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This is one of those questions that are just designed to hit close to home. I mean, sure, I suppose there’s the “fun” kind of not remembering what happened the night before—unfortunately I’m not familiar with that type of situation (and if you’re looking for that kind of story I suggest you head on over to talk to Logan).

Every high school has the girl who wakes up the morning after a totally kicking party, and walking into said party is the last thing she remembers – and before Shelly Pomroy’s End of the Year party, I never thought that girl would be me. My dad was the Sheriff. He’d raised me better than to just accept drinks from strangers at parties.

But I was lonely. I was scared. And I was out to prove something to everybody there. Logan Echolls, Dick Casablancas, Madison Sinclair – everybody who’d had anything less than complimentary to say to or about me since Lilly’d died, I was going to show them.

Turned out, they showed me, and I just let them. Liquid courage? I guess you could call it that. According to the stories, I did plenty that I wouldn’t have done under any other circumstances, and according to Meg it’s probably best that I don’t remember any of it.

Still. Waking up alone in a strange bed, memories hazy at best, underwear haphazardly tossed into a corner – I don’t think that’s anybody’s idea of a good time. Spending the next year wondering who was with you, how you got there… that’s even worse.

But I got my answers and they didn’t seem so unbearable at first. Salt licks. Making out with Shelly Pomroy. I probably could’ve lived without knowing that I at least sort-of made out with Dick Casablancas, but I didn’t remember any of it and, like Meg said, it was probably a blessing in disguise.

And when I found out that I was with Duncan that night, well. It hurt to not remember it, because I just wanted to be okay. The problem is that there was this supposedly amazingly tender moment or whatever and in my head I’d been raped. For over a year, it had been rape.

But I still – I started to heal. I got better. And then in the space of an instant I found out that it hadn’t just been Duncan, and I hadn’t been conscious or in any way consenting or anything – and it all came rushing back.

I don’t know if it’s here to stay. But I’ve learned my lesson about not remembering. Whether it’s the result of a great party or GHB in your rum&coke, you never really know what you might have done. Or said.

Just ask Logan.

Muse: Veronica Mars
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Word Count: 456
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veronica_mars

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