I struggled with Lacey's pants. She didn't know what was going on, and she did not want me to take them off -- she resisted, clamping her legs together and pushing at my shoulders. I paused, closed my eyes, took a deep breath and then tried to make eye contact with her.
"Lacey," I said, in as soothing a voice I could muster. "Your pants are wet. I have dry ones right here for you. Let me help you change."
I lost track of the number of times I took Lacey to the bathroom to change. I'd been awake for about thirty-six hours and was exhausted, my head still buzzing with the drugs I'd ingested the previous evening. Definitely not my idea of a good way to come down. My roommate's sister had attended a rave with us the night before. I'd seen her throughout the party, smiling and dancing, pupils blown.