Who's buying your drinks?
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I remember when I got my drink spiked. Well, really, I don’t remember it at all. But the experience frightened me enough to imprint a shot glass shaped mark in my brain. A normal night at the student union with a 9am presentation the next morning meant I played it safe and stuck to just the one vodka and red bull. My next memory is being hunched over my toilet sobbing hysterically and drifting in and out of consciousness. My story could have ended a lot worse, but it seems someone up above had their eye on me. My friends found me, carried me home and although they couldn’t stop the frightening effects of whatever I’d been slipped, they made sure I was safe and ended up in my own bed.
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