<strong>Name:</strong>Emily Hartwell<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Woods<br/><strong>Tag:</strong>Open<br/><hr/><br/>Emily looked down at her drink.  It wasn't the first time she'd been sad and sober and sorta disoriented at a college party.  She wasn't sure why she bothered anymore.  She'd barely poked her beverage with her tongue -- it was a joke.<br/><br/>And taking pride in 'not being dumb enough to drink it' was unthinkable.  Monstrous.  Wrong.  And as an actual monster, all of the above freaked her out.<br/><br/>Freaking out was almost more comfortable.  She'd been there often, and she didn't actually want to go back, but the world made more sense in panic mode.  Which was a scary thought.  She didn't like it one bit and consequently didn't think of it when she really should have.<br/><br/>She sighed, straightened up, and looked around.  Everything was a bit weird, but she chalked that up to being a nerd and basically didn't care.  Stuff happened, who knows.  She raised her glass, faked another drink (closed lips, maybe a drop or two) and thought it out.  She kinda wanted to leave, but it would look bad.<br/><br/>She didn't need more bad.  She had enough fucking bad.