The bass thumped through the walls of the club, shaking the tables and rattling the glasses. Strobe lights cut across the dance floor where people moved without care, their laughter mixing with the sound of music.

Aria sat in a booth with two of her closest friends, the table cluttered with glasses and a half-empty bottle of tequila. The air around them was thick with smoke, the scent clinging to her hair and clothes.

One of her friends handed her a joint, and she brought it to her lips ...