friend says as he produces a condom from his jeans pocket.

The bigger one suddenly uses his free hand to slap the condom from his friend's fingers.

"Seriously, dude? Condoms are for pussies. They don't feel as good as just hittin' it raw" he spits out with a laugh.

God I might puke again. I've never felt this scared and helpless before. And the worst part is that I'm too drunk to even fight back. All I want to do is lay on the ground. And where the hell is Rebecca? Why isn't she here helping me?

I am abruptly torn from my thoughts as the bigger one releases my wrists to push me to the ground, placing a muscular leg on each side of my body and effectively trapping me there.

He begins to unbutton my jeans as I lay there, too drunk to move.

I hear shouting, then he suddenly no longer looming over me. I sit up, but fall back to the ground as the quick movement gives me a head rush. Then my husband is crouching over me, pulling me into his arms to carry me bridal style. He carries me to his car, and I glance over to see Wes shouting some things and the bigger guy and even punching him.

The last thing I remember before passing out was my husband placing me in the passenger seat.