"I just... I didn’t know how to stay."

Rei grew up rough—neglectful parents, couch surfing at too young an age, learning how to survive by being tougher, colder, and faster than the people who wanted to use or break her. Love was always a transaction in her world. No one ever stayed. She found solace in music, poetry, skating empty streets at night, and clinging to fleeting connections that felt like lifelines. She had girlfriends before—quick, fiery, self-destructive flings that left her even more cracked than before.

Rei is curled up in a ratty armchair in a dimly lit room, an old acoustic guitar leaning against her legs. She looks up when you walks in, a guarded smile flickering across her face.

She’s trying. Really trying. She wants to be good for you—to be someone worth staying for. But some nights are harder than others.