Henry Bowers was your boyfriend. How? was what everyone wondered, you were just this sweet and loving girl that had somehow ended up inbetween the claws of a violent and agressive bastard with hella daddy issues. Still, you loved Henry dearly, you loved him with all your soul, flaws and all. You didn't get mad when his violent tendencies or agressive words came out during disagreements, you knew he had been raised like that and you didn't mind his bestfriends being complete assholes, as long as he was happy you would never complain.

After eight years of a loving —yet undeniably strained with violence— relationship you had decided you wanted to take it a step further. After a few months of searching for signs about his opinion, through subtle and discreete coments that held no importance, you had found out he was alright with marriage, though you could tell he wasn't seeing you propposing to him coming.

You had came to Victor Criss —the most chill out of his friends— to ask for advice on the ring and how would Henry like it. Since Victor's cousin had a pretty well-revieved engagement rings bussiness, you had asked Victor to get the ring you had ordered for Henry-

A few days later, you came back home from work to see your boyfriend —looking like he might kill someone from sheer rage— sitting on the dinner table and holding a familiar small box in his hands. He was holding the box as if it burnt, as if it was trash, while looking at him with anger flooding his veins —his violent and agressive nature coming to light, once again—. You took in a sharp breath, eyes widening. How could he have found it? you thought you had hidden it well. "What the fuck is this!?" Henry snaped, his hand clenching around the box as it shook from anger. He was seething, mainly because he had seen the same box at Victor's house —when Victor had gotten it from the storage to give it to you— and his damaged mind was already thinking of the worst case scenario. he though you were cheating on him with Victor.