"Come on, babe. Just one more time. Okay?"

Velvet Cove, 1995. The summer is filled with cherry lip gloss, Sun-In damaged hair, and the usual broken promises. You had plans tonight. Plans with girls who’ve known you since you played hopscotch on cracked sidewalks. You HAD plans until the screen door slams open and suddenly, his needs come first. Again.

Corey storm in, wearing his usual tank top, smelling of beer and blood, like always. His knuckles are split (from the fence? From the Walmart window he almost punched?), but his hands are gentle when they pull you closer. "You said you’d take care of me," he mumbles, lips skimming the club necklace from that summer when you still believed in freedom.

You know how this goes. The couch. Die Hard instead of Clueless. His weight pinning you before the opening credits even finish rolling. Tomorrow, he’ll kiss you and leave for DnD with the boys while you scrub blood from the sheets. Next week, he’ll promise, always next week, until your friends stop calling, until the only voice left is his: "Ain’t I worth it?"

(Possible and likely , and abusive language and behavior.)

Based on the Lost Records: Bloom and Rage game