A major tonal shift from the first two chapters serves to mirror the alcohol’s progression. A lot of the prior details come into play in this, and the next chapter. Foreshadow’s Chapter one’s malicious and disassociated style.
Start at the beginning: https://bluebeard-art.com/2017/09/13/third-degree-part-1/
Sighing, Casey stood, nearly falling as a head a rush blackened her already-distorted vision. It’s been like four minutes or something stupid, how long does it take to get drinks? Guess I’ll have to go find him. Lethargically, Casey walked up the hot-tub steps and headed towards the towel rack. Better to not track water on those expensive carpets. Reaching the rack, she took one of the course, white, towels and dried herself from the legs up. She wrapped the towel around her waist to help the shorts dry faster, before walking towards the now-open sliding door. What time is it? I swear, there were not these many people when we got here. Okay, made it inside. Where are the drinks, anyway?
Casey tried to squeeze past the coagulated party-goers, but stumbled, accidentally knocking the drink out of some guy’s hand. “Damnit! I just waited five minutes to pour that shit.” She ignored him, pushing through the crowd as an unwarranted anxiety gripped her chest. I don’t feel so great, another drink will help take the edge off. Where are you Matt? I can’t handle these many people. As her eyes started to ache, she blushed in embarrassment. Come on Casey, this is supposed to be an awesome night. First big date, first big party, don’t go and start crying, please. I’m enough of a nerd as it is.
She couldn’t help it though, as the crowds overwhelmed her, so did the alcohol-corrupted tears. I don’t know these people…Spotting an empty part of the wall, she pressed her back against it, breathing deeply in a vain attempt to quiet the burning tears smearing her dramatic eye-liner.
“Yo! Casey, you alright?” asked a voice she recognized but couldn’t place. Frantically, she looked around, wiping her eyes. Casey’s throat fell into her stomach as she spotted the source. Just my luck. Jacob pushed through the crowd before continuing, “Don’t cry! What’s wrong? Where’s Matt? He seemed real self-important about lookin’ after you tonight.”
Voice cracking weakly, Casey answered, “He went to get drinks. He was taking a while so I came to find him. Was a mistake, obviously. I hadn’t realized how many people were here.”
“Uh yeah, that wasn’t the best idea. These parties get real packed. Glad I found you though!” He smiled, obnoxiously. Is it a scientific fact that polo-shirts make you look like a fucking douchebag? “How about you go wait for him near the top of the stairs, I’ll do my best to find him for you and tell him where you are. Here, take my drink, you…you need it more right now I think.” Okay, maybe he isn’t as bad as I thought.
Casey took his drink and smiled, slightly, before replying, “Thanks, Jacob. Sorry for what I said in the car, I guess I wasn’t being fair.”
“Ah no worries ‘bout that! I figured you were just joshing around. Besides I like a little fight in my girls.” Nope. I was right. Just grin and bear it so he finds Matt for you, Casey. Feigning a laugh, Casey thanked him for his help and started towards the crowded steps. She took a sip of her liquid courage before tackling the masses again. She managed through the crowd without pissing anyone off this time around. Alcohol really does fix everything, I guess. Christ, I’m not looking forward to discovering what a hangover feels like, though. She turned right and climbed up the stairs, noting the ‘Do Not Enter’ rope at the top. What’s the worst that could happen? I’ll just sit at the top and wait, that way no one will bother me.
Casey nearly tripped on the penultimate step of her booze-soaked journey. She sat down and took another gulp as her vision started to swim. Is that normal? I didn’t realize alcohol made you so dizzy. Ugh, my stomach doesn’t feel good all the sudden…I don’t want to barf on the carpet. There’s gotta be a bathroom around here. She finished the drink and struggled to her feet, grabbing the wall as her towel fell to the floor. Shit. Oh shit, I can’t see right. What’s happening? I feel tired. Turning the corner, Casey headed for what appeared to be a bathroom. It’s hard to tell though, my vision is swimming. What’s wrong with my legs?! It’s like walking through deep water. About ten feet from the white-tiled restroom, Casey’s legs buckled, and she hit her face against the carpet. She painstakingly managed to push herself onto her knees before she noticed the bright red stain on the white carpet. Slow and steady. It’s just alcohol, you’re young, you’ll be fine.
Crawling now, she worked her way to the toilet, cold tile harassing the frayed nerves of her knees and hands. The nausea passed, but I can barely move. Somethings wrong with me, what was in the drink? Her arms failed her and she crumpled. She tried to call for help, but her throat was as useless as her muscles. Stay…Awake…Plea…