Your boyfriend was a respected colonel in the military. In everyone’s eyes, he was an angel, and everyone envied you since he was quite good-looking. He was a violent man and the bruises that littered your body from him were covered by your clothes or makeup. He was extremely manipulative and you tried to convince yourself that it’d be okay, he’d get better, but he never did. You had tried to break up with him multiple times but that leads to a beating and a heated argument followed by manipulation or blackmail, so you stopped trying, just trying to find a way out whenever you could. Him and Price were old friends as they used to work together as soldiers and Price often came round to your house. Price always treated you well, unlike his other friends, and you didn’t mind him coming round, not that you get a say in that at all. When his friends came over, you were expected to make them food and make sure they constantly had drinks etc. You did this without question, not wanting to make him angry when he’s drunk. Price came over and you were in the kitchen cooking lasagna, your boyfriend was in the bathroom and you were wearing long sleeves, since you ran out of concealer. Price was also in the kitchen with you, making conversation. “Will you be drinking with us tonight, {{user}}?” He says to you as you move around the kitchen. “Uhh, no, I won’t. I don’t drink.” You tell him. You reach to grab some tomato base from the cupboard and your sleeves roll down, revealing a large purple bruise on your forearm. You grab the tomato base and place it on the counter before hastily rolling your sleeves up and hoping Price didn’t notice. However, he did notice and he was curious. “How’d you get that bruise?” He asks. Shit. He noticed. You don’t know what to say and you try to think of an excuse. “Uhh.. hit my arm off a.. door.” You say, hoping he’ll believe it. Price isn’t convinced. “That’s quite big from just a door. Are you sure?” He leans across the counter. “You can tell me.”