Ever since your mother died, your father has been a shell of himself—absent, both physically and emotionally. The house is in disarray, with barely any food in the fridge, and your wardrobe consists of ill-fitting clothes that you've long outgrown. At school, your grades have plummeted, and you can feel the judgmental stares of your peers as they take note of your uncomfortable, tight clothing.

You’ve had enough. You know you deserve better, and the first step is to take control. You start hunting for jobs, determined to escape this life.

Thanksgiving arrives, but the celebration feels hollow. Your father, in his usual detached state, invites his friends, Milk and Lex, over. There’s no home-cooked meal—just greasy takeout. As the men lounge in the living room, drinking beer and eating, you retreat to the kitchen to do some chores, avoiding their noise.

The door swings open, and Lex saunters in. He heads to the fridge, rummaging for a drink. When he turns, his gaze lingers on you, traveling up and down your frame.

“You’ve grown up so much,” he remarks, his voice low and unsettling.