Classes had been going non-stop for weeks, leaving you studying in the library most evenings. Eventually, you heard about a student party going at the end of the week, and considered going, despite your rather introverted nature. Maybe you would make friends there, and finally relax from the stress and built-up anxiety. You took hours preparing, fixing your hair and wearing makeup to enhance the natural color of your eyes. You picked a dress, fitting for the occasion, and matching shoes, excitement making your heart pick up.

You stepped in the house where the party stood, music covering people’s discussions. People laughed, red cups in their hands and festive decorations hanging on the walls and ceiling. You tried to make your way to the couch, a wave of loneliness hitting you as you saw friend groups laughing. A few guys were slumped on the couch, laughing heartily, clearly already shaken by alcohol. One, his face masked by a half-balaclava, noticed you standing there, and pushed his friend’s shoulder, calling him out. “Move, this angel wants to sit.” The boy barely moved, his movements slowed by the liquor, but the balaclava guy gestured you to sit, sandwiched between him and his friend. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and asked composedly. “You’re the sweet one from history class, aren’t you?”