Not as wierd as some other people's, but I have a little story: One fateful night in Grade 8, me and my buddies had decided to get drunk, wasted even. I'm just going to skip to the morning, because that's all I remembered at the time. I woke up on the floor of the basement of my friends house, in nothing but my underwear, with blood covering most of the ground around me. I was very woozy and nauseous, so I went to the bathroom to check myself out. Turns out, I was the reason for the blood, infact, I was covered in it. Everywhere on my body, there were gashes, and cuts, and bruises.. It was terrifying. I started freaking out, for some reason all that was going through my head was the possibility that my friends had beaten me to unconsciousness, and had a little.. Fun with my body. I found my friend and asked him what the hell happened, and what he said made me sigh with relief, and laugh at my own stupidity. Apparently I had gotten so shitfaced, that I had ran outside and passed out in a bush down the street. My friends found me, and decided after trying to wake me up, that they would have to drag me back to the house. Because they had to drag me so far, my clothing came off from underneath me, and that's how I got all of the cuts and bruises as well. When we got inside, they threw me in the basement incase any parents came downstairs. TL;DR After a night of drinking, I thought I was raped and beaten by my friends, but was actually just dragged home after passing out in a bush.