This is basically a diary of sexual abuse. There isn't much else to say about it because that's really just what it is.
The dance is in full swing, complete with the usual stupidity. I dance with a group of other misfits that I know from tech and drama and I feel the energy that only these nights of insanity can bring. The dance has a halloween theme to it so there is an added element of obscurity as well, added to the teenage ways that we so often see at these sort of events. As I dance I see a cowboy weave through the crowd and join the circle that we've formed (of course, with the odd extrovert jumping into the middle for a few moments of attention), hat casting a shadow over his face. As he moves over so that he is next to me I cast a glance at his face and recognize him as my friend Sion who's a few years ahead of me. I say hello to you but my attention is soon diverted to another friend of mine, Elizabeth, who's impersonating somebody or other in the middle of everything (and of course dressed as the great detective's side kick, watson). After a while I find that the circle has broken up into smaller groups and I am with you alone somehow, though I never wanted to. I think nothing of it even when you're a little too close for my comfort, I simply back away a little. You laugh and ask me to dance, and again, I think nothing of it, after all, you're one of my best guy friends, nothing weird (plus you know I'm not exactly straight and also in a relationship). So I say sure and shrug and for a minute, everything is fine. But then you pull me further away from the group and put your arm around me, saying that we should go into the crowd where it's hottest. I freeze and then the way you're acting makes sense, the smell of vodka becomes apparent to me and the way you're weaving as you walk becomes more pronounced. As if to confirm the reality, you stop as well and tell me that you shouldn't dance with me because you're drunk and would probably do things to me that you would regret. I thank you for your consideration and walk away, back to Elizabeth who gives me a questioning look when she sees my expression and pulls me out of the fray into the hall. I tell her what happened and she tells me it's alright,it isn't my fault and it happens. After a few minutes we rejoin the fray and things continue for the next hour or so as if nothing has happened. Then again you ask me to dance. For some reason I believe that you aren't as drunk as before thoughI know the effects of alcohol don't wear off that fast. I don't think about it until you start to lead me to the center of the floor again, your arm around my shoulders feeling unbreakable. You look at me and ask that question that I've dreaded for years, asking me to 'grind' with you. I break away from you and run out. To my surprise, Liz follows me. She tells me once again that it was an easy mistake to make, it wasn't my fault, but somehow I don't believe her. I chew my lip in silence and stare at the cream colored tile, the gray flecks in it making patterns in my mind like the dancers on the other side of the wall that I lean against. I fell Liz hug be and tell me that it was alright, she had been watching me and had been about to pull me away. She takes my hand in hers and pulls me back into the dance, back to where everything can begin again.