On that Friday morning that changed my life forever, I was forcing my way through the absolute throng of drunk preps in a blind panic, looking for a sign that my younger twin sister, Cassie, was somewhere in this crowd.

My “perfect” twin sister, who was not new to the partying scene: although she had never attended one of this enormous size. My popular sister, who had gotten jacked up at said parties plenty of times, but somehow had always managed to get home in time to sober-up for school. My red-haired grey-eyed sister, who's yellow Camero had made the revving/screeching noise right out of Grand Theft Auto that prompted me to wake up, get in my beat-up Honda, and follow her for 2 hours straight at 1 o'clock on that Friday morning. My sister, who used to always let me know where she was going.

I was there at that gathering, under the multi-colored strobe lights, my chest heaving from running and pushing, and my nut-brown hair falling into my pine-needle green eyes as I watched the hundreds of hopping, spinning, and weaving socialites “dance” to some shrieking, thrashing absolutely pitiful excuse for music the DJ was providing. Through my anxiety, I shook my head with disdain. How could these people actually think this set-up was “fun”?

Usually -well actually always- I never follow my sister to these ”parties”.
I know I don't fit in with this crowd. Me and my friends’ idea of a “party” was a game of hide-and-seek and a good movie, and the only thing we ever got buzzed off of was Wal-mart-Brand frosted sugar cookies and Sprite.

So one might ask me why I was even here if I wasn't invited? I asked myself that excellent question as I made my way, slowly but steadily, towards the opposite wall of this grand ballroom, my Converse's squeaking on the polished cream-colored marble. Truthfully, I didn't know the answer. When I was jerked awake by my sister's Camero, I was more than a little annoyed at being woken up, and I would have been more than content to go back to the usual situational stand-by: Wait until she comes home to give her hell for sneaking out....and then help her get to bed.

But this time, I can't explain it. I had this feeling. A feeling of dread: an acute and overpowering sense that something was going to go terribly and horribly wrong,...and that it would be my fault. Somehow or another...

Rational or not, it was that feeling that inspired me to climb the walls of this castle the rave was in. Yeah. Castle. A many-turrented solid stone marvel right of a Disney Princess movie. Don't ask me why a rave was being held there, I didn't know at the time. Anyway, it was that intense “feeling” I had that convinced me to: (a) follow my sister for 2 hours and 120 miles on back country roads to the castle,(b) climb the crumbly stone walls when I realized there was an armed guard at the gate, and (c) slip into the crowd to get pass the Bouncer without getting recognized or asked for an invitation. All this in order to find Cassie, and bring her home before my feeling became reality,... and before disaster would rear its ugly head...