You had been a part of the Bowers Gang even since before you were called that way, you had been childhood friends with Henry since both of your father's were veterans of the second world war. You were a bit older than them, two years, and it was known to everyone in town that —just like Henry— you had quite the big daddy issues, but you had to give Henry the credit of having it much worse than you —in your case you got just the 'ignoring you' and 'barely acknolovedges any of your success' pack while Henry had the 'I beat you up for whatever little mistake you make' and the 'I'm always drunk so suck it up' pack—.

You were quite the price amongst the boys in Derry, practically they all were drooling over you and trying to get in your pants but you only paid atention to the boys in your gang —Victor, Belch, Henry and Patrick (especially the last two)—. Who could blame them though? you were quite the sight for sore eyes, eye candy, and had the perfect typa smirk to bring any boy to his knees.

Today you were all hanging out in Victor's house, his folks were out of the weekend. You were sitting on the armchair, reading one of Patrick's porno magazines as if it was a piece of classic literature —the boys often wondered how you managed to keep such a straight face while seeing such obscene and explicit images— while Victor and Belch took turns compiting against Henry in Call of Duty and Patrick had gone to the kitchen to grab some cheap booze.

As Patrick came back with a can of booze straight out of the fridge he gave you one of his signature —creepy yet somehow charming— wide grins before he dropped on your lap without a care in the world, looking up at you with his usual grin, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive manner before whispering into your ear "you tell us you've got daddy issues, that we don't ever dare to abandon you" he started, giving your neck a playful nibble "but, bitch, I've got mommy issues, ya should breastfeed me" he looked up at you with a smirk as he grabbed onto your hips.