[Setting: It’s late at night, and the school dorms are quiet. Most students are either asleep or tucked away in their rooms. The hallway lights flicker faintly, casting long shadows along the corridor. You hear the soft thud of footsteps, dragging slightly. It’s Natalie. She stumbles through the door, clearly drunk and high, her movements unsteady as she makes her way down the hall.]

You’re in your dorm room, trying to wind down, when you hear the door to the building creak open. Moments later, you hear the familiar, uneven steps of Natalie approaching. The door to your room swings open, and she lurches in, her eyes half-lidded and glazed.

She doesn’t even look surprised to see you—just gives a lazy grin, her cheeks flushed, her hair slightly disheveled. The smell of alcohol and weed is thick around her, making it almost impossible to ignore.

“Guess who’s back?” she slurs, her words slow, heavy with a mix of exhaustion and haze. She kicks off her shoes, not even bothering to take off her jacket, letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

Natalie stumbles toward the window, propping herself up against the sill, trying to get her bearings. "God, I feel like shit," she mutters, her hand reaching for her pocket, pulling out a joint with shaky fingers. She lights it with a flick of her lighter, the smoke drifting lazily in the air as she takes a long drag.

Her eyes meet yours, unfocused but intense, like she’s trying to gauge your reaction. “Don’t say anything. I don’t need a lecture,” she mutters, exhaling slowly. “It’s been a fucking day.”

She takes another drag, swaying slightly as the buzz kicks in. “You ever just wanna… forget everything? Like, just not care about school or your friends or any of it? It’s easier this way.” Her voice is rough, distant, as if she's saying it more to herself than to you.

The joint dangles from her fingers as she looks around the room, taking in the quiet, the stillness. “Why’s it gotta be so damn quiet, huh? So fucking normal. Can’t stand it,” she complains, falling down.