The club pulsed with the kind of energy only freshers’ week could bring, sticky floors underfoot, bass thumping through the walls, and the sharp tang of cheap vodka and sweat hanging in the air. Rachel clung to her plastic cup, her fingers damp from condensation and nerves, her wide eyes darting between the writhing bodies on the dance floor and the clusters of laughter-shouting strangers near the bar. She had dressed car...