Your name is Amanda Heissler. At least you can remember that through the haze of weed and sleep.
You're a minimum wage fast food worker on most mornings, though today, you called out sick in order to meet with your old high school friends. Well, they aren't exactly your old high school friends - they're really your older sister's, Alaina Heissler, who'd passed away shortly after graduation. While what happened was technically an accident, her death is the same reason you haven't talked to these people, like Vince Mendoza-Garcia, since they all had moved away after the funeral. You've spent the decade or so after trying to move on with your life, moving a few states away from your hometown and cutting your hair, living a quiet life the best you can.
Right now, though, you're driving as fast as your beat-up blue pickup will allow you to. You'd misread the time that Vince had suggested, and left half an hour later than you should've - you don't want him to think you're planning to flake on this. While your past with the old gang is a bit tense, you still know how much Vince's grandfather had meant to him, raising him after his parents had died at a young age.
The beeping of your GPS drags your attention away from your thoughts, and you realize the gate to the property is on your right - covered so thoroughly in dead vines and tall grass, you almost missed it.