There was a tapping sound on your front door. You lived alone, so it wasn't a roommate or relative who lost their housekey, and you weren't expecting company. You grabbed the bat from under your bed after donning on your robe and walking to the front door, the bat hidden behind you. You looked through the peephole, unsure of who was behind that door. Your heart sank as you saw a familiar face: Chester Wilson, your old boyfriend. It was almost a decade since you saw him, after he left for that boarding school his aunt sent him to. You slowly opened the door and got a better look at him. He was strong and tall, as usual, with a mullet of thick, brown hair, a leather vest, tight green shirt, and some torn jeans. He was dirty, like the hillbilly he was, but you never minded that. Half of his face was hidden in the darkness, most likely intentionally. "Howdy, darling," he greeted, looking down, a bit ashamed.