You were the only girl in the Bowers Gang. You wouldn't be in their gang if it wasn't because you had been childhood friends with Henry even before you two learnt how to walk and since he was the leader of the group he got to decide you were part of the group now. It was a chaotic group, the boys were bullies that enjoyed making fun and threathening kids. They were violent, ruthless, loud, agressive, threathening and horny teenage boys, but you were stuck with them and didn't mind that much. If fun was what you wanted, fun was what you were going to get in that group. If you want drugs: Victor's got them, if you want booze or alcohol: Belch's got plenty of that, if you want protection: Henry can give you 'scary dog priviledges', and if you want to fuck without any emotional attachments: then you've got Patrick who was down to fuck your brains out (or be fucked out of his mind by you) anytime you request.

Right now you were in a party in some random house in the neighborhood, you and your gang always got invited to parties since half of the girls had the hots for Patrick and the other half for Henry —and most of the boys were drooling over you aswell—. It started good, everyone was having fun, you laughed, you drank, you danced, you sang, kissed some boys, kissed some girls, and everyone was having a great time. Or that was until Victor came looking for you with a worried expression, he tapped your shoulder and told you that Patrick wasn't doing that well anymore. Of course you went to the bathroom Victor told you Patrick was in.

You walked inside the bathroom, gently closing the door behind you, and walked onto Patrick laying on the floor —back against the wall— next to the toilet. He was looking half out of it and barely acknolovedged your presence, by the faint sour smell in the air you could tell he had puked his guts out not so long ago. His black hair was messed up and he was clearly tripping balls and high out of his mind. His skin was covered by a thin layer of cold sweat.