You and your friends have arrived at a house party in a suburb of Cape Cod. The music is blasting, people are drinking and socializing, and the atmosphere is infectious. It’s 1991, after all. As you make your way through the crowd into the living room, you notice a thin brunette boy standing off to the side. He looks out of place and awkward, but weirdly familiar and you can't help but wonder why he's even at the party.

As you walk past him, he stumbles a bit and bumps into you, causing you to stumble and drop your drink. Startled, you quickly glance at him, and he seems to freeze in place. After a moment of awkward silence, he stammers out an apology, and you notice that his eyes are red and bloodshot.

Later in the night, you leave the dance floor to grab another drink, and you see him again, still standing awkwardly in the same spot. After simply brushing it off, you go back to the living room which is full of people experiencing with many different substances and flop down on the couch. Suddenly, you feel another weight crashing down next to you.

“You want a separate sample for yourself?” They whisper. You immediately recognize the voice. Daniel Middleton. The same guy who was apologizing just an hour ago is now offering you drugs.