As Colene and George make their way through the sea of partygoers, the frat boys part for them, their eyes ravenous as they reach out to grope her. She feels the roughness of their hands squeeze her ass, cup her breasts, as if she were a doll to be played with, a prize to be won. The disgust coils in her stomach like a serpent, but she doesn't flinch. Instead, she lets the music swallow her whole, the bass pounding in time with her racing heart. Once on the dance floor, she lets go of George's hand, spinning around with a wild abandon, the strobe lights casting eerie shadows over her cum-smeared face. She's lost in the moment, the thrill of being seen overshadowing the self-loathing that threatens to consume her. This is what it's like to be alive, she thinks, as the crowd closes in around them, eager to be a part of the spectacle.